Sorry friends, I've been very busy, being lazy!

Hello to my old friends whom I have found again after SO long- Marty K. and Adam D. It's good to be back in touch.

No updates on the court thing really. They are supposedly planning to offer me a "deal" which means a reduction in the fine I would have to pay (from like $350.00 to $100.00) but that is not the issue here. The issue is one of my right to privacy, and my right to safe in my home from unnecessary BULLSHIT. So now there is a tentative court date on August 28th (preceeded by a meeting in which they plan to offer me that crappy "deal" on August 21st) so they really want to push this thing and bring me to trial for two grams of weed. Whatever.

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.

NEW E.S. ALBUM COMING SOON!

And here's the cover to the new Elliott Album. If you care, do a search, as there is a lot of leaked info, including a list of songs (which I don't have handy) though some die-hard fans may already have some, even most, of these recordings, I would expect the sound to be superior, and I hope to find some more fleshed-out versions than I've heard as of yet (I'm hoping to hear "See you in Heaven" with lyrics. That'd be real sweet.)

Okay!! I've got my WinXP!! (Just gotta work out the bugs...)

The little problem I was having with the missing cursor (Curses!) seems to have been remedied now that I've upgraded my OS with something six years old (win XP) as opposed to seven (win ME), I guess.
At any rate, this should put an end to the tedious method I was forced to employ in order to get my writings to my blog. This should make for more spontaneiety in future entries. Thanks for bearing with me- both of you. (Thus far I've only recieved two comments, so both of them.)
In the hours, days, weeks, months, to come, I intend to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the defendant did willfully, maliciously, and with a total disregard for any measure of human decency, insert his.....wait. What was I thinking?

Too tired to type right now- Enjoy some art!

The one about the cops-Ride the PIG!

