I finally read The Sun Also Rises. It was good. It wasn’t until someone asked me what it was about that I realized how good of a writer Hemingway was. For instance check out this passage.

"We all had absinthe at the cafe, no one was drunk so we decided to have dinner. We ate lamb with a few bottles a wine and then fourteen more bottles for dessert. Hal showed up, fresh from the states. He had just finished his book so we soaked a cat in gin and ate it. Hal is a writer as is his wife Judy, whom I’ve slept with. I slept with Judy’s book too and it was lousy. The waiter came by and we dosed him with port and drank his blood. I was starting to feel a bit drunk so I went outside for some air. I waxed poetically about how fucking awesome Paris is for a paragraph. Then the blond that I was in love with waved at me from across the street. I nodded and she made her way towards me, fucking and drinking her way through the crowd. I had a few dozen whiskeys while I waited."

Thats the whole book. Just a bunch of Americans drinking their way through Paris & Spain. Passing around a drunk blond and waxing poetic about the scenery. But Hemingway could make eating a bowl of Cap’n Crunch sound epic.

Having grown weary from one too many car insurance commercials the old bear decided to end it all.

He made large pan of macaroni and cheese with about 30 crushed Dilaudid pills, hummed himself a happy little tune and sat down for his last supper.
The old bear was about halfway through the mac-n-cheese when he began to cry.

All the emotions and memories he hadn’t felt in years came rushing back. It was like he’d forgotten everything.

He’d forgotten being a little cub and playing in the sun. Forgotten his mother and how she loved him, in her crazy fucked way. Catching fish in the cold rushing river. Mauling and eating campers with his old pals.

 A powerful euphoria now overtook him. He wasn’t sure if it was the drugs or the emotions and old memories. He lurched up from his barcalounger and out the front door. The smell of the great outdoors hit him. AHHHH Yes! He wanted to live. He wanted to have new experiences. But it was too late. He began sobbing again.

Lucky for him the Dilaidid made him incredibly nauseous and just then he projectile vomited a massive geyser of bright yellow drug laced stew some 12 feet in the air. It landed with thunderous ker-splat in the bushes in front of his cave. He was going to live. He staggered back inside and slept it off.

 For several hours afterwords, the local towns people had the surreal experience of making friends with all the extra special sweet and calm little forest creatures. Little squirrels, raccoons and possums… they were all so docile and loving that even a child could play with them. That is until the powerful opiate that they’d ingested from all the bear vomit they ate wore off.

and thats how Uncle Billy lost most of his face.

The bright recognition of ones own mortality, poops on the ol giggle parade.

Last night I was visited by 3 Elvis’s

The young, crazy vibrant Elvis

The fat, drugged old Elvis

and the massive dead Elvis

They told me to change my ways baby

that I was losing hydrogen and helium at my core

while expanding in mass.

then they asked me if I was going to eat that

they were pointing at a bare wall

I said no and stepped aside.

They tore the drywall from the studs and young Elvis thrust his manhood upon it making love to it in several different ways and yet somehow all at once.

Fat Elvis crushed up the parts young Elvis was done with. He snorted up the dust but the larger parts he cooked into a cosmic frittata using a red hot skillet.

Dead Elvis just held the whole scene in its infinite mouth - his massive mutton chops would close in upon it obliterating all light and sound. Then the giant horns would sound and the mutton chops lift and the whole cycle would begin again.  This repeated itself all through the commercial break during the age of Kali Yuga and then we went for ice cream.

Alone

my heart shall wander

inconsolable

thru the streets of Tijuana

devastated.

-

The locals will call out to me

"Hey stoner dude!"

but I will not hear them.

-

For tonight there is an empty time slot on TLC

a void that sings of sadness and mystery

and of all the loss you will witness

and of all the internet porn you will see

I kneel & pray to Saint Rowdy Roddy Piper

that these ‘fake hookers’ shall never get to thee.

I was leaving some fancy grocery store in Portland one early summer eve when some old bum sidled up to me.
The funny thing was that he was trying to give me money?! “Could ya buy me a bottle of port?” He pleaded, holding out a 10 dollar bill. “They won’t sell me none” he exhaled, somewhat defeated. He didn’t seem that drunk. They probably just didn’t want him in the store I thought. “Sure buddy.” I shrugged. I had no place to be. So I went in and got him the bottle he had described. And boy was he tickled pink, when I came out and handed it to him. He even tried to get me to keep the change. I gave him his money, but he only excepted once I agreed to have a drink with him. Hell why not. I was just wandering around stoned looking at all the pretty colors and taking in the sounds and smells of the city. Portland is a beautiful fucking city, especially when yer young and its summer. I could still smell the earlier rain in the air. A few bucks in my pocket… hmmmm endless possibilities.
The old bum leaned up against the concrete wall and spun the lid of the port and he handed me the bottle. The port tasted like sweet rotten red wine. We sat down right there on the sidewalk, leaning against the storefront wall. Watching all the cars and people… And he began to tell me stories… hopping freight trains, picking fruit, a bar fight gone bad, someone dying, jail, love & leaving. He’d stop every so often, take a tug off the bottle and sum it all up in a sentence or two. "The man who say he don’t know fear, is a lie." I just nodded, passed him a smoke and listened. Then he told me about the time that Mount St. Helens blew up. “We was all sacked out down on 3rd street by the fountain. It was the middle of the afternoon and I woke up all the sudden and it was dark, like it was nighttime only it was daytime and it was snowing, snowing ash.” He leaned in close to me and his eyes got real big like a childs… he whispered "We thought it was the end of the world!" Then he shook his head and smiled a big ol toothless smile.

Acceptance and peace bloom

in this crazy ass wedding.

Jesus puts down the bong

turns the bottles of water into boxes of wine.

My lion tamer love lays down with the robot that built Cincinnati.

Wires and tendons intertwine and become wireless.

"ALL IS WIRELESS!" declares the NY Times…

as we steal one anothers bandwidth

…your black heart router

blinking and nodding deep into the night.

_________________________________

*photo from rightclickthisshit (unknown)

Me and God were roomies back when he was working on his big book. God was kind of a dick. You know the type of guy that orders pizza and pays for it when the girls are over, but then makes you pay him back in cash the next day. That and he always wanted feedback on his stupid book.

 I kept trying to tell him that it was too long and boring. Also you couldn’t always be killing everyone and then have the ‘good guys’ impregnating their own daughters, it’s gross. He wouldn’t listen. I did help him with the ending a touch. He originally had a giant ape winning 6 - 2. But I pointed out that not only did it not make any sense, but people generally don’t have much empathy for giant flesh eating apes. No one is gonna git all hot bothered about salvation only to be dominated for eternity by some Bigfoot rip-off. You gotta trick em. Tell em their boss will be some laid back hippie who always has weed. Tell em they’ll have gold mansions and virgins and that the Flaming Lips do 3 shows a day. Tell em everything is free and they’ll live forever. I mean people got no imagination, so just let em imagine endless wealth.

Ohhh and have the whole book end as a fever dream so folks don’t take it to literal…

My mom Judy passed away from cancer few months ago. She was 61 and she had been ill for a couple of years. I was glad to be able to spend some time with her before she died. I was with her at the hospice in the last few days. I was surprised at all the emotion I felt. Me and my mom where never that close but all these memories came flooding back. Birthday parties, holidays, of her taking care of me when I was sick. Now I was the one taking care of her. She was so skinny and fragile… she looked like a little helpless child. Thankfully she didn’t seem to be in to much pain. I remember the day she died. I just cried like a little baby and told her how much I loved her. She just smiled and whispered "I’m not going anywhere…" and then she passed.

The next week or 2 was a blur of dealing with her estate and consoling family and friends. I didn’t think much about what she had said to me until one day, when I swore I heard her say my name in a crowd. Later that same evening I found an email from her in my spam folder. It was dated 5 days after her death. It seemed that she was in Liberia and she had come across a great deal of money, but she needed me to send her money? I told her that she wasn’t making any sense. I asked her how her life was now and what was it like to die. She didn’t reply. And then just today I got another email. She was talking all dirty about me satisfying my woman and making my cock bigger… I didn’t know what to say. Whatever the case, it sounds like mom is having fun and that the afterlife is quite a wild time.

suddenly it all makes sense

all the pain

all the suffering

all the terrible Kate Hudson movies…


you know the truth

it exists deep within you

yet it is freely all about

closer than sound

closer than breath


God is doing burnouts

in the parking lot of the KFC

Cuz the Colonel is ALIVE!


tap the keg and rejoice my friends

look upon this picture

and know your true face


You are here to be laughed, cried, to be bored, fucked, and too die

and to save an additional 20% on Tuesdays

you are freedom its very self

now if i could only remember where I put my fucking keys

I was headed to the lake a few weeks ago, when the song “Boys of Summer” came on the radio. It wasn’t the original Don Henley version. It was some ‘pop punk’ boy band cover. I would have slipped in a Air Supply CD, had I not been bound and gagged in the trunk. (perhaps a story for another time)
Anywho the song drags on until they get to the lyric “Out on the road today, I saw a Dead Head sticker on a Cadillac…”
Well our smart-n-sassy vocalist has replaced the term ‘Dead Head’ with ‘Black Flag’. I have to admit I was a little surprised.
I spent the next several days contemplating what former Black Flag frontman, Henry Rollins reactions might have been upon hearing this song. I imagine they were something akin to the stages of grief, only with all the stages prenatally aborted, smashed, and replaced with vitriolic anger.
Somewhere inside though I imagine old Hank had to be at least a little bit flattered. Perhaps later on when he was at an IHOP drinking coffee and writing. He got up, went to the bathroom, caught a glipse of himself in the mirror and blushed. Then he probably practiced scary faces in the mirror until the assistant Manager walked in on him.

