Another Dance Across My Hippocampus

So in less than a week I had a second one of those dreams. It started out somewhere I had never been before. I was with my friend Jason from L.A. We pulled up at this alley and I asked him where we were going. He said it was to some place I used to live. So we get to the end of this alley, which by the way I never did sleep in an alley, only to find this girl from OR. We exchanged our version of pleasantries when a blue '66 Mustang pulled up, and up walked her new boyfriend. At this point the scene changed. The alley turned into a brew pub that was a combination of Flag Brew, and Second Street Brewery in Santa Fe, with the beer list of the McMinamins pubs from OR. So I'm sitting at a table in a corner with this girls new boyfriend tossing them back and having a good time with a kid from grade school, Dan Curtis. Time for another beer so I walk up to the bar where the girl is now working, shake my head and step to the side to order from a different server. As I was examining the beer board in walks Miles Howland, another friend from OR. After that I awoke.

So in that one dream I covered 5 of seven states that I lived in, and 4 out of five decades that I lived thru at least in part. Now I can only imagine that I had these two dreams because I recently deleted the girl from some of my files, but why all these other people, places, and times? What does it all mean? I have my ideas, but thats all I have.

Cheers Bitch

I've Been Called A Lot Of Names

You may find that hard to believe, but its true. From childhood up till now some one is always calling me something. From the names of my youth, bugs, tiger, and the inexplicable sassy pumpkin. To this day I still dont know where my cousins got that from. Then in later years came these variations, beano, bean, and beaner. Then as I got older the names became more sophisticated, such as Pauly and The Wog. But there was one that always turned heads. Whenever I walked into Flag Brew and Falbo was bartending he'd see me amble in say "hey thunder pants."Curiosity would get the best of all as they turned to see my smiling face.

So how does some one merit a nick name such as "Thunder Pants?" It's all due to one of my many inventions/commercial ventures that have never been acted upon. All of you fathers should be happy about the lack of productivity on this one. You see, I had developed underwear with a sewn in amplification panel. Truly a little bit would go a long way. No squeaking anything by. Silent but deadly would be a sonic boom,and a squeaker would be a screaming mimi. Had this gone into production every father would have received one sooner or later. Some day tho, some day. Don't fret ladies, rest assured that Thunder Panties would be soon to follow. Right now tho I feel that its best to stay focused on the kaleidoscope glass. Hours of amusement with no carpal tunnel syndrome.

Yeah, I'm sure that I've been called other names too, but its all in a days work.

DREAMS

The mind is an incredible thing, and ironically it does some of its best work while we're asleep. In my case I often have dreams that may take place in one city with friends from another, walking down a street in yet another, only to find ourselves at some location on another coast. I had one of those last nite. Because of that dream I want to share something with you that is not connected /related to anyone from my past that may have waltzed across my hippocampus. Oddly enough This is the inside wrapper to a chocolate bar. "Once in a while you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right."

Seeing as tho its not to clear in the photo...

The Presence of Love

And in Life's noisiest hour'
There whispers still the ceaseless Love of Thee,
The heart's Self-solace and soliloquy.

You mould my Hopes, you fashion me within;
And to the leading Love-throb in the Heart
Thro' all my being, thro' my pulse's beat:
You lie in all my many Thoughts, like Light,
Like the fair light of Dawn, or summer Eve
Onrippling Stream, or cloud-reflecting Lake.

And looking to the Heaven, that bends above you,
How oft! I bless the Lot that made me love you.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Now thats good chocolate!
Sweet dreams.

I'll Have a Bleue, Blanche, and Rouge Christmas

I know that many of you have spent many a sleepless nite wondering how Free will spend xmas. Well to me it is a day just like any other day. I don't celebrate christmas, but at the same time I don't stop others from doing so. Regardless it brings things to mind, such as... do the people who want to have the pledge of allegiance changed to remove the words "under god" reimburse the companies they work for if they get paid for having christmas off? How come so many people say "I cant wait for it to be over" before it even gets here? Why do those same people talk about getting back to the true meaning of christmas when they don't even know its true origin? Why cant I find the off switch in my head? Why did/does she think only about herself?

But enough of that. So yesterday on my way to work I stopped off at The Grapevine here in Pocatello. Knowing that everything would be closed today I picked up a hand picked six pack of Chimay Premiere, Cinq Cents, and Grand Reserve. I only pulled out one last nite to give to a guy sitting in the lobby. I don't think he liked it, but its the thought that counts. I must make a confession at this point. I am the one responsible for the christmas tree being taken out of the lobby and set outside. Is there one person that can honestly say that it doesn't look better out in the snow and cold than it did in the semi sterile environment of the lobby?

I do get side tracked a lot, but I've met a lot of people who never stray. I guess thats why Oprah is a mega star. Think about this, she is the one who brought us dr phil, now shes backing obama who danced like a frat boy on e with ellen degenerate. Then there are all these other celebrities who back a politician. Why should we trust their opinions? Because every four years they vote their current spouse out of office and pick a new one? The voice of experience? Well I don't vote, and before you start pissin and moanin about my pissin and moanin there are two reasons. I wont get into detail about them now, but one is because in ' 88 I was denied the right to vote, and no I am not a convicted felon.

So hopping onto another topic I am watching a Bela Fleck dvd. Play that funky oboe white boy. Some of you may have read the Bela Fleck Saga on my previous post, but the one thing I didn't mention was something about Victor Wooten. The Sunday of the show in Manchester I took a walk downtown and saw Vctor about 50 feet in front of me. I was going to go up and talk to him when a homeless person hit him up for spare change. I'm sure the guy had no idea who he was. Victor reached into his fanny pack and gave the guy whatever he did. At that point I realized I couldn't approach him and ruin this good moment. Thats a man that ranks up there with Tom Skeritt. I'll tell you why later.

If you're doing christmas enjoy it. If not enjoy it even more. Either way be safe and not necessarily sane.

Kanpai
Free

Oh yeah, as for what I did for christmas, drank beer and ate chocolate. If you think thats a bad combination you're drinking the wrong beer and eating the wrong chocolate!

The Fred Meyer Incident

Last nite saw the last of the xmas parties at the hotel. They were never too big of a deal except for the one last week that was close to leaving the place in ashes. The only bad thing that happened was the fact that none of the groups decided to send a plate or two out front for the employees. Season of giving my Ashtabula. I do recall one christmas party several years ago that was one for the books. Or in this case, one for the blog.

