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Location: The Promised Land

This is my triumphant return to the lifestyle I've always furthered and forwarded in my heart, at least, so let's blast off. The first half of my life has been incredible and the second segment will include more splendors than any Ottoman Sultan could ever have wished for in his golden repose. Anyway, fasten your laughter belt cuz you're on a collision course with wackiness.

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Saints Preserve Us

This is now just a memory or, more accurately, a digital photo of a memory of Bob's black bug in front of my sister's house in Echo Park which is an area that keeps The Shield in business but you get used to helicopters and soon it's like giant annoying flies are buzzing far overhead but they don't bother you unless you bother them (mostly true) so I again pray for all living creatures, maybe a little extra for the great ones, and do my thing which I'm starting to figure out and that makes me happy that I can still learn things, including tricks, which no kid deserves. Oops, then. Forgot what day it just became and refuse to retype the party of the first part (anyone get the reference to "The Quiet Man?") so we now recognize the mighty Irish who somehow have managed to export culture in a unique manner that has touched the world so I swear that I shall raise a pint of the mother's milk which is Guiness Extra Stout to the uneducated or illiterate which is one of the funniest things I've written in a long time, says I, and I can taste the creamy goodness already, can't you? Meanhwhile, back in the deep south I advertise young love for sale, or was that Cole Porter? I started to quote Woody Allen and say that I deserved Cole Porter but that would make me sound gay and I'm just a fan of the ladyships that sail up and down the four winds, forever! Spring is in the air and I have the scent and I start to remember important stuff that I used to know and can now put knowledge into action and crush any who oppose me, unlike the Irish. Maybe that was uncalled for but that's our world and we cling to it like so much static in a pile of freshly laundered whites, dude, so we're forced to realize that bones break and cats scratch the fever in to you so deep that you can't get her out of your head and the drink doesn't work any more and I still swim back in time to the sound of a Volkswagen.


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