God, forgive me. I HATE the fuckin’ cops. Sure lots of people do, some of them because they’re actually criminals who have something to hide, you know, people who victimize others, people who hurt, or steal, or whatever. That’s not me. I mind my business. Heck, I hardly ever even leave my home! And yet, “on or about” December 11 2006, I was sitting in my crappy trailer with my neighbor (name withheld), talking about her relationship problems with her somewhat of an asshole boyfriend. Out of nowhere, there was a voice from outside. “Hello!! Sheriff’s Department!!” So I went to my door to see what was up.
I stepped outside (my first mistake) and met up with two Riverside County Deputies and two other people in civilian clothes. I extended my hand to shake the hand of one of the officers (second mistake) as I said, “What can I do for you?” He immediately grabbed my hand, spun me around, and proceeded to frisk me. There was nothing in my pockets except my Zippo lighter. Then began the questions, some of them quite inappropriate. Things like, “Are there any drugs in the house?” I told them I had prescription pain meds in my house. “What do you take those for?” they asked. “That’s none of your business- That’s my personal medical information” They continued to grill me as to the nature of my condition, so finally, annoyed, I relented, and said, “Arthritis- Is THAT satisfactory?” They then asked if there was anyone else in the house. I told them my neighbor was inside. They asked her name a proceeded to call her out of the house, and began to question her as well. One thing they asked was her age (she is twenty). “Oh, c’mon, you aren’t twenty. How old are you really?” Apparently, they were convinced that I had an under-aged girl in my house, which in and of itself is not a crime, so they must have believed there was something sexual going on and that they had a pedophile on their hands (the sick fucks!).
At some point I asked them why they were even there. “We’re here assisting the county inspectors.” Those are the people who make sure all the brush has been properly cleared on the property and other such things. Now, county inspectors have nothing to do with anything that’s going on inside my house. In fact the inspectors come out every year, without any police escort- and there has NEVER been any sort of incident that would warrant them needing a law enforcement escort. Essentially they used the occasion to conduct a random interragation.
“Do you mind if we have a look inside the house?”
“Yes I mind. Get a warrant.” I said.
“Listen- If we have to come back with a warrant we’ll wait until your wife is here, and we’ll tear your shit up.” Then one of them added, “Well, you know, you’re technically under arrest, so we are allowed to search your house.”
“What does that mean? Technically??? Are you going to read me my rights?” It seems they knew they were full of shit, so they kept asking me to let them search the premises, and I kept telling them to “GET A WARRANT.”
“If you’ve got nothing to hide, you shouldn’t have a problem with us looking around. You sure there’s no drugs in there?” At this point it had been about thirty minutes since this whole thing started, and they had me sitting on a plastic milk crate. I hadn’t taken my pain medication yet that morning/afternoon, so I was getting pretty uncomfortable. I guess that’s why, in hopes of ending this unpleasantness I said, “Look, I’ve got about a gram a marijuana in there.”
“You mid getting it for us?”
“Yes, I do mind.” They were baffled.
“Why not?”
“Because, it’s mine.” I need it. The pills make me nauseous.
Now they were REALLY baffled. They knew I had narcotics inside, yet they had no warrant- No permission to go get it- and I was not about to give it up. Once again I told them to get a warrant.
They kept pressuring me to get the offending plant matter for them for about another ten minutes, all the while still detaining my neighbor too. I was getting really uncomfortable for lack of medication, and I felt bad that my friend had been dragged into this crap along with me, so I finally said (my third mistake, at least) that if it would end this, I’d get the marijuana for them.
They allowed me to go in, alone, and I very quickly re-emerged with the devil weed (all the while praising Satan under my breath).
Now this part bothers me the most. Even after I gave it up, they still insisted on searching my home.
“How about you let just one of us go in there with you and look around? ”You can pick either one of us.”
“Okay, ONE of you. You. (I picked the one I hated the least)Just so you can see that there’s no meth labs or dead hookers or whatever it is you think you’re gonna find- but I don’t want you going through my drawers and shit- just look. I don’t need you going through the tattered remains of my life.” Mostly, the place was a mess, and I hadn’t counted on guests.
“Well, he’s the lead officer on this so, he should go.” So much for me picking the one I wanted.
“Whatever. Fine.”
So one of the fucks went into the house with me and had a cursory look around. There was nothing to see so we went back outside.
Then they asked me about an old refridgerator, about fifty yards from my place. It wasn’t mine, nor had it ever been, I am not the landlord, or the property manager. In short- not my problem.
“Well, you’re going to be getting a ticket for that.” Whatever. “By the way, do you have a medical marijuana card?” I told them no. “Well it wouldn’t matter anyway.” later found out that it actually would matter. I happen to be in one of the few counties, in one of the few states, where having such a card does matter. Liars
They wrote me up a ticket, though I didn’t know if it was for the refrigerator or the weed. Turns out, the weed, which, all said and done, is only a ticket.
Jumping ahead to my court date, I plead not guilty, and applied for a public defender. This meant I had to come back again to be assigned an attorney. Oh what fun. My defender seems to agree with me that this was an illegal seizure, or something along those lines, and plans to file a “motion to suppress.” If I can get my neighbor to testify as to the fact that I repeatedly asked them to get a warrant, and that they said I was, “technically under arrest”, should make my case a slam-dunk. Unfortunately, my neighbor has moved to San Diego, ironically because the Sheriffs Dept. was in their home, poking around, without a warrant no less. This caused them to pack up and move out that very evening. Fortunately I have stayed in touch with her and she should be able to help me, as long as she can get up here, and my Public Defender says they can possibly arrange transportation. How cool would that be?