It was a typical December day in Oregon, cold and rainy. Things hadn't been going too smoothly in my personal life so having finished with work and I was pissin' and moanin' to my friend Karen about the lousy little ..... when Marie Hall walked by. "Hey Marie, you headed downtown? Can you give me a ride?" So a few minutes later I find myself down at Stuffs drinking whatever my flavor of the day was. Howie joined in and after a while we were both overcome with the urge for a shot or two of Bourbon. So we ducked across the alley to the Grub Street Grill, ordered ourselves a beer, he got some Jack and I got some Jim. Well the funds started running short so we headed back to Stuffs and raided the cooler. "Hey Howie, I know where we can go for a few cheap drinks." So we walked over to the Red Lion where the Fred Meyer party was going on.

Now by this time I was already feeling a little more than alright. Walking thru the banquet room like the Penguin, swinging my umbrella around and poking the occasional bystander. I went up to one of the bars, ordered a couple of shots and when the bartender turned his back I reached over and grabbed a bottle. I went and sat at a table with Howie, my supervisor and coworkers and we passed the bottle around until an irate bartender came to lay claim to his bottle. So I went to the bar at the other end of the room. If it worked once why not twice. So after yet another bottle circling our table I felt it was time for a stroll. More shenanigans ensued and the powers that be decided it would be best that I leave. Had they just come out and told me I should go I might have, but instead they said that I could stay but my friend would have to go. Apparently they thought I would say "well if he's going so am I." Neither of us did, that is until Howie sensed something was about to happen.

At this point I must say two things. First I am not condoning my actions, and second, the story is a whole lot funnier as told by Howie, acted out in person.

For whatever reason I got into a shoving match with the second in command of our store. Then the number one boss came to break it up. You've heard of bad to worse? Here it comes. Now I'm not a very big guy. 5'6" and at that time 140. The boss, Mike, was built like a shorter version of Mike Ditka. Somehow I managed to get him in a headlock and proceeded to administer as many upper cuts as I could before others jumped in. By this time Howie is out in the parking lot when he sees the doors swing open and four guys, one holding me by each limb, toss me out into the parking lot. As Howie worded it "it was the funniest thing. you landed on your butt, stood up, looked at me, dusted your butt off, turned around, lowered your head and ran right back in." It was at this time that he split and the police showed up.

Well, the next morning I was given some toast and jam along with some orange juice and cut loose. Now heres the real kicker to the story. I called the boss to apologize and he asked me, are you ready for this, when I was going to come back to work. I graciously declined saying that I had some personal demons that I had to exorcise. I may still be wrestling with them, but at least I'm still in the battle. (yes I meant battle and not bottle). And here we have a photo of the actual scene of the crime

THE BELA FLECK SAGA - Part III Belas Eyes Looked At My Smilin' Face

At the end of the last show, Bela told Mike and I that he was going to be playing up in Concord with Mike Marshall and Edgar Meyers. So two weeks later there we were. When Bela walked out on stage Mike and I started yelling. He looked up to see our smiling faces. I'm not sure whether the look on his face was on of amusement or fear.

After the show Bela took the time to speak with us again, and we explained that we were supposed to have been to work at 10:00. We had pulled down one of his concert posters from out side, and at this point we handed it to him and ask him to write and excuse to our boss. being the decent person that he is he obliged. It read something like "Dear Don, please excuse Mike and Paul for being late as they were....." The only other words I recall were assimilating and gyrating. So round about midnite we roll up to work with big grins and feathers flying out of our mouths. For some reason despite our condition we were allowed to work. I can only hope that Don kept that poster. Sad to say I doubt he did. He was a Maine hick.

Haven't seen Bela Fleck since then but I still maintain my status as a fecal head.

Jason and Todd

Holy freakin eddie! To begin with I was wrong. The last time I saw mister Schindler was in '88. He and Jason stopped by where I worked and we went to see Clapton down in Orange county. He was touring with Mark Knopfler , but didn't allow Mark to solo. Sorry kids, Claptons not the man you think he is. His days with John Mayall were his best.

regardless, man flashbacks are. I cant say enough about Jason. A lot of pot and beer. He let me sleep in his car when it was cold or rainy, or I was just too stoned to go to my tree. I know we all change but we still stay the same . I hope to one day meet up with him again.

You name the place Jason

BELA FLECK SAGA -Part II another time another place

Hey man, could you wait while I grab a beer?
Alright!
I am side tracked but I will try to stick to the story
Right on Jason and Todd!

So a year and a half later I find out Bela & the Flecktones are playing at the Palace Theatre in Manssstttter New Hampshire. Well Mike Dudley and I got to the show and get seated in the balcony. The show starts and so do we. We got kicked out of the balcony where our tickets designated. You see, these new england roop scoops got uptight. Imagine that in n.e. So we split and ventured. We found a handicapped seating area off of the side of the stage and at some point Bela said something about people having seen them, and I yell, "Yeah, Brit festival in 95, you and the range and the crowd came on stage." Bela responded "that was a great show."

So thru the rest of the show Bela and the Wooten Bros are freakin on me an Mike as much as we were them. At the end of the show the players hung out and we talked to them. I mentioned to Victor ...............

Stay tuned for the Bela Fleck Saga Part III: Belas eyes l0oked at my smilin face

Guilty Pleasure

Its a nice snowy day and I just poured myself a Chimay red, opened a pack of dark chocholate, and sat down to watch Family Matters. I have two television programs that I am sure will make me laugh, the one just mentioned, and Sponge Bob Square Pants. I challenge anyone to sit down and watch either of these shows without laughing. It cant be done. Steve Urkell is one of the funniest characters in tv history, but even greater than that is the skill of the actor who played the part.

A little know fact is that Jaleel White is just a stage name, and even more amazing is the fact that he actually is white but wears Al Jolson make up for the show. His real name is Jeff Falbo and here is a recent photo of him sans make up.

Crazy things happen when you combine Old Crustacean, a squeeze box, trombone, and two highly skilled musicians. Just ask my old neighbors.

THE BELA FLECK SAGA - Part I

It was a day like any other day, or so it seemed. It was late afternoon and I decided to go down to Stuffs (now Howiee's On Front, 16 N. Front St. Medford OR) for a couple beers. I realized that something strange was in the air when I walked in, grabbed a couple beers from the cooler and went to pay for them. Usually when I went down for a couple beers I would get there around four and leave close to midnite. Howie and Barry, the owners, were in the midst of a discussion about who was going to go, and who was going to stay and watch the shop. Some one had given them some free tickets for something or another and they were actually trying to encourage the other to get some time away from work. They had apparently decided when Barry looked at me and said "Hey Pauly, you wanna go see Bruce Hornsby at Brit?" A free show, why not. So we hopped into a car with Jesse and Jeff and headed out to the hills of Jacksonville.


