Last night, my friend Brad and I went to a concert by a true Rock God, Chris Cornell. Our love for this man borders on the uncomfortable. For over 15 years, Chris Cornell has provided the soundtrack for our lives. Through happiness and tears, his most dynamic voice has fed our souls exactly what they needed to get by.

As I hinted, Brad and I are borderline stalkers for this guy. So, being the geeks that we are, we showed up a few minutes before the doors opened. Well, apparently the mellifluous tones of Mr. Cornell sing to the souls of most of Nashville. I say that because there was a line a flippin' mile long from the club of people waiting to get in.

The show was at a club called City Hall. It's found on 12th Ave. S. in the area known as "the Gulch." This is one of many new ever-so-hip-and-trendy sections of Nashville. It has the aforementioned rock club, the obligatory sushi bar, and butt-loads of beautiful condos.

One of the major features of these freakin' gorgeous condos is a lot o' glass. I mean windows everywhere. You could just sit in your cool loft and watch all the sexy people walk by or see the sunset over West Nashville.

As Brad and I waited for the interminable line to move, I pointed out a particularly nice new condo development. The top floor corner lofts were seemingly all glass and the ceilings must've been 12 feet tall. I mentioned to Brad how cool it would be to live up there. What's his response you may ask? "I don't know, man. A tornado could come through and where would you go? Glass would be flyin' everywhere. Heck, it'd probably rip the top off of the building."

So much for my buzz. Way to piss on the ol' Wheaties there, Sparky. I just wanted to have a nice little fantasy and share it with my friend, but, nooooooo. He had to go and inject wrath o' God kind of stuff into it. I pointed it out and his only defense was, "It could happen."

In my olden days as a cool, big city DJ, I used to refer to myself as the last bastion of hope and light in the universe. Just as a joke, a litle funny somethin' to throw out there. Now, I'm startin' to believe it. Most everyone I know has a fatalistic, if not apocolyptic, view of the world.

I can understand it, too. Since time began, old folks have known for an absolute certainty that the next generation would be the one to send the world spiralling into the abyss. It was easier to dismiss them as doddering old fools when the news only came from the local paper or word of mouth. Now, it's the local, the underground, and the really underground paper. It's 500 channels on my cable box. It's all over am, fm, and satellite radio. Don't even start with the internet, that's where Chicken Little came home to roost. There's no safe haven from this storm of crud.

So, yeah, I understand the mindset. Why bother to dream when you know that Freddy Kruger's waitin' to slice you to ribbons? Why not just take what's handed to you and be grateful? A suicide bomber or a hurricane's just gonna blow it all to bits eventually anyway.

It hurts my soul to know how few people cling to dreams. To me, giving up on your dreams is the same as giving up on life. With nothing to aspire to, what's the point of it all? The point is that this world can't survive without dreamers.

We need an example. We need a Leonardo Da Vinci or a Thomas Payne or a Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to show that despite the news reports, dreams can still flourish. The apathy that I'm surrounded by is killing me. Something's gotta give. The world needs to realize that it can still feel the bliss of a dream realized.

As with most moments of divine inspiration, I was struck while using the bathroom. I was just tired of my life being like it is. I live off of a disability check in government subsidized housing and I'm around $5,000.00 in debt. It's not a large number compared to pretty much anyone else. In my situation, it's insurmountable.

If I want to keep my disability compensation, I can only work so much. But, when I work, my rent goes up. So, I'm basically back to square one again. Because I'm so prone to surgery, my only hope was to do something big. So, being me, I came up with something more in the freakin' huge category.

Beginning September 2008, I am going to take a hand-bike from Washington, D.C. to Los Angeles, California. I've basically been training for it for 3 and a half years now with all the roadwork I do in my chair. I'll bike for 2 two hour shifts a day four to five days a week. It looks like it'll take around 4 months to complete the trek.

I know it sounds crazy, but, someone has to do it. To this date, noone has. And who better to pull this off than me? I'm combining my two greatest loves, hittin' the road and hoppin' up on a soapbox. I get to travel the highways of this nation begging people to never give up on their dreams, to always strive for more, and to always evolve.

To do this, I'll be relying upon donations and sponsors. My status as a non-profit corporation is in the works so all donations will be tax deductible. Once the trip is concluded, all money remaining will go to start a foundation that I dreamed up just prior to 9-11. This charity will unite adults and children with the same disabilities. This way, the children will have someone to answer their questions with first hand experience. Also, it will provide role models for the kids to let them know that any path they choose can be conquered.

Since I came up with this idea, my life has changed completely. I finally feel peace. I've known since birth that I was destined for something bigger than this. Now, I realize that everything I've gone through was preparing me, steeling me for this moment. I HAVE to do this. There is no way I could live the rest of my life knowing that I could've made a difference in the world and let it slip through my hands.

So far, a few big names have shown interest in sponsoring me. The people that make the bike, Quickie, are talking to me about donating this $5,000.00 piece of equipment and tricking it out just for my trip. Through a bizarre set of circumstances, I had dinner with the Dir. of P.R., the Number 2 man, and the C.E.O. of Jack Daniels. I told them of my plans and they want to be a part of this. I will have my own web site hooked up to G.P.S. on my bike following me around the country as well as a daily blog for your reading pleasure. Good Lord willin' and the creeks don't rise and that stuff may end up being featured on yahoo.com as well.

Regardless of whether anyone else has a hand in this, I will get this done. I'll sell my van, give up my apartment, and unload my comic book collection to fund this. I've never been more committed to anything in my life. The thing is, I don't want to do this alone.

That's why I'm gonna do something now that you've never heard me do before and that's ask for help. Please, help me in any way you can. Whether it's fund raising ideas, making donations, sponsorships, or just a "Go get 'em, Randy," I need it. We can make a difference if we work together. We can all tell our children we had a hand in changing the world. Let's show that we dare to dream. A better world awaits us if we just believe.

Donations can be made at any First Tennessee Bank under my name, Randy Alexander. If you need to mail it:

HeroesinTraining.org
PO Box 111849
Nashville, TN 37211

Your friendly, nation-wide Randy-Man