CUT TO THREE MONTHS LATER-MARCH 12,2007

“BANG!!!” That’s how these pricks knock on my door. Yeah, they’re back. They’re actually back!! I had been awake for almost three days, re-aquainting myself with my new computer, tracking some bids on ebay, etc, and I had just barely fallen asleep when the knock- no, BANG, came at my flimsy trailer door. Damned if it wasn’t the same fucking fucks. (Fuck!) This time however, there was no stepping outside, no friendly handshake, no mistakes.
“You mind stepping out here?” They didn’t even know my damned name!
“Absolutely not!”
”Do you mind if we come in?”
“Hell yes I mind!! Get a warrant. What do you want?”
“We’re here with the inspectors again.” And yet, I saw no inspectors.
“Well, where are they?”
They motioned up the road, “Up there by that white SUV.” I saw the SUV, but not the inspectors.
“Well then you’re not really with them then are you?”
“We need to speak to you as a representative of the property.”
They were trying to trick me outside again. “I’m not a representative of shit! LEAVE ME ALONE!”
“Do you have any warrants for you arrest? Are you on probation? Parole? Are there any drugs in the house? Blah blah blah…?”
“No. No. No. No. Now fuck off!!” (Oh yes I did.)
“Well we’re going to go check on all that.”
“You have fun. Bye “ And that’s how that ended. They did not come back. I’m more concerned with why they were there at all. I have a pending court case against these very fucks, so as far as I’m concerned this was harassment and/or intimidation of the police variety. Oh, and they asked me my name, meaning even after citing me three months earlier they still didn’t know whose door they were banging on.
In case it was lost in the story, these guys had no reason to knock on my door three months ago, there had been no complaint made, I hadn’t even been smoking that morning, so it wasn’t like they smelled it either, so the only reason I can figure they knocked that day is because they didn’t know I was fighting the ticket they’d given me, and thought I’d be on probation for the possession charge, in which case they pretty much don’t need a warrant any more. (Most people I saw in court with the same charge were making guilty pleas.)
It’s just plain bullshit. You can’t just go door to door fishing for crimes. You can’t just detain someone for upwards of hour without any evidence of a crime having been committed. You the reader may not care for pot, or for the people who use it but someone has to stand up against these pigs that think they don’t have to play by the rules,(their rules) particularly when they think most people don’t know what their rights are. Don’t be mislead, I’m doing this, for me, not for the rest of you. I don’t want a fucking possession charge on my record, for what I do in my own home. I overcame all the hard drugs, the bad drugs. To go down now, over two joints, would just be a shame.–V.D.

Thank you for your patience-Now, without further delay...

Hello world (wide web). I’m finally back, after… a long time. My computer went on the blink and I couldn’t fix it. And how I tried.
But thanks to my sister (who for now will remain nameless) I’m back to the FUCKING HEADACHE that is computing. THANKS SIS!!! No. Really.
A lot has happened, yet little has happened. I’d say things are better overall, thanks mostly to my quitting all of my psych-meds. Ten years I spent on that crap, from prozac to lithium to Geodon (Don’t ask). Ten years I wasted. I am convinced that the single biggest source of depression in my life was the meds. Now of course, it’s coming out that a lot of those SSRI drugs cause suicidal ideation- though they’re only acknowledging this problem in people under eighteen. How stupid is THAT?
Any how, I’ve gotten myself back online and I will be feeling obligated to update this blog more often
Just one thing more. My blogging software is acting a bit screwy so I’m pasting my text to the page from ms word, this is a bit weird but seems to get my words to my page (though for some reason the text acts like a link if you click it, so I may try to make sure they link to something, like a photo)
Thanks for stopping by.

ELLIOTT SMITH MEMORIAL- "Solutions" Sunset Blvd. Silverlake CA

This is a photo taken shortly after the passing of the master songwriter. The memorial itself is one of the most saddening and beautiful things I have ever seen. I really didn’t really think that all that many people knew who he was, I’m delighted to find, I was wrong.

I wouldn't trust him with a lost child at a department store

The preceding statement is from the psychiatrist that Social Security had me see so they could evaluate my pending SSI case. Yeah, I've got problems- both mentally and physically- but I was shocked to see such a statement from a supposed professional who only saw me for about twenty minutes. I'll say this, you'd better fuckin' HOPE that I find your lost child before someone really insane finds them. I also freely admitted that I do drink alcohol occasionally, i.e: about three or four times a month. That admission led him to conclude rhat I am an alcoholic. It sure doesn't always pay to be honest.

Sometimes it sucks to be right.

It would seem that I knew instinctively that, well that this was either a terribe act of neglect on the part of Bush & Co. or this was one terrible act orchestrated by the Bush administration. Conspiracy theory? Not to me. To me it's just, CONSPIRACY. Whatever the case, one thing is clear, and that is that the President is the servent of the people, or, he's supposed to be, yet he clearly doesn't care what we the people think. As of today his approval rating is in the low to mid thirty percentile. Does he give a shit what we the people think about....anything?