We got there just as the show had started. I got in and began to snake my way to the front, and when I say front I mean, right there. The stage was only knee high. I know because my knees kept hitting the edge of the stage. I looked up and just a few feet away from me was Bruce and his band. But they were not alone. Three other players were up there with them, Future Man, Victor Wooten, and Bela Fleck. Both The Range and the Flecktones doing the whole show together. Well the dancing ensued and the nite rolled on. I looked to my right and saw this blonde chick. "Hey, get on stage and dance." "I will if you go up first" she replied. I'm not sure if the words were out of her mouth yet, but I was on stage reaching out to pull her up.....and then the security came. "Hey, you cant be up here now." I thought to myself, "now, that means there's going to be a later" (yes I do consider myself to be some what of a genius) and sure enough later rolled around.

I'm not to sure what Bruce Hornsby said, but I heard "now". So up I went. No movement from the sides. Then up came the blonde, followed by about 50-100 other people. I was standing right next to Bruce as he was playing his accordion. It was truly an awesome moment. As the stage started clearing I made my way over to shake Victor Wootens hand. As I was stretching out my arm I accidentally hit a security guard across the chest. I must have caught him off balance because he landed right on his butt. I joined the rest off the stage crowd with the main crowd, dancing until the last note faded into the cool nite air.

The show was over. Time to go home. But where was Barry? No one could find him. I stopped and asked a member of the security crew if they had a lost and found for people. Much to my chagrin he picked up his radio and said "Hey (whatever his name was) I got that guy who knocked you over on stage." I blurted out a quick apology and we both let out a laugh. Not sue where we found Barry, but we all made it home alive and...well?

Stay tuned for part II, ANOTHER TIME ANOTHER PLACE

Its A Little Known Fact

It really is. Take it from the little known fact man. In fact, this fact is so little known that I'm willing to bet a case of Old Crustacean that 99.9% of the people who read this will be hearing about it for the first time.

In most states, I believe all but Colorado and Oregon, when you turn on to a freeway on ramp you see a sign that says no pedestrians, horses, bicycles, etc...beyond this point. So as a hitch hiker if you don't wanted to be hassled by the man you tend to not go much further. Everybody sees the front of that sign, but few view the back. Mostly its basic stuff like, Tampa Red started 12-17 Pocatello ID headed to El Paso, this ramp sucks, or some interesting limerick. It seems as tho every time I was hitching back to L.A. from Ventura I would always get dropped of at the 101 southbound ramp at highway 232 in Oxnard. For some reason despite the heavy volume of traffic it would take about half an hour to get a ride. Now on the back of this sign was graffiti of names, places, dates, and plays on the towns name. Oxsnot, oxfart, oxshit, and so on. But in the midst of all of that was one of the most profound things written by a hitch hiker for a hitch hiker, especially when it came to that ramp. It was very simply stated "did you ever have the feeling that you're invisible". "Far out man". There is a lot of truth in that, but a lot of irony also. Standing on the side of the rode we can see you looking at us out of the corner of your eyes. Curious enough to look but not wanting to make eye contact. Hate to have some one put the whammie on you. Worse than that are the people who tell you there only going a short distance. Even the most beautiful scenery gets old when you're just standing there. Plus, a bunch of short rides is as good as one long on.

So remember people, we're just trying to get from a to b. And whens the last time you saw your brother? How do you know thats not him on the side of the rode?

FreeParis, a joint venture

When Paris Hilton got out of jail she said she was going to head in a more philanthropic direction. So far I haven't seen her back that up. I do have a suggestion for her. Seeing as tho I am about to file for tax exempt status as a tax deductible charity organization, she could back my hotel business venture. My hotel is something that the industry and Beverly Hills has been lacking. I don't have a name for it yet, so any reasonable (after all I am the voice of reason) suggestions would be welcomed.

It is a real simple premise. The hotel has 13 floors. Each floor is the 13th floor, designated by the letters a-m. Each floor with the exception of M has 13 rooms. Floor M has 3 rooms, 10050, 3301, and 764. (google them). The regular suites will consist of a living, dining, and kitchen area. The bedroom is to be hidden behind a rotating bookcase that spins when the guest pulls the correct book from the shelf. I'm sure plenty of people will call down to the desk saying that there is no bedroom, or they cant find it. It is then the duty of the front desk staff to sarcastically say "Would you like us to send our bellman up to help you find it?" and then just hang up. When and if they do find the bedroom they will notice a cracked mirror on the ceiling over the bed . For safeties sake it will only be a decal on the mirror. The kitchen will be stocked with a full compliment of condiments and spices, only the salt shaker will be empty. Any guest calling down saying that their salt shaker is empty will hear "I know" and a click. As for the penthouse suites, they will be layed out in accord with the original addresses floor plans. Nothing will be made of wood. All doors, molding, furniture etc. will be made of composite materials so as to have nothing for people to knock on. A service charge will be added on to the tab of any guest that is heard to say bless you when some one sneezes. I may also have black cats roaming the property. After all Hollywood is crawling with rodents.

Before I tell you about the lounge I'd like for you to take a guess at what the name and theme of it might be. I have the feeling that some of you are thinking that I would call it The Ranch. Nice guess but far off. I would actually call it the Voodoo Lounge. It would not have a Caribbean or African theme to it, but instead would pay homage to the Rolling Stones. Dinner plates would be designed as lps, side plates as 45s, and daily specials would be served on picture discs. The bar stools would be drum stools, and the brass rail at the bar would be lined with bass drum pedals that would hit a foam rubber strip built into the base of the bar. The walls covered with Stones memorabilia, and live blues every nite. Stones dvds playing during the day. (I highly recommend "Ladies & Gentlemen the Rolling Stones" from their '72 tour. If you cant find it let me know and I'll see about burning you a copy)

If any of you are planning a trip to So. Cal. in a couple years you can find the hotel just off of Sunset at 1313 Mockingbird Lane. If you have problems trying to find the bedroom just sit down and read Helter Skelter and it will come to you.

