Thanksgiving day

It is ironic that such a great nation only needs one day to give thanks. To me it is just another day. I give thanks every day. For what? Having had the opportunity to stand in one spot ( and wiggle around) (Jerry Lee Lewis?) with the clothes on my body being the only things I owned. It was a bullfrog blues moment.

Here is how my day began. I woke up under my eucalyptus tree and headed to work, the Target store at the corner of Balboa and Nordoff. I went in feeling good and kicked ass. My supervisor walked into a jewelry lock up, and as soon as she was in I clicked the pad lock. "Open it up" I heard, not just from her, but also this roop scoop from the loading dock.
"Man, I don't have the key, its in there with her!"
"Do you want to get fired?"
"No, I quit!"

Statistically I was fired, which meant I could get my check right then.
I did.
I walked by my old home, Dearborn Park, and on up to my tree. Half way there I did the pocket check. No keys or spare change in the front pockets. Back pockets were empty as well.
WHAT?
Oh yeah, the slit in my back pocket.
My wallet and last check!
180 double time.
Retrace steps...blank pads.

Thats life. Alright. Walk up to the tree.
Where's my back pack?

Gone!

Bullfrog Blues moment. LAughing just to keep from crying.
How could you not laugh!?!

Now thats FREEWHEELIN'dom

Good Head

Despite the fact that there are three brew pubs here, the tri-cities is not a beer "town". Yesterday I went to four stores looking for some beer. I'm not saying I didn't have any options, but I always end up making the same choices. Now, if any of you have the capital and would like to open your own version of Western Post Liquors, I am looking for a new job. I would be willing to work for beer and pretzels, and would even volunteer to work over nite security.

A good job, and a good beer, is hard to find around here. Last nite I even got to the point of looking up how to become a Trappist monk. I figure this would provide me with my escape from america, a job, a place to live, and an endless supply of one of the best beers in the world. As a plus I believe they take a vow of silence. I actually did go six days once with saying only one word. Then there was another time when I went three days where everything I said rhymed. It was like living in Dr. Seuss' head. Imagine not having to listen to your coworkers nonsense! Theosophically we may not see eye to eye, but I would be willing to over look their misunderstandings.

Oh yeah, good head. well they say you can judge a beer by its head. In most cases that is true, depending on the style of beer. It is said that you should be able to float a bottle cap or dime on the head of a good beer. I go with the dime because of the density. I just lost my train of thought. I may not have had one during all of this. I just wanted to post this photo. Time to go pack for Belgium..

MJ

Was it just a coincidence? That was how she signed off on her papers at work. She also provided a lot of good mary jane. That was how we met. Both I mean. Work and grass. Needless to say, she was cool and mellow. A sparkle always shining thru her narrow eyes and a subtle grin with every spoken word.Warm yet mischievous. Not really sure what attracted her to me. Maybe it was the fact that we were both on e z street. At least that is what the company we worked for was called. Maybe it is what has drawn others to me...Greg the Goiter. Okay, thats five other stories.

So one day MAry asks me if I want to hit the beach.
"Twist my joint why dont you"
I said alright, just take me home to grab some shorts. I pointed here, turn there. Pull up here.
She pulled over in front of a house on Superior street in Northridge. I got out, ran across the street, and ducked underneath a tree (the one I was living under at the time. post eucalyptus tree era). I came back out wearing a pair of red and white tie dye baggies. She didn't bat an eye. Maybe Jack Hyman, a mutual friend of ours told her, but if so all the more power to her. She could have thought "this loser lives under a tree". Obviously she wasn't that type. Many times going thru Topanga canyon gettin high. Spending the nite on the beach. My home away from my home away from my home, next to my other home on the coast.

As things went in those days I would end up getting lost or found chasing grains in a sand storm. I did get lost for a couple years, and found our supervisor a little while after that.
"Hey Bob...."
"Well...."
"Sshhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeee"

Man, I felt really bad. Maybe the worst I felt about how my actions impacted another. Maybe there is one worse. I guess its a tie. No one wins.

She no longer lived in her apt. It sucked.
even now, twenty years later it sucks.
I drove around a lot looking for her.
Would I have done any good? Did I do harm?
She was like me, and I'm sure she would say "chicken wing".
Like many we just cross paths. Sometimes its shallow prints in the dust soon to be blown away. Other times we are trudging thru the muck and mire together leaving lasting impressions after a good sun baked session.

Needless to say I hope she is alive and doing well. Living in Chatsworth and listening to Fleetwood Mac.

Cheers MJ

Ladies and Gentlemen...

...The Rolling stones! watching the Stones dvd of that title. It is from the '72 tour. I often think that if there was one album recording process I wish I could have sat in on it would have been "Exile On Main Street". Keith in his junkie glory. Mick Taylor being Mick Taylor. Sliding like melted butter down your forearms after over indulging on lobster. A recording session of over indulgence. Funkin' blues. So during this concert the lesser Mick, Jagger that is says, something about or to the affect of "not much...between friends". Friends are a funny thing. As far as I'm concerned they are hard to find. One can easily make friends if you want to compromise and play the game. Look at my space or face book. Superficial pools of piss. Every day we're forced to swim thru a world of the force feed fecal fools. I often wonder if they are allowed to chew or if they are made to swallow whole.

Actually, going back to friends, that is the reason I started this blog, to stay connected and possibly reconnect with others. So many gaps and disappearances in my days. sometimes never even saying, or having the chance to say good bye to many. Back again to myfacespacebook roop scoop mental midget mindset. If you need to seek out a million and two friends there is something lacking within. How many of those will bleed out for you? Will you bleed out for them?

Back to the Stones. Yes they were the worlds greatest rock and roll band. Check these out...speaking of stones, friends, and rock and rolling , strolling 66 looking for fights on unhappy nites, condiment car wash, grateful really grateful not dead real estate, sharon tate agents, swinging naked, duct taped to railroad guards, dingdingdingdingdingdingdingding, snowball bidet, whose turn was it to watch me any way? bar crawlin, counter top sprawlin, dont call me DAHLIN, you gotta go FLO, smith n wesson wont stop me from messin, morphine drips, strips and teases, no one ever pleases, cept the girl i met yesterday, all my troubles come back day after day, lookin for a nother way, far way, death valley

Sorry...stones and friends. So the '72 poster is from Lawallrus. It always makes me smile. For those of you who are Government Mule fans look at the liner notes of their first two cds. You will see Steve Lawalls name there as custom bass artisan for Allen Woody. The black and white 60's is one I had never seen before. There are no creases leading me to believe it wasn't from an album. Along with that no staple marks so not from a magazine. This one came from the Great Instigator. (See the post "What Just Happened" from 2/08 to meet these two)

Well I really got lost on this one. I was actually going to write about Mary Jarret. I did so last week, but after reading it the next day I realized I didn't do her justice and deleted it. I will one day soon I hope. Beyond a real friend.

HArd to find books

Yeah, I work at a book store, but 98% of the books there can feed the flames. So at the end of another lousy week at the aforementioned cookie cutter factory I have reason to smile other than Friday, Chimay, and DBT. I just checked out ebay, searching old Chuckie Cheese. There are two books on my Manson list; My life with Charles Manson, by Paul Watkins, and Love Letters to a Secret Disciple, by Sy Wizinski. Well now I only need the former. Just listed was Love Letters with a buy it now option...39.99. The lowest I ever saw this sell at was 80. Just one hour into the auction...here I am, Proud owner!

Another book I'm looking for is "Aristotle & Nietzsche Break Bread In The Alley; the greatest of culture brought to ruins by a pop culture, lemming society" written by Free Wheelin'

Other than that I am just patiently waiting for all helter skelter to break loose.

So here is a question to ponder. You may think the answer is quite obvious but there is a tremendous ripple affect. Suppose I'm in Turkey and I ingest a bunch of condoms full of heroin. I get back to the States, take a laxative and discharge the smack. Is it now legal?