I just had an interesting conversation with some scruffy looking homeless guy at a Dennys’. I bought him some breakfast. I just wanna write this all down real quick while its fresh.

So here’s his story

He says “My Uncle turned 53 a few months ago and I gave him a Darryl Dawkins throwback jersey for his Birthday. It had a little extra meaning as he had gotten me a Dawkins jersey some 30 years earlier, for my 5th birthday.”

edit note. Dawkins AKA “Chocolate Thunder” was a 6’11” basketball player from the 70s & 80’s who was famous for slam dunking the ball so hard that he would sometimes shatter the glass in the backboard. According to this guy he was also famous for some metaphysical sayings. None of which I can find on line.

here’s a couple of examples, I’m not sure if these are exact, but close

"Time is proportionate to a things size." the homeless guy repeated this one a few times ” …everything just fits together… falls into place and time no longer exists.”

he continued with his story

I’ll never forget my 5th Birthday. My mom nearly burned down the house, baking my birthday cake. I remember standing across the street watching all the firemen run in and out of our smoky little house. My mom was upset and I was mad too. All this craziness and no cake? It was horrible!
As life went on I learned that there is a shit ton of BS and not nearly enough cake.

So then a few months ago we had another birthday party that involved a Darryl Dawkins jersey. I was at my uncle’s little birthday get together. We were all down at Applebees. We had watched some basketball, had some nacho’s and were finishing up some cake. My Uncle was sitting there in his Dawkins jersey, when he bite into something. Turned out to be a little round piece of glass. He was ok and he joked to me that maybe it was a piece of glass from a Darryl Dawkins shattered backboard. We all laughed. Then my Aunt said “You noticed the name of the dessert right? Chocolate Thunder!”

They all laughed again but my head swam a little, then suddenly I had like the most intense deja-vu experience ever.” EDIT NOTE He rambles on about time and size and color being fresh - He kept repeating “There is only this moment” “no death - no birth” - ect. It was obvious that he had, and was still having, an intense spiritual experience.

he goes on to say

"I didn’t sleep for 3 days… my wife got really worried. She didn’t understand… nobody understands! So I left. Left everything. Thew my keys away. Threw my wallet away and left. I don’t need it. I don’t need anything. I am everything. There is no beggining or end or birth or death there is only this… and it is awesome."

Edit note he went on and on about time and nothing existing - it just sounded like he was on acid or something but he seemed really calm in an intense way. I tried to help the guy and asked his name but he wouldn’t have any of it. I was able to give him $20 and pay for the food. I asked the girl at the counter and she had never seen him. I hope he’s ok.

another weird thing is I got home and started writing this - I googled Darryl Dawkins… guess who’s 53rd birthday it is in about 3 minutes?! How fucking weird is that?!

So Happy Birthday homeless guy - Happy birthday Darryl Dawkins! - Happy Birthday everyone! May you all find peace.

I’ll never forget when I was in the first grade and Billy Jensen brought Lee “FUCKING” Marvin to show and tell. Marvin smelled like gasoline and kept trying to bum smokes off of Joe, who was a sleepy little fat kid in glasses.

None of us really gave a shit about Lee “FUCKING” Marvin though, especially once Chris Willis brought out an actual X-wing fighter. Holy Shit Dude! A real X-wing fighter! not made out of legos! You could put an action figure in the cockpit and you push a button and the wings popped open! And you push another button and Lee “FUCKING” Marvin made laser sounds and sent Joe flying with a left hook.

*editors note “Sons of Lee Marvin” is not a real movie… yet. But it is a secret society, founded by Jim Jarmusch. Memebers include Tom Waits, Nick Cave, Iggy Pop, Neil Young, Thurston Moore, Jeff Bridges, and Jon Lurie.

I was a dishwasher at a Bonanza steakhouse when I was in High school. It was a terrible job.

One of the busboys was an elderly black gentleman named Clyde. I didn’t understand most of what Clyde said, maybe a word or two. “Lobster, mutha fucka, & bitch ass" were some favorites. He smoked these giant joints, was always singing, and he had this infectious wheezing laughter.
One night, when we were closing up, some of the guys who were a little older than me tried to get Clyde to buy them some beer. Clyde sold them a wine bottle full of something homemade, it was clear and smelled like floor cleaner.

I sat out back with Clyde and we watched em drink it. It was a warm summer night. One of the guys had pulled his Monty Carlo around and had the stereo going. I Heard A Rumor by Bananarama was playing. The guys were getting pretty wild and I was beginning to get a little nervous. My father was a pretty vicious drunk. Suddenly one of them turned into a bubble and began to float off. Then one by one they all turned into bubbles and floated up and away. That Righteous Brothers song, I’ve Had The Time of My Life was playing now and Clyde just laughed his Muttley laugh and walked back inside the restaurant. All was silent except for the music. When I turned around there was a small boy standing there. He was so black, he was blue. He looked almost like a little alien king or something. He had on a bunch of fancy gold jewelry. He smiled at me and cocked his head. He held out his hands and presented me with a golden fish. For some reason I just started crying.

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