FRESH SNOW & SPARE CHANGE - Muddy, Mike, and the Magical Mechanical Horse

I stepped outside for whatever reason I might have stepped outside for, to find scenic Manchester NH covered with a fresh blanket of snow. I noticed something peculiar on the walkway. Little holes about the size of a quarter dotting the snow. One here, a couple there. Could it have been? No, not in Manchester. "Well something strange happened here last night". So I ran thru the previous evenings events.

Mike stopped by and we had a couple beers. Then we headed to the Palace Theater to see the Muddy Waters All-Stars show. It was a complete gas. Toni Lynn Washington opened up and it was instant love for Mike. Even she felt it. The Muddy players came on and as the energy continued to climb, Mike and I climbed the walls. The show ended and the two of us weren't finished. If there is such a thing as too much fun Mike and I were having it, and apparently its against the law in NH. For some reason some one called the cops on us. We were headed for the door when some one pointed and said "there they are". No need to turn around to see who "they" were. Knowing that cooler heads prevail in situations like this, I spoke up. "Hey man, we're almost out. Just let us go. No harm no foul". Much to my surprise they let us go. So back to my place for a couple more beers. "Hey Mike I 've got an idea". So we hopped in his car and headed up to where we worked.

At the time we were working over nite doing a store remodel, and as many stores do this one had a coin operated horse ride out front. Each nite before we would go in to work I would hop on the horse and drop my quarter in. This nite however I didn't want to ride the horse, I wanted to take it home. Somehow we managed to get enough of this animal in the trunk of his Mazda so that it could travel the mile or so without falling out. So back at my apartment we are carrying this beast up the few steps to my porch, laughing uncontrollably. The outside lites flick on and the door opens and there stands my landlord. "Whats going on?" Mike quite alertly replied, "I work for this amusement company and we had been storing this at my house. I needed to get it out but I could only do it while my daughters are sleeping or else they would try to stop me" or however he worded it. So my landlord held open the doors as we carried it into my apt.

Having considered all of this I realized what those holes were. Knowing that I would be doing the laundry at some point that year I went around and gathered up all of the quarters that had fallen into the snow, freed from the deep dark recesses of this painted pony by all the jostling. A week or so later I called Mike and told him I had to get rid of it. You see it had these fiery eyes that would stare at me with a look of condemnation. Oh the guilt!

FRESH SNOW & SPARE CHANGE

Theme Song- Every Show Needs One

I cant say that I'm much of a Beatles fan, but for reasons that should be obvious I am familiar with the White album. I wonder how many copies of that album were purchased due to Chuck. Today it just came to me to have the songs Martha My Dear and Helter Skelter inter spliced and used for the opening of The Truly Odd Couple. There would be a clip of Martha knitting, then one of me doing whatever it is I do, then Martha, then me...while the song plays "Martha my dear Look out Martha my dear Helter Skelter Martha my dear Its coming down fast" The closing clip is Martha raising her hands from her sewing, looking at them and saying 'I've got blisters on my fingers". Then bam, a beer glass hits the camera lens.

DOES ANYONE OUT THERE KNOW MARTHA?
Tell her I need to talk to her.

Nurse Grab the Pads This Man's Insane

Well you see, I have this problem sleeping. Take last nite for instance. I was sitting back watching TV and occasionally nodding off. Deductive reasoning tells you its time to go to bed. So being a man of reason, off went the TV and the lights. Here's where the problem starts. As soon as I close my eyes the voices in my head flip on the lights. It gets so lit up in there that if you sit next to me you can read a book by the light that pours out of my ears. That alone is enough to see a shrink over. I remember my old friend Sophie always telling me I think too much. I used to tell her theres no such thing. Now I know that theres no such thing as no such thing. Here's where it takes a turn for the worse. Last nite I was laying there thinking about, you're really not going to believe this, Martha Stewart.

Now I can't say that I've ever seen Marthas show, I lean a little more towards the Everyday Italian. I don't have any new recipes but Giada does keep my sauces simmering. Plus she reminds me of some one I used to know. Maybe its the mystique of her felonious past that intrigues me, but I think we'd make a great couple, for a reality show that is. It would be called The Really Odd Couple. The two of us live in the same house, she tries to domesticate the Free, and I try to free the wild Martha. One day I go to her quilting club, the next we go drinking. We spend another day carving sea shells out of a bar of Dial, or making doilies out of toilet paper, the next we go visit Charlie Manson. Then at the end of the series, right when she has me trained to put my beer glasses in the dishwasher instead of smashing them on the floor, we take a road trip, Free style. We pick a brew pub at least 1000 miles away and hitch there. No five star hotels, room service, or even mints on the pillows.

After all is said and done, whoever has made the biggest influence on the other is rewarded. If I've made an impact on her I get to roll in the pasta sauce with Giada. If Martha cleans up my act I can no longer send her TV show ideas. Tho during the course of the show I will pitch my idea for a new cable channel, FreeNG TV. All Giada, all day, all nite.

Bare Trees

To many winter is a bit of a downer, yet it does offer a lot of pick me ups. A snow storm, or even flurries for that matter, makes for good beer drinking weather. One thing that is often overlooked is the bare trees. I found they joy they can offer while living out in New Hampshire. I was working for/with Ralph (RJ) Hedglin, the man behind Masterpiece Tile. Maybe it is better said, the man who is Masterpiece Tile. He was one of the best, if not the best, tile installers in New England. Not only was his work meticulous, but it was also done very expediently. I'm not really sure why he asked me to work with him, I think it was more for entertainment purposes rather than practicality. (I actually had a place in OR say that they were hiring me just for entertainment purposes. )

We worked in N.H. and Massachusetts, which during the winter can be pretty dismal. He would pick me up or I would meet him at his house and we'd head out to the job site...after breakfast.
So one morning we're rolling down the highway on a cold but sunny morning. The side of the road was lined with bare trees with the rising sun shining thru them. As we drove along I looked in the direction of the trees and closed my eyes. At first there were a few chuckles. Then there was laughter followed by hoots and hollers as my head filled with strobes and expanded to the size of his car. Cant really recall what his reaction was but I'm sure it was a kodak moment.

The next time you find yourself going down a bare tree lined road during the sunrise or sunset, look at the trees and close your eyes. You wont regret it... unless you're driving.

Playing Opossum

In a forgotten time, in a land far far away, there was a circle of friends, Albert, Barry, Dale, and The Wog. Now Barry, Albert, and Dale had jobs. The Wog did not, but he had a car. So in the a.m. The Wog would drop off Albert and Dale at work and then go spend the day at the beach. At about 3:00 he would head back to the valley and hit the grocery stores in the Sherman Oaks/Encino/Studio City area and pick up some steaks or sea food for dinner. You may be wondering how some one who didn't work could afford steak and sea food. As The Wog would say "nobody thinks that a man in a suit has four halibut fillets stuck in the back of his pants ", and apparently he was right. Every one is always suspicious of the guy in the tattered jeans with the backpack. At the end of the day The Wog would pick up Albert and Dale and they would head to Barry's for dinner and a daily dose of narcotics.

Eating out on the patio various food scraps would find their way into the garden.One night Barry was awoken by some noise, and when he looked down the hallway he saw the two green eyes close to floor level looking back at him. It seems as tho a opossum that was accustomed to finding food scraps in the garden made it into his house. So we, or I guess I should say they, set up a live trap and wound up catching three opossum. As people under the influence often think, they wondered how these animals would act under the spell of heroin and other pharmaceuticals. Now before you go getting all peta, take a bite of your tofu burger and read on. So over the course of a few days these "pets" were given demerol, xanax, perkaset, and the occasional blast of heroin. Now they were taken care of. They also had steak and potato's for dinner. But these guys were just as mellow and happy as can be. They would cling to the side of the cage with these odd little smiles on their faces.

The weekend rolled around and it was time to set them free. So they grabbed the cage and some dope and were bound for Placerita canyon, just north of L.A. They hiked to a good location up the river bed and set the three little opossum on their way. Of course at that time the conversation went on to how these opossum would relate with the others. Would the others notice a difference? Did they talk slow, and use strange words? Would their three tell the others of their far out experience? Do animals from the south and new england states talk with funny accents?

If only all these freakin animal whisperers were around back then. Would they realize that the opossum was calling them square daddio?

I'LL HAVE THE MANSON BURGER WITH A SIDE OF SHARON TATER TOTS

Have you ever seen some one, maybe a few times, and thought "who does this person look like"?
Well it happened to me this past summer. I had been going to the Portneuf Valley Brewery for a month or so, and it finally hit me. "Hey Megan, has anyone ever told you that you look like Sharon Tate?" ( You should see her with her hair down, she's a dead ringer.) Its actually quite a compliment, but when its coming from a guy wearing a Charlie Manson t-shirt I can see how it might be a little creepy. It weirder her out even more when she learned that Sharon was killed when she was 26. You guessed it, Megan had recently turned 26.

She could use her looks to make some extra money. Get your mind out of the gutter. Every August 8th El Coyote Cafe at 7312 Beverly Blvd in Hollywood is packed with people commemorating Sharon Tates personal last supper. 5, 10 dollars a pop to have your picture taken in front of the cafe with Sharon Tate! I don't think they have the Manson burger on the menu there, but if you're in Flagstaff hit the brewery. Some one there may remember it. Its a half pound burger with mozzarella , roasted garlic cloves, and plenty of marinara sauce.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not making light of these brutal murders. The whole Manson scene is just very intriguing. Was he responsible for the murders? Indirectly yes. It is strange though that his story is the only one that hasn't changed over the years. Susan Atkins? You cant believe a word that comes out of her mouth. The stories of most of the others have changed to mitigate their involvement. Bobby Beausoleil is the only one that has taken full responsibility for his actions. The truth may never be known. Was Charlie a scapegoat? I know he's not an innocent man, but is he guilty of what he was convicted of? Either way it is a fascinating story.

There are many good books, and bad ones, on the subject. Personally I suggest "The Garbage People"," The Family"," Witness to Evil", and of course "Helter Skelter". The two I suggest you skip are "Manson in His own words" ( even Chuck says its 95% roop scoop poop) and "Trial by Your Peers". "The Manson File" by Nikolas Schreck has good Manson info, but not much on the Family and actual crimes. Some good websites are, mansonfamilytoday.info, mansondirect.com, and beausoleil.net.

PS If you see Megan don't call her Sharon. Talk about a case of the willies.

It was like a cartoon

It actually has been a while since I've gone out of my way to piss somebody off. In fact, I really didn't have to go out of my way. It was just another afternoon at Flag brew when in walked the mouth. Every time this guy came in you would hear him talking no matter where you were seated at the bar. He would always go on about how every one thought they were so tough, that is until he pulled out his Smith & Wesson. Well on this fine Friday afternoon it was the same old song and dance. Now tis guy may only be an inch or two taller than me, but he has an easy 75-100 pounds on me. In the midst of his daily diatribe I had the over whelming urge to butt in. I looked down the bar and said "people should call you Flo, because you're fat, loud, and obnoxious". It really was like a cartoon, the face went red, smoke was shooting out of the ears, and if you listened real close you could hear the whistles going off in his head. He said to the bartender "I should take him outside and kick his ass". Hey, if you want me to smile for the camera just ask me to say cheese. You don't have to try saying funny things.

I finished my beer and went out and waited for my cab. I guess he forgot his Smith & Wesson that day.

Who would have thought

You know, a lot of people out there think that I am a callous bastard. Don't care about others feelings, or like to piss people off just for kicks. You may be 99% right. My closest friends however, know that I am actually a sensitive guy that has no problem shedding a tear in public, or holding on to momentos that to others would seem easily discardable. In my many moves I have forsaken many things, some worth a lot of money. Still there are some things that are priceless, irreplaceable. The drawing above is one.

It was drawn by Julia Starr back in 2000. She must have been three years old, give or take a few months. I just hope that as she has grown up she has been able to compensate for her fathers mental, well how do I put this politely, her fathers. I guess I cant. OHHHHHHHHHHH it was bad. How was I to keep this secret from his family. I couldn't, so I moved to New Mexico. In all actuality, John and his wife Pam raised six great kids. I am assuming. After all, its been a while. John was the inspiration for my business name. I'm not sure what the conversation was , but he looked at me and said "you're not one shy of a six pack, you're fiveshy". I doubt he even remembers it (glue sniffer) but it has obviosuly stuck with me and become more apparent. It was great hanging out at the house and having the kids want to bring the next Bigfoot. The funniest time was when Hayden knocked his younger bothers knees together. My siblings will remember this. Dad slamming our knees together. Seems inoquous , but ask Hayden and Langston.

I guess I have reached a pinnacle in no pointness. I've always been told find what you're good at and stick with it.

NO SENSE MAKES SENSE, irony in a bottle/body

I was giving one of my regulars a ride last nite, and six or seven weeks after the fact he asks me how my trip to OR was, and if I had gotten to see that girl I mentioned. "Which one?" I asked. He said "I didn't know there was more than one". I replied "yeah, but they're all in the same body". Now I wont get into the details of what happened, but I told him that Friday nite was the best time a person could ask for, and 48 hours later was the worst.

Now the girl I saw was the one refered to earlier as the cats pajamas. I still don't know where I got that saying, but to use another one, that's neither here nor there. (side thought. in Japanese here is soko, and there is asoko. the reason I mention that is that here is in there, and soko is in asoko.) She is also known as Scarlet, taken from the Dead song Scarlet Begonias, Alice, from the Little Feat song, Willin', and a few other choice names. Now, to say shes pretty would be a bit of an understatement, and also has a great body. She is smart(?), talented, fun, creative, and just a pleasure to be with. She's also off her rocker. I'm not saying that I'm a paradigm of mental wellness, but man! She reminds me of David Brombergs version of "Bullfrog Blues" when hes talking about dating a girl with different colored eyes. One is red and the other green, when she winks shes saying stop go stop go. But you know what, for some reason you've just got to love her. I just cant seem to drink her off my mind. And God knows I've tried.

I could go on for days about Hazel, but I'll spare you the agony.

Oh yeah, If You See Her Say Hello

SHATTERED SHATTERED SHADOOBIE

Winter is a great time of year for beer enthusiast. All the new winter seasonals, and upcoming barley wines offers a wide array of taste, aromas, and colors. The only problem is that the local store doesn't carry them all. You can however find many of them on liquid solutions.biz. They not only have over 700 beers, but they also sell mead, sake, wine, coffee and sodas.

Last spring I placed an order for what seemed to be a life time supply of barley wine. It only lasted a month. So one night Scott and I left Flag Brew and went to my place for a night cap or two. Upon going to the dishwasher for fresh glasses I saw the two glass stiens we had been drinking out of a month earlier. These WERE the big one litre Octoberfest Paulaner style. At that time we had them full off Old Crustacean and were slamming them together, harder and harder, seeing how much abuse they could handle. On seeing these I said, "Hey Scott, remember these?). I tossed him one and we hit them together, smash. Well, from that point on every bottle emptied, shattered. Every used glass, shattered. The following a.m. it took four bags to clean up the glass. It was well worth it. Plus, I didn't have to pack all the glasses when I moved.

If you are thinking at this point "I should order some barley wine and ship it to Free". All I have to say is, feel free.

Why John Wayne drank cheap bourbon

I received a package in the mail today and one of the items inside was Mick Taylors first solo album. I highly recommend this, and any albums that Mick plays on. Look at the company he has kept, John Mayall, The Rolling Stones, and Bob Dylan to name a few. I remember a day back in '96 when I received a copy of this album on cd.

It all begins at a party at some girls house. I don't remember her name, but she was a bartender at the Grub Street Grill. Anyway, we were sitting at a table playing cards, old maid I believe. Across the table was a former friend. We used to get along real well until he did me wrong to the point of unforgivability. We had already been in a fight and realized that in such a small town we would just have to deal with each other. Well half way thru the night the urge just hit me. I stood up, grabbed my glass of vodka, and splash, right in his face. I turned to the girl, appologized and went home. I walked into the house and saw a padded envelope on the dining room table. The senders name was Robertta Zimmerman, aka Scarlet, Alice, and the Cats Pajamas, postmark Trenton NJ. Inside was the Mick Taylor cd and a Kieth Richards cassette, Main Offender.

So with my mood lifted I decided I would listen to the cd, the only problem being that I had no cd player. So I headed down to Stuffs. It appears as tho when I was leaving the party, Howie, the owner of Stuffs, was headed to the party. I got there and it was locked up. Or was it? The transum over the front door was unlatched. So I jumped up on the doorknob and pulled myself up onto the small ledge on top of the door. Now for the hard part. I had to lean in and from this crouched possition leap over the wood and glass transum. I made it over with the only catch being my foot on a narrow shelf that displayed bottles from the beer bottle collection. So I sat there drinking my beer and listening to Mick when up walks Howie. As he stood in the doorway asking how I got in I raised my eyes upward. He shook his head, laughed and joined me for a beer.

As for John Wayne, with all the bourbon showers he provided I can only assume that he wasn't buying top shelf.

We've all got to take our lumps

A while back I wrote about how needy people at the hotel can be. I have to amend to that petty and absolutely nuts. This is so unbelievable you know it can't be made up. I received a call to go to a room and help a guest with a problem, the bedspread was too lumpy. Thats right. Not the mattress, or mattress pad, the bedspread. lady. Man, thats crazy. It was a quilted thing and I showed her how it was stitched into 10x10 inch squares. She actually said that this would create cold and warm spots. Lady, take a pill or two a glass of vodka and get over it.

Needless to say I have slept in some less than comfortable places. One night I was hitching down the central coast of Cal and had gotten dropped off in Big Sur. I had been picked up by an older man in a "62 Jaguar. Although I am trusting enough to get into strangers cars, when the guy said I could spend the night at his place I just thought it kind of creepy. So I rolled my bag out on a patch ground off the side of the road, but every time a car came around the corner the headlights would shine on me. Well if I just move over a few feet the lights wont hit me. (have you ever been on PCH in the Big Sur area?). Watch the third step, its a doozy. So there I go tumbling down this hillside. If anyone was within ear shot they must have wondered what was going on. I couldn't keep from laughing as I was rolling towards my eternal sleep. Eventually I stopped and decided just to sleep right there and deal with reality when the sun comes up. When it did I saw that had I gone maybe six more feet it was at least another sixty down to the sudsy rocks. Tlak about one of those " what was I thinking moments".

So ladies and gentleman dont complain about lumpy bedspreads or I'll have to give you some matching cranial lumps.

The Bare All Blog

I just received an e-mail From my friend Kaori. I met her when I was living at the hostel in Santa Fe. She was just visiting the states and happened into my town and we've been friends since. I never made it to Japan, yet, but she did manage to make it to Flagstaff when I was living there.

So one day we were hanging out at the hostel drinking, and boys let me tell you, she can keep up. Well the point in the evening came where I found my clothing to be a little too restricting. Now to put this all into perspective, the hostel is right on Cerrillos rd, THE main drag. There is a deck at the front of the building bordered by the sidewalk and then the road. So the clothes came off and Kaori and I took a short stroll up Cerrillos road. People stared as if they had never seen a naked man taking an evening walk. And yes, there are pictures of Free free of clothing in Japan, and probably America too. I'd like to thank Mellisa for retrieving my underwear from the middle of the road.