Intensity is the mother of intention.

Eventually of course, the towers fell (along with building seven) and now "the whole world has changed" theoretically, and I've got this piece of music with no lyrics. This was one of those times for me where it seemed like I was plucking the words out of the air or something.

The image of the great collapse made me think of a bible verse from Revelation:

Babylon the great is fallen, is fallen.

I always remembered that phrase because it always struck me a bit odd. I mean, why say it twice? "is fallen, is fallen?" Now I'm not a big bible guy, but it's pretty trippy when you look at 9/11 through the lens of that verse. Two buildings, two symbols of capitalist excess, two, "is fallens." Simple.

Here are the words to the song as I remember them from that place you remember things from:

BABYLON

Manhattan city towers standin' side by side;

A monument of human power, wealth, and pride-

In my opinion they just build them way too high;

but who the hell am I to say?

Yeah, who the hell am I?

Something suicidal came out of the sky;

a ball of fire as captured by the camera's eye-

and as we lapsed into the "who what where and why,"

two hundred-twenty floors collapsed in double time,

Babylon the great has really fallen, fallen-

Babylon the great has truly fallen, fallen-

Meanwhile not too far away in Washington,

the dogs of war were seated in their Pentagon;

and if they're the ones who claim to know what's goin' on,

well who the hell are "they" momma?

Somethin' homicidal came out of the sky;

A flaming arrow struck the nation in the side.

When trouble makers find themselves in troubled times,

who can really say, momma?

Who can really say?

Babylon the great has finally fallen, fallen-

Babylon the great has fuckin' fallen, fallen-

It's better to be wide awake than paranoid;

It's better to be paranoid than be destroyed-

but you'd better know the methods evil men employ;

You'd better look around brother-

Better look around.

Somethin' suicidal came out of the blue;

Somethin' in my bible's finally comin' true;

Nostradamus made the New York Book Review,

but no one had a clue really,

no one had a clue.

Babylon the great-blah blah blah......

What the hell happened to America?

That's what they're going to be asking in the not too distant future, although most people of average intelligence are asking already. Yeah , okay. Sure. This is still "America" but clearly something fundemental has changed. Ever since 9/11 I haven't been feeling all that free. Granted, G.W.Bush made it known, everything has changed since that terrible event in 2001- though what I have come to belive he actually meant was something more like- WE ARE ABOUT TO CHANGE EVERYTHING- SO GET WITH THE (NEW) PROGRAM- AND SHUT THE HELL UP!- or something like that.

Everyone should remember where they were when the towers fell, even if they were totally wasted, which, I may have been, I'm not sure. I know I was in L.A. house-sitting for a friend, I had been up all night working on a piece of music that I just sort of pulled out of the air. It didn't have any lyrics on the morning of 9/11, but it was cool, and I was tired, so I went to lie down with the radio on KPFK (Check out www.kpfk.org for all the news they don't give you on FOX NEWS) Exhausted I almost fell asleep instantly- almost.

On the radio they were talking about how a plane had hit one of the Trade Towers. I nearly missed the whole thing completely due to my sleep deprived state. For a moment I was pretty certain that I was just dreaming...I mean, if a plane had really hit one of the towers, then it'd be on like every television station in the country, right?

So I got up, went back out to the living room, flipped on the tube, and- HOLY CRAP!! I had got up in time to see the second plane hit, at which point it was clear to anyone with a central nervous system that this was definitely not an accident. Being the liberal-lefty that I am the first thing I said was, "What did we do?" I don't know exactly what I meant by that, but hey, I hadn't slept for like twenty-four hours, and I sure as shit wasn't going to sleep now.

Like nearly everyone else, I just stared in horror for a period of time. Then I popped a tape into the VCR, because...well, because.

At some point I know I called my wife, who was about a hundred miles away. Honestly, I don't know what we said to each other, but really, what does one say?

I thought about my buddy whose house I was watching. He was somwhere in the Anza-Borrego wilderness camping. "He doesn't even know this has happened" I thought. Imagine that.