Why do I keep fuckin' up?

Yeah. Been wondering that myself.

Click down on that second YouTube video in the post below.

Dream in colors, dream in red.

I felt like writing some more. It's weird. You stop for a while, write once a week, take some pictures, blah. It gets boring. Yet, through some exhibitionist urge... I scribble my thoughts on a pad because I am leaving on a jetplane (or, honestly, maybe not) like I owe you something.

The only thing I owe, and owe is the wrong Word, is my mom.

I owe my Mom a Happy Mother's Day.

Because she is about the best damn mom you have ever seen.

Really.

Everybody who meets her agrees. She did a bang-up job.

Kris? Tony? Chris?

Anybody who spent the night in our basement.

Hmmmm. Birsch spit up a Wet Bunny, someone was Evil, the die was cast.

Hey K-Top.

(In any case... Mom. Happy Mother's Day. I love you.)

If tragedy befalls you, well, don't let it drag you down.

Love can kill your problems.

None of it matters.

Life is what you make of it, and even then, it can be short.

It can also be swift, glorious, bitter or brutal.

But remember the "short" thing.

Love hard, do good, see some things, learn to play an instrument, ride a wave, rip the tide, try skateboarding, ride a bike, start a fire, embrace a thunderstorm... because...

People drop dead every day. Good people, for no reason. Kids, even. Fate doesn't care. It just makes you turn your eyes skyward and wonder why.

Make a choice.

Adios, pendejos.

Let my love open the door

A couple of covers of some good tunes.



I can't wait to see them close out three days of music at Lollapalooza in August.



(^^That one is a Neil Young song.)

If you get a chance, go see them live. They are phenomenal in concert. They reserve the best seats at each show for their fan club. I have seen them six times, and only once have I been farther out than row 20.

Rock and roll. Rock and roll.

The weekend is here.

Thursday, you sultry temptress. You wear the red dress, slit up the side, hinting at what could be. A sideways glance, a cocked eyebrow. You are the one. The one day that pulls you in for a passionate kiss, then slaps you across the face.

Yes, Thursday.

The world is at your feet, laid out before you. Endless possibilities.

You can be anything you want. You can do anything you want. Go there. Do it.

Don't wait.

We're supposed to be just fine. But it's okay if we're not. Just go back to where we began and begin again.

You can do it.

You can do it.

You can do it.

There's an open road and a friend.

Stare into the sun until you are blind. Destroy every thought in your mind.

What you say counts.

I take pride as the king of illiteratureI'm very ape and very nice

Let me see...

Stringing up my Martin backpacker guitar to take along on the trip.


My nearly brand-new digital camera's display shit the bed immediately after taking the pictures in the last post. That could be a new record. I used it twice in ten days before it broke. So, I have to find a replacement to take on the trip. Stanette has a freebie, so I will swap out the memory cards and buy some batteries.

I have five books lined up to take- the new Hiassen book, the new Palahniuk book, and old Palahniuk book, an Augusten Burroughs book, a book called "Easy in the Islands."

I will probably finish the Hiassen book before I go. His books go down like cotton candy.

We're staying in a little hut right on the water. It is inaccessible by road, so we will take about an hour boat ride from Puerto Vallarta (every time I hear "Puerto Vallarta," unbidden thoughts of the Love Boat enter my head) to get there. There are a few restaurants, a river, a beach, a waterfall, some jungle and not much else.

I don't imagine it will be a very stressful trip.