Well thats the short version. The long can only be had in person.

Thanks for the memories

Just spent Thanksgiving at work. I really didn't mind working and management felt as tho I would be best suited to handle the different parties scheduled. I think they also think I have nothing to be thankful for. Well if you set aside one day a year to give thanks you're a fricking ingrate. I must admit that I did have my hands full tonight. The Manson girls fought over who got to carve the turkey. That argument came to an end when six of the people attending the acid test were convinced that they were turkeys. What a mess. Cranberry sauce everywhere.

Now I don't condemn or condone the use of drugs, but if there is one I would do again it would be acid, and I know who with. I really think that everyone should do it at least once. If you don't trust my opinion ask Aldous Huxley. New doors do open. Heres one from the vault.

It was a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Ventura CA, 6/13/87. It was between sets at the Dead show. I was about 20 feet out from the stage, dead center. I looked up and saw Jenny. As she later told my friend Jack (she was trippin' at the time, as was I) she was standing behind the fence looking at the crowd and picking up some bad vibes. We happened to see each other and I raised my hand and did the come here finger gesture. We spent the next two hours sitting on my sleeping bag conversing with words unspoken. In the middle of Morning Dew we both started to cry. The show ended and we hit the beach for the rest of the night. I didn't know her name until six weeks later when we ran into each other in Anahiem. I saw her one more time a few weeks later at the Whiskey where her band was playing. And just as the story began it ends.
Point being? Whatever you take from it.

As for my friend Jack Hyman he'll turn up again later.
Was there any continuity to this?

Whats in a name?

Until recently I would have answered, not much. As some of you know, I have recently changed my name to Free, last name Wheelin. I'm not legally changing it for one reason. Tho my family and I may not see eye to eye, hear ear to ear, or believe faith to faith, I still have love and respect for them, and am also proud of my heritage. For me to say that and change my name would be the same as those vegans or people who eat organic foods because they don't want to defile/contaminate their bodies getting tatoos and body piercings. I see it all the time tho.

As for the name Free Wheelin, most people instantly think it came from the Bob Dylan album. Here is how it really came about. It was a golden autumn day, sunday Oct .21. Must have been right around the time my sisters wedding was going on. I was in the midst of a soliloquy, or it could have been a prayer. Thinking about the cats pajamas girl (see impetus, sophia entry). The subject matter switched from the woman I wanted to the woman I need, and as soon as the words, I need a free wheelin woman, rolled off my tongue I laughed and said, man what a perfect name. I got back to the hotel and told the girl at the front desk and she agreed that it is a perfect name for me.

Well thats not all I have to say, but thats where I'll leave it. Actually, check out this life like garden gnome I found the other day.

Rejections and Elections

Coincidence or a curse?
Back in August my friend Scott came up from Flagstaff. So, actually planning ahead for once I requested the Friday night off. As far as I was concerned I had it off even though it wasn't definite.So when the phone rang that afternoon I didn't answer it, but I did listen to the message. "It's 3:30, where are you?" The following Monday my supervisor was fired. As I mentioned a few days back, last Fri. I got a call saying that I was supposed to be at work. This time I went in, but the results were the same. I went in to work on the following Monday only to find out that my supervisor was fired. Of course I will let my new boss know about this.

So there are all these debates and election talk going on at this time, much of it centering around New Hampshire. Back in late '99 and the spring of 2000 I got to witness this circus first hand. Every hopeful was seen strolling the streets of Manchester. There was one time in April when the being that is now our president was scheduled to have a meeting with the Young Republicans New England chapter. Two blocks away my friend Gwen and I were quenching our thirst at the Strange Brew Tavern, the best place in Manchester to go for a beer. (check out their web site) At primary time you will see CNBC , CNN, Fox etc doing stories from there. It becomes a weird mix. The sign on the door reads "bikers welcome but please, no colors". Politicians, reporters, and bikers. "Lawyers, guns and money"

Back to the point. Gwen and I are leaving and when we get to the intersection by the Holiday Inn we see the sidewalks lined with people in their teens and late 20's. Now this isn't the holiday inn most of us knew as kids. This was 5 stories with huge meeting rooms, a parking garage, and a long horse shoe driveway. I believe they have valet parking also. They kept hidden tho after I mistook them for a red vested car jacking ring. So when I see this group of people I tell Gwen she's not going home until she stands up thru the sunroof and chants Bob Dylan over and over as I do a couple loops around the driveway. Semi reluctantly she complied, and soon got into it. But we couldn't go yet. "Gwen, you drive you drive". We changed positions, and the attitudes of the young republicans changed too. Some cheered, and some chimed in, "Bob Dylan, Bob Dylan". I remember to this day the girl on the corner with the long brown hair holding a Bush sign but calling for Bob. I can only hope that she followed the sound of her own voice.

Dusty

Sitting here watching the Packer game and thinking about the last time they won the super bowl. I was out in Oregon watching the game at Stuffs (now Howiees on Front) with among other people, Dusty. Every one should know some one like Dusty. Unfortunately he died a while back in a sadly miserable manner. We used to close Stuffs quite often, and after every one was gone Dusty, Howie and I would sit back for a few beers and the ensuing buffoonery. The night/morning would always close with Dylans Blood On the Tracks accompanied by our vocals. I hadn't seen him much lately, but one of the last times was in Feb. of '99. It was my last night in Medford before I flew back to New Hampshire with plans to go see Dylan and Natalie Merchant in Portland ME that same night. As we were putting down the Chimays and listening to Billy Bragg and Wilco, Mermaid Avenue, some one came up with the idea of writing messages to Bob and Natalie on my body. So out came the marks a lot and with inspiration from the cd, "this machine kills fascist" was written on my chest, and "way down yonder in the minor key" on my back. The next a.m. on the plane I just kept looking down my shirt and laughing.
Anyway, just last month I was back in Medford. I saw a lot of old friends and drank a lot of beer, but when I got back home some thing just didn't seem right. I realized that despite the good times, I didn't get to sing "Lily Rosemary and the Jack of hearts" at the top of my lungs while spilling a beer on Dusty. My point being stay in touch with those people who mean a lot to you, and every time your with those people let the meeting end on a good note...even if you can't sing well.
For those of you that have my # with the OR area code, thats kind of the reason why I have it. When I was out there I got mad at a dear friend, and tho I meant what I said, I could have been less blunt and crude about it. I figured she was mad enough not to answer a call with a 208 area code. Some times you have to be deceptive to do the right thing.
In closing, Bob was great. Natalie was a bit disappointing, but does look a lot better in person.

