Jake, me and the classy girl, whose name I've long forgotten. I tried to retouch this ruined photo, but decided to publish it as is. These are artifacts of a wonderful time in my life, so I'm grateful to even have these awful shots. (All pics taken from behind the bar by my then girlfriend, the bar tender. Life was good.)

 

Jake (aka MC Jasper Aspen) and some girl whose name I've long forgotten. (Me in the background, headed for the dance floor.)

 

Jake, Jay, me and Angelo (in the DJ booth).

 

Me and Angelo, the "DJ." Late 80s.

 

Me and my buddy Jake, in the late 80s, in a bar that no longer exists, smoking a cigarette, for some reason...

 

From the Weary to the Innocent

The harsh light of sunrise
through the window pours
and melting in it's glory
mystic - battle scared
Does love always surrender?
Or does it sometimes fight?
Or, in fear of being captured,
run screaming through the night?

In dreams, the tears of the lonely
run streaming down my face
Searching for the Only
Washed from place to place
In prayers that are never answered
I only call your name
Pleading, repeating the mantras
Broken, tossed away

The hollow praise and glory
fades into the grey
Just slam the door and close your eyes
and quickly turn the page
I dreamed I was an angel
and I watched for days and days
but, the vision brought me anger
and I shook my fist in rage


(I never thought I'd feel these things
I never thought the day
would come when I'd express myself
in broken down cliches
[The symbols are connecting in a strange, but fluid way])


From the weary to the innocent
whose life is fresh and pure
I offer you no wisdom
I offer you no cure
but, I feel I should leave something
for the journey, sad and long
I offer no salvation
I only have a song.

Letter from an ex

Jimmi,
Never doubt your strengths, for you are the strongest person I know. You hold me every night and it tells me I am yours. If we ever do have problems, the good will always outweigh the bad. I would not change a single thing about you because, you and everything that makes you up are my reasons for loving you. I never thought that there was someone out there that every step they took would take me into a greater care for them. I hope to never see you cry, but if you do, I'll be there for you. I hope to never see you sick, but if it happens, I'll be there for you. I hope you never have to suffer, but if you do, I will be right by your side.
So as I close this, close your eyes and remember I now love without doubt.
J.

From "Peoms (sic)."

I heard this music and, at first, I thought it was Wagner's "Flight of the Valkyrie." Turned out to be the theme from "Dynasty."
Die Nasty.
God, this is strange for me to be scribbling now. I came home, ate and looked for paper and pen.
Sure was hot today. It's still warm at 7:30. I like it, though. Goddamn the cold.

I envy you and your incredible potential. But, in a good way. I'm glad you're on my side. (I wish I could print in italics...) I'm too helter skelter. And, I'm just barely hanging on, you know. I've resigned myself to this fact. It's been that way most of my life. I've accepted it as the best it's gonna get. I'm not being negative, you understand. I'm trying my best to be positive about my fate. Such as it is.

January Morning

"Grabber."
"What?"
"Grabber. My name is Grabber."
"Oh. My name is Jan. Thanks for the ride."
"No prob, Bob...ah, no prob, Jan. Hey, I thought Jan was a girl's name."
"It's either. Mine's short for January."
"January? Jeez, I'd go with Jan, too."
'Where'd you get a name like Grabber?"
"I'm into Grabbers. This here car is a Grabber."
"I thought it was a Maverick."
"Yeah, it is. A Maverick Grabber. It's a special edition. Came with a V8 and cool colors and stripes and stuff. I've rebuilt 3 of'em, but this one's the best. It's a keeper. Check this out."
At this point, Grabber stomps the gas pedal and my head snaps back. In the dark of the night, on this lonely highway, I feel as if I'm flying.
"Hey! Hold onto the wheel!" I say, as he shifts gears - somehow frantically, yet smoothly.
"A man's only got one arm. Hey, you've got 2!"
I hadn't noticed, but my driver is missing his left arm.
"Yeah," I say, "it's a birth defect. I was born with 2. I'm a freak. It hasn't been an easy life..."
He takes this good-naturedly, giving me a look of comic suspicion. I decide to ask.
"So, how did you lose your arm?"
"Wellll, I got really drunk one night and went home with some chick I'd just met. I guess I pooched her and passed out. I woke up early the next morning and looked around to see where I was and...here was this big, fat, ugly chick, asleep, with her big, fat, ugly head on my arm. So, instead of waking her up, I opted to gnaw my arm off and split the scene. You know what I mean?"
Here, he gives me the biggest shit eating grin.
Varoooooooom. Into the night.

Me and George.

 

George.

When I was a kid, things were a lot more rural in my hometown. There were fields of corn and soy beans everywhere.
My dad always planted a huge garden - in which I hated working. Every year he would say that he was thinking of down-sizing this year, but he would always end up planting every available space he could get. (Now-a-days, when I see other people's tiny little garden spots, I feel kind of like Crocodile Dundee: "That's not a garden...") Usually, we ended up with so much stuff we had to give it away. This used to particularly annoy me.
We also always had lots of animals around. Some pets, some livestock. We would have a couple of dogs and about a dozen cats. We had a black and white cat, named "Mama Cat," who had a slumped back and lived to be 17 years old. She produced 2 litters a year. I can still remember her kitten call: "Mert-meow. Mert-meow."
I had turtles, a bunch of rabbits, gold fish, and some pet mice.
And we had chickens, hogs and often, a cow.
It was hard not to get attached to the livestock, when you fed and took care of them every day. Sometimes it was very difficult for me when my dad slaughtered one of them.
Once, dad bought a pig from Mr. Johnny, who lived down the road. Mr. Johnny always had a pack of hound dogs around his house. I remember my mom saying that she didