UPDATE>>>No news is good news.

It seems to me that I'm engaged in a game of chicken with the local D.A. in that I'm hoping he does not want to have a jury trial over two grams of pot, and I belive he would have me plead guilty to avoid the same trial. I'm guessing here. My court day came and went. It was over in ten seconds- literally. When it was over I had a yellow piece of paper, exactly like the one I left court with last time, only with a different date on it. THEORETICALLY, they're going to go ahead with the jury trial, which I don't really see happening. My lawyer pointed out that I could end up oweing some legal fees if I fight this. I told her, "I don't care. It's a bullshit charge. Pardon my language."
She (my lawyer) still plans to file a motion to supress the evidence, but I'm not counting on that. See, this is why we have an ACLU, ya' know? I have to fight. It's just wrong to just knock on someone's door and detain and grill them for, well, however long they took. They had no complaint, they didn't even know who I was. They didn't smell anything. In fact they were there on the property for a specific reason, which had nothing to do with me. It's just plain bullshit, and I have to stand up for myself. I know the judge wouldn't stand for that sort of treatment, and I expect the same courtesy. STAY TUNED...

Ain't that a bicth! (Court, that is)

I just had to write this letter...

http://us.f350.mail.yahoo.com/ym/Compose?YY=82794&y5beta=yes

The Bitch ain't "back"- he never left.

Well, I had typed my whole life story, and then lost it. Not really. But I did lose the post. Mostly it just said that Elton John rocked his own "party" (Let's face it, that thing on TV was not the party, which leads me to wonder, who's playing his real party?)
Normally I wouldn't watch that sort of thing, but I only have six channels out here, so it was the best non-repeat thing on.
My "step-dad " Travis Holder has the distinction of being the man who actually booked Elton's first United States appearance at the Troubador in L.A. against the advisement of Doug Weston, the club's owner (at the time at least). The rest is history. Anyone else remember Elton John being on the cover of every single fucking magazine in existence back in the 70s? He was bigger than the Beatles, who were roumered to be bigger than Jesus. My big sister went nuts on Elton. Her bedroom covered from floor to ceiling with ELTON!! I however had the good taste to go the Star Wars route in my room. Yeah...Star Wars...Stylin'.
I still remember the morning Elton died, to me. I was sleeping at a friends house, and I woke up to "Don't go breakin' my heart"- it was catchy, it was awful. Just awful. And back then they just played the shit out of everything, so it was one of those songs that just wouldn't go away. But everything he did before that, piece of crap, was pretty damn good. I wasn't a fan really, but it sure got played a lot in my house, as well as the radio, so it becomes a part of you. Funny, I probably know the words to his stuff better than my wacko-fan sister.
In closing, it was a pretty good performance for an old man. Amazing fingers. Not bad for a guy who almost killed himself a few times back then. A good thing too. He'd have missed the party.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY...ya' weirdo.

It's time to go to war, again?

Here we are, the Bush gang is gonna do it again. They're looking for an excuse. They may have even orchestrated an excuse. You don't poke the bear, even if it's a little one, unless you're ready to wrestle said bear. America is not ready for a bear-fight. Stretched thin, our troops are at the breaking point, and PTSD is taking a toll on the minds of our country's children.

We have half the world pissed-off at us, and it seems, we don't care. We're the bully on the playground. Self-appointed hall monitors of the planet. We don't care if we're liked, cause we can kick (nuke)your ass. Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting yourself. I've heard roumors of some big military action near the end of the week. What's with all the battleships in the gulf there anyway? In the last six and a half years or so, I've learned to trust my gut, and my gut says, "From the mind of Mr. dumb, something wicked this way comes."

I'm on my 6th body, theoretically.

`Today is my 42nd birthday. Amazing. That's at least twelve years longer than I expected to live back in my teens. I owe it all to marriage. I've no doubt that without my loving wife, I'd be long dead.

They say (you know, "them" or "they") that you get a totally new body every seven years. That is, all the matter in your body gets replaced every seven years by the food you eat, the water you drink, the air you breath. I like beliving that. It's a tidy little theory, but I doubt it's entirely true. I'll bet some of that matter hangs around for decades, maybe more.

So, for the sake of simplicity we'll call it my 6th body. So far, I've probably smoked thirty cigarettes today. Can't seem to stop myself. I've had a couple shots of vodka too- hey, It's my birthday. So, I'm well on my way to abusing my 6th body. Do I deserve a seventh?

Anyway, it's been a good day. I spent it with my wife doing nothing, listening to NPR, smoking, and I topped it all of with some awsome beef tacos from the local burrito shack. They were yummy, I tell ya'. Also downloaded this new audio software called "Audacity" which is pretty nice for a free program. What it lacks in features, it makes up for in plain simplicity. You barely need to know what you're doing, and you're multi-tracking. Cool.

I'm still waiting on this print (above) I bought on ebay (my present) of Elliott Smith. It was a little expensive, but it's signed by the artist and done on canvis. About 14'x14". It has a sort of surreal religious tragic creepy beauty, and it was featured in an article in SPIN magazine. That's cool enough for me.

Also, I've gotten a couple of comments recently. Someone actually read my "Ride the pig" story, and left a supportive comment. Thanks. It means a lot. I don't tell people to "read my blog" or anything. It's just here. Mostly for me. I try to write it as if it will be read by someone, and sometimes, it is...read...by someone.

It's not like it was heroin...

April 11th. That's the day I go to court for that posession charge (see story: "The one about the cops-Ride the pig" below) I get a little nervous when I think about it, seeing as I've been to jail once before. 1995ish. Long story, but let's just say I don't want to go back. The brothers and the homeys all said I'd be back, and for eleven years I've proved them wrong. I'm not looking at anything more than a FINE and PROBATION, but that's unaccepable. I'm fighting this. It was wrong. Still, I get nervous. And no...this is not an APRIL FOOLS DAY entry.