Hi do you ever do that thing where you remind yourself that everything is ok and the ppl around you are good enough and most likely not trying to have you put in a hospital no matter what the man in the air conditioner vent said? Ok I mean maybe I am exaggerating a smidge but you get the gist right?

Also. Here is another story that came to mind when I was typing the above story bless. There is a guy ok. Back in the day when we were younger he was BALLIN. Like for real. Like Head Shops at kick ass beach locations and a permanent residence in Vegas. BMWs etc. The women etc. Airplanes etc.

And shit went on forever. UNTIL, AND WAIT UNTIL YOU HEAR THIS: Dude got super strung out on meth and decided he could hear the ppl in the next condo plotting his murder. He heard this via the air conditioning vents btw. So dude calls the cops and reports the caper. The cops, being the cops, show up and search dude's house. And that monumental blunder, ladies and germs, facilitates end of his drug dealing career. Or at least puts things on the shelf for several years. Fortunately tho, while dude is away, his woman and business partner - who is also his cousin - hook up and move in together. So they turn out alright. Or turned out alright. Or whatever.

Awesome, right? Oh. I know.


Hi. I am sitting here typing. I am not sure if anyone is reading. If I stood on the corner talking like I am typing I wonder if ppl would put money in my upturned hat that Tom Waits gave me or would detox or jail be offered in the loving way it always is?

But it's weird nonetheless. This writing thing. It's like being outside of everything and having to re-invent everything for some unknown reason. And it's not like the re-imagining cleans things up all that much. I mean. Sometimes demons come out thru the fingers and do bad things to made up people. Keyboard victims. Silicon or silicone tragedies. But then when it is over you are supposed to feel better from the back patting pardon me I mean from the cathartic power of words. Right? Words. The obsession. The traitors. Those liberating little motherfuckers.

0 for the 369 Crew: