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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.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

Tickets, please.

This is my first rendering done in California and Hank at Dodger Stadium is the subject. Some here have already claimed this to be a fake because dogs aren't allowed in the stadium but they are on certain occaisions and Hank has visited the upper deck. The Braves lost to the Dodgers for the second straight day and I can only quietly grumble and pray that we salvage one with Hudson tomorrow night. I'm sending out Hank here as a reverse hex and now the tables will turn and even the ordinary will seem commonplace when mixed signals escape to rave reviews there's nothing that can be done without bloodshed so we make trouble because, as a race, we're geared for it. This should be read in the voice of Christopher Walken and if you can't get him to come to your place like I can then just imagine it the best that you can, little man (or woman).
I barely snuck in a show from May the 30th, 1971 and I'm listening to it while I type here in my garret in back of Miss Holly's place in Echo Park, just overlooking Chinatown which I claim to be appropriate because this show that's playing was recorded at Winterland thirty five years ago this very night, just a stone's throw from the bigger Chinatown in San Francisco. Wow, that almost seemed connected and I have to commend myself on a job well done for being clever in these difficult times when cunning does not appear on a job application and I can only compare meager assets in the conventional ways and not my big balls which I would like to enter into competition any day of the week but I promise that will probably be the last time I ever make mention of that. I've run out of inspiration but I know a stone to turn. Sweet glory, it comes now as the sirens start to sound along east Sunset Boulevard just at the bottom of the hill from here and now the week kicks into full gear and the helicopters are approaching from the west in the nightly ritual which I traded back for fear in the hills of serial murderers which I just couldn't afford any more. Don't cry for me, though, because I'll find my way back to the paths of the families of hillsides of stranglers in zodiac rivers. It's all a package deal.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

OK, I've looked at this dawg long enough. When are you going to update?

9:04 PM  

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