Funny thing happened on my way to the brewery

I thought I'd go down to the brewery today and see if Pink was there. Pink is not his real name, its Jonah, but his last name is Lloyd, hence Pink Lloyd. Hey, it makes me laugh. Well the funny thing is that I never made it out the door. The phone rang and it was work. It appears as tho the schedule was changed and no one bothered to call me in advance. So nice guy that I am, I go to work. For those of you who don't know, I work at a hotel. Now the irony is that when I lived in Flag I was working with people with special needs. Now in Poky I am working with especially needy people. Having spent time with the only roof over my head being the sky, I find it hard to empathize, or even sympathize with people whose rooms are too hot or too cold, or they don't know how to use a toilet properly. The sad fact is that I am getting paid more to drive people to the airport than I would working with disabled adults.
There's another reason why I am working at a hotel. About 10 years ago I was living in New Hampshire, working third shift ( not that that matters), and at lunch myself, Mike Duddley, and Charlene went out to Mikes car and started drinking some beer. Now, Mike and I had both lived in Oregon and we got to talking and decided that we should go. He starts the car, drives over the snowbank, and down the freeway we go. Well Charlene starts to worry and we only got as far as Boston. We went to one hotel and were told there were no rooms available. The next stop allowed us to stay. In the lobby was a grand piano and on seeing that I knew where I would be for a while. I began to play a piece that I call Rain. I start on the high notes, tapping on the keys like raindrops on a flower. Then bam, slamming on the low keys to produce thunder. Little did I know that during this 30 minute overture the front desk called Mike and asked him to come get me. His response was "do you know who he is? you should ask for his autograph".

I too tired of that and went up to the room to crash. As I got off the elevator I noticed all the furniture in the landing area. So for the next few hours I rode to every floor pulling the chairs, tables, pictures and fake trees and then depositing them in the landing area of our floor. We're talking over 30 chairs, 15 tables, 30 fake trees, and however many pictures, trash cans and mirrors. I wound up falling asleep in the hallway only to be awoken by the sound of Mikes laughter. "You've been a busy man" he said as we walked the narrow path to the elevator door. The point is, some one had to put all that stuff back, and I'm paying for it now. But it was worth it.
There are more Master Duddley (say it with an english accent) stories to come, involving such things as police, horses, and Bela Fleck.

Just to let you know where I'm at, I am now living in Idaho. The city is called Pocatello tho I have a few different names for it, Podunkatello, Pocahellhole, and Roop-Scoopvile. Its a slow little town, really. Nobody ever does the speed limit, always 5-10 under. Getting on the freeway you find yourself at the end of the on ramp with the car in front of you doing 40! A lot of rednecks and mormons up here. Kind of an odd mix. Talk about wondering where one fits in. When I first got here the mormons were knocking at my door at least once a week. Being the nice and understanding guy that I am I would let them have their say, toss out my opinions, and that would be the end of it. Then the day came when one of the guys is looking at my t-shirt. It turns out that they have a great fear of Charles Manson, maybe thinking he might put the whamie on their girls.
This brings me to the buzz word of late, green. Every one is going green. Even the NBC peacock was green for a week. Of course in most cases it is just pc buushee. Back in the early 70's there was an organization formed called ATWA, air, trees, water, animals, or All The Way Alive. This was founded by the one and only Charlie M. Now I'm not saying he's an innocent man, but he's also not guilty of all that he's been convicted of. Even former members of his family say that books such as Helter Skelter are more fiction than fact. At a later date I might bring up some evidence or conflicting testimony, but there is just too much. So check out www.mansonfamilytoday.info and www.mansondirect.com and a great insider website www.beausoleil.net. There you can read convicted murderer Bobby Beausoleils q&a section.
Hows that for scatter brained?

I found it Sophie

Impetus, Sophia

The idea for a blog came from the devine one, Jill Devine, www.oneyearofopus.blogspot.com. The impetus at this time was Sophia, a dear friend of mine from Oregon. Last week I was doing some cleaning and I found an old phone book of mine. Her name and # were in it and she still has the same #, tho yet a new name.
I meet Sophie back in '92. I had left L.A. in '91 to kick the pony and wound up moving to Oregon in '92. If it weren't for Sophie I believe I would have either wound up in prison, or been dead by now. Although I got off of heroin, when I met Sophie I was still smokin' pot, droppin' L and snorttin' coke, along with some very heavy drinking. (Sophie if you are reading this I'm sure you recall). So coming 12/10 I am 15 years drug (illegal) free. Now, having met her changed my life in more ways. For better or worse her little sister...well I don't know what it means, but "is the cats pajamas". Kind of funny throwing about cliches not really knowing the origins. No sense makes sense!
"So Free, whats the point?"
Bear with me and we will get to it at the same time, just not now.
Oh Sophie I owe you an appollogy. Do you remember the Thomas Merton you colligraphed for me? I went to pull it out to take a pic of it but it wasn't there. In that you summed me up. "Thomas you never hold silent. Dam your words and your poetry will out in other ways..." More or less, what it said is that I can't keep my mouth shut, and if for some reason I am unable to speak I still get my point made. Where is it? I can't believe this. You gave it to me 14 years ago and I lost it now?
Well hocus pocus my dear friend, its gone. See, here is the reason for my blog. Oddly enough I remember her telling me that she had seen this in a bathroom at a home she was taking care of.
Yes, in the bathroom, freak.
Sorry Soph. Man I hope it shows up.
(you always did make fun of me for saying "man" so much)
More on Sophie and her sister in the future.

alright

Well I think I'm getting somewhere. I just need to figure out how to get pictures onto this and then I'll be set. I still have beer in the fridge and some Deschutes 19 in the glass. My goal with this is multi-faceted, to entertain and in a bizzare way, educate. Also, as often as I have moved or just had things happen in my life, a lot of people have come and gone. Many were/are very important to me, and if we have lost touch some one may stumble across this who knows some one who knows some one...Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. I promise I wont take you to hell in a bucket.

no idea

I thought this was going to be easy, but I have no idea how to get the main page set up. I suppose this just lends to me reason for attempting this, giving people something to smile about or laugh at. Hopefully I will figure this out before all my beer is gone.