well, i dunno how she felt about it, but i feel like i just gave birth.
man... i got a "block"/fair piece from my place and said... oh my lord... you need to go home.
remember me, lickin the bowl, essentially?
that stuff started kickin in its day 1, effects. i made sure i hadn't taken anything, that day, by that time... and it's like I'm racing for my life, to beat the effects because day 1... u just never know and often... each strain- makes for various stops, on the way up AND U DO NOT WANNA B DRIVIN. it comes on n wears off, at a trickle so i don't need to speed, but i know... ain't comin home, any time soon.
well, if that's what's happening to you... couldn't happen in a better place, than this town.
oh my gosh! again, it's my greatest creation. and the good news is- i think all the cbd cut the higher floor off, early, which isss ideal! if i wanted to hurt n scare peeps, I'd just do full capsules, like n the beginning n keep 8 diff batches, in the fridge... THIS... is not what we want... u don't want people on roads, on first day shit... they could even do collections/kits... here's day 1... u take the collection in a singular cocktail n the other strains that were in it- least the numbers can fluctuate, without gettin em high, in that 6 days. just how the shyt works. i don't like surprises. while new batch days, can b entertaining/amusing; it ain't productive.
people, i lost my shyt in the bar and i feel stupid because i pulled a California line. remember... this man does karaoke because he loves his family. this man walked away from big money, music and when this man sings- you're as close to the talent as u wanna b and you get to have a conversation with em, if u want to. money... just isn't important, unless ur gettin smokes, gas, groceries, or grolsch lager.. and even then... a neighbor will do it, or - has eggs/chickens, etc.; even... the gas cans.
i absolutely lost my shit, at the bar. i am crying. i am shaking... people: this- it's not a place, where men cry in front of men... and i am being sponsored... I'm on my fourth o.j. the beer is no longer sweating. and i know- ever person who serves a drink in that club- knows... I've not had one sip.
in the meantime... I'm pretty much on ecstasy... it's like i put my finger in a light socket and every hair on my body, is on end and if u touch one: orgasm...meanwhile, it's the best anesthetic, ever- my whole mouth feels like i just washed it out, with cocaine... my entire body in numb and i... something happened to me. i couldn't explain, if i wanted to. this kind of inspiration... this kind of focus... all i wanna do is go home... and THIS... was not what i intended to focus on.
i staggered up (kiddin) to the karaoke man, whom i have the utmost respect for. probably figures I'm barney, drunk because I'm bawling on his equipment n prolly, boots, too. bad spare!
i will give you one hundred dollars, right now, if u get me on that microphone.
i mean i might as well have said, "don't you know who i am", or, "i know so and so, put me on"... nobody cares about your money and odds r the person ur speaking to- could by each of us 10x over and still have enough change left over, men, for you to b able to answer, the worlds oldest profession question of: this is how much it would take for me to do some seriously gay, shit, if ur straight, seriously straight shyt... n equally as graphic, if ur gay... and the donkey, if ur that destitute.
they just don't care. wasn't about that, from my end- every dollar in that town, basically gets spent, 100 different ways, as it trickles through the town before the entire buck, is taken in taxes, after all the other useful, transactions. trust me... their property taxes that r 4x mine... pay for the upkeep of the road to the historical shyt and the cops to keep em safe... which i have still, yet to c. the town, polices itself. do something stupid and you're in tomorrow's next hunting accident that's more like a Gibson movie... two men enter the forest, one man leaves. more people die at the wheel from natural causes, vs the booze... and btw... i don't get to do johnny's tires, today because EVERYONE leaves their car unlocked; keys in it...
HOW can u not love this town?! it was dc's birthday, last night.
u know... he's really high maintenance, but the sweetest guy. he's so frail, now it takes an entourage of seriously, 3... just to get him seated. walks in like a drunk... not a drop in him. he didn't choose to b this way. same as me- he's losing his mind and being older- the body has long left the building. apparently, the gossip is- richest man n town, though his place is... higher on the slope and is a supper cool, hippy commune, if he wanted it to be.
u know, southwest casita, type design, with a courtyard, right up the middle. some, 2 story; some, not... and some take both floors. it's weird. then, u try to get off his gated, property and it's like an obstacle course of diff, possibly rented, possibly gun toting, residents and as they all have their own acreage and it's like, "ok... well i guess the creek, would prolly mark their armrest in a theater... but what about the middle armrests?!!"... and u wanna b respectful and yes... i can do- serpentine backing... how many trailers ya got, odd r even? so ya gotta back out slow and watch for muzzle, or scope flashes. but then, he's a redneck n 59 classic cars, half buried, half purring, would not b unusual n half the town, knows u prolly drove him home... but the other half doesn't drink n is like a cross of deliverance, but Canadian style cause they all close and won't sell u booze, even though they're the only ones who have it... after 1130am. you could b holding gold bars, to ur breast, like firewood... bleeding to death out ur ass, like a Stephen king novel and... they just... don't... fucking... care... about the gold n they've all seen ass blood, before and know... "well, he's already standing in dirt... he must b stuck stupid... or retarded... because he obviously hasn't rubbed any of that dirt, on his ass, yet... and perhaps if he wore underwear, it wouldn't have trailed up my faded, 200yr old porch, complete with indian, smoking old man who doesn't speak and a blue healer... yup... heaven... and i still, having been to dc's house a handful of times... couldn't tell u what up, with the hippy commune. it's a cool place, but if u were over 21... it'd b a pain n the ass and you'd end up usein those other buildings, as separate hoards. never, never, know; that's for sure. and he drives a new armada so it's hard to tell if the locals are living with envy, or fear... dood crashes... he goin do alot of damage. but the speed limit... it's a tourist town... they get the occasional, lost citizen... more so than visitors. they put signs in front of their homes, when the weather is right n grammas house, just become a quilt store. these people... it's like stepping into lil house on the prairie, without the assholes n maybe a few plumbing upgrades. but yes... lots off human, mixed in with the cow piss, in the club's, 2 acre, parking lot. if u like old timey shyt... every step u take, you are in a living, breathing, period piece... 50/50, as to whether the bra had been invented and remember: they live, exactly as they wanna and probably own the entire range of mountains, quietly. it's just that cool.
and i walk up and i say
yeah, that... but i go on, blubbering, "man u need to listen to me... and i need you to hear...ME"... this man, is an extremely talented singer. yes, he's printed records... and he writes his own songs and... u know how i am about the right tools to the right people: set up n cleanup... ;p . "you need to hear this, man (head), and let it inspire your heart"... ok... he thinks I'm drunk... i am making a scene...
does that door work? i need to go outside...
and of course he has a key... he's not even the help, really. people just trust each other and yes... he has some roadie gear that sometimes goes elsewhere... lighting... oooo- i could use some of that gaffer's shit, for my tent!!
so we go out n bothers to explain... he likes me... but the karaoke ladies r hardcore and if he lets me take cuts... he's worried both our women won't miss us. fine...
sir... would you mind, sending your daughter out..
this gal... man, i relate to her... she has problems, but they inspired her... this, is the author and i can't remember her f'n name and she sang to me, dedicated n all, twice. dood... she needed to hear it, too.
let me tell you a story...
ok so I'm officially, an intentional, liar, now. but if the promise is made, under duress... i mean, come on... these people... needed to know... one of theirs... just... lost... their best friend n the world.
people... if you are a people watcher... enjoy, your classics... sit across from walmart entries to see the free freakshows and view it as time, well spent; culture... THIS... is where you want to go! johnny is only concerned that if whomever, "borrowed" her car, brings it back to her place, instead of the club, she goin block the farrier and the more, unruly, pups will get out.
where else in the world, can u say this kinda shyt, still goes on, to this day?!! it is a dream come true, for me!!!
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