Is 8:57 to early for beer?

Well...?

TEMPTATIONS PAGE FLIES OUT THE DOOR YOU FOLLOW AND FIND YOURSELF AT WAR

Well I'm sitting here listening to the new Dylan (yes I got it on vinyl) and sipping on a Flying Dog pale ale. As I enjoy both my mind wrestles with a possibility. Usually there are many swirling around in there, just one this time. Santa Barbara. Why not? Why? New scenery, new co workers. But if I were to transfer I would rather go to the desert. St George in Utah, or Palm Desert in CA. St Geo is pretty in and of itself. Palm Desert is just a hop, skip, and a jump from Idylwild in the San Bernadino mts. Go up into the mountains and drop down into a canyon just to sit besides strawberry creek and listen to the brook babble. Also, it is close to Death Valley so I can get things prepared for when The Cheese gets out.

But yeah, Santa Barbara no, maybe SLO just up the highway. Hang out at Pismo Beach. Speaking of which...Many many moons ago Dave Vick and I happened to stumble into Pismo. Just toring the state in my '75 Cutlass, living on oranges and black hash. So we're walking along the sand at the bottom of the cliffs of a cove. Some guy walks by and says "tides coming in". Cool, we'll hop on that big rock and watch the surf roll in. Let me describe this rock. It was twice the size om my current living room and about 20 feet high. A massive piece of stone with two massively stoned pieces on it. After about an hour it was the size of my living room and only about ten feet high. Now add to that the crabs that started coming out and crawling around and the rock is getting fairly congested. I guess as long as the lighter stayed dry we were pretty happy. (I am currently (current, thats funny) laughing myself to tears) The next thing we know the rock is now a small boulder the size of my bathroom and only five feet above the swirling, pounding surf. Talk about stir crazy.

We had two options, jump and swim, or climb a vertical sandstone wall. Jumping in would only lead to getting pounded against our very shelter, so it was climbing time. Dave was six feet tall so we figured he had the best chance. The wall was very smooth with next to nothing but crumbling sandstone to cling to. No go. so we sat and smoked a little more. If all else fails... Damn those crabs. They were every where. I was tired and cold so I thought I would flap my arms. The next thing I know I'm on the top of the ledge looking at Dave down below. "How'd you do it?" he asked. "I have know idea". I still don't. Maybe I had suction cup hands. Who knows? After a while Dave makes it up. Back to the Cutlass, on to Laguna Beach.

Several years later I'm hitching up the 101 and I catch a ride. Now in the eighties most of the people picking up hitchers were yuppies. "I remember back when..." Now they had MBA's and BMW's, expense accounts, and a need for weed. So this guy ask me if I want to stop for lunch. Of course man. So we stop at a restaurant in Pismo that sits up on a cliff.. Sitting at a window table looking out over ocean I look down to see the very same rock mentioned above. Nothing left to do but smile smile smile. But wait, theres more. Before leaving I went into the restroom to clean up a bit. Not having seen myself for a few days I was quite surprised to see my reflection. Every hair on my head was pointed in a different direction. Had I walked up to this place on my own they wouldn't have let me in the door let alone us the bathroom.

Man I miss those days. I guess I am an old fart already.

In retrospect

You know, kids give a lot of indications as to what the will turn out to be later in life. Maybe they're fascinated by airplanes or fire trucks and they become pilots or fire fighters. A boy who plays with GI Joe's may join the army. One that plays with Barbie dolls...well, you get the point. A couple years ago I received a package from my brother. Out of the blue came a blast from my very past. One of my childhood toys. Of all things! Yeah, how many kids do you know that had a stuffed hobo!
Its kind of hard not to laugh. And whose idea was it to sell stuffed hobos to kids?

NEIL YOUNG Tonight Tonight

S o maybe you all recall Pink Lloyd, the bartender from Pocatello. Well his real name was Jonah. Why do I tell you this? Because I like Neil Young. When I moved to ID I had (still do) a Chevy van. Jonah told me that he used to have an econoline. So I tweaked the Young lyrics to " Jonah Lloyd is a drinking man he used to drive an econoline... van." A few days ago I bought an econoline van. So now the song goes " Free wheelin' is a drinking man he just bought an econoline... van.

In the first pic you will see Dylan, David Gilmour, and Free.
In the second, just Free and the latest/newest escape vehicle.
I wound up selling my compass for $400.00, so it pushed my into the buyers market.
The hockey playoffs are on so I have to go.

A Bit of a Dust Up

Actually, it was a dust off. Any pooh, it is difficult for me to mention the word dust without tossing back a room temperature beer in honor of Dusty. Probably the coolest #*@$# I've ever known. No, without a doubt. His most embarrassing moment in life was when he got a back stage pass to see Dylan. In my mind his greatest moment was taking a blow to the head with a Chimay bottle and looking up to smile about it. I proudly wear a scar on my right arm caused by him.

Oh yeah, so today the weather was so nice I thought a little fresh air would do me good. Apparently it did. I decided to take a walk, dust off the turntable, then drink and eat. So as I'm walking down the side walk a group of about 25-30 people started following me. To make it stranger they were all dressed like Beck and were singing "his name is Klatt, he's got eight turntables and a megaphone". Can it get any stranger? Yes! Throw in a tall guy, close to seven feet, who sounds like Cary Grant saying "trips, trips, get your doses here". They followed me for about a quarter mile and then ducked behind a sign post, apparently waiting for some one else whose name they can fit into Beck lyrics. I then took my turntable to the bar for a a quick bite and a few pints.

Lesson learned: next time I take the table out I'm driving.

As to my health

Feelin' better today.
"Whats your name?"
Bob
"Whats your last name Bob?"
Bitchin'
"How you feelin' Bob?"
Bitchin'
"Ladies and gentlemen, Bob Bitchin'!"

Always good on Saturdays. No work and all play makes Free not care anyway.
Plus I have a weird story to tell...next time.
As for this moment, watching the David Gilmour dvd "Remember That Night", drinking a Trois Pistoles, and eating a "Damned Cow". It is a sirloin steak that I marinated over nite in Maudite which translate to the damned.

As to the proof of all is well I present the following photo.

Wait a minute

I'll be right back.
As Albert King would say "He's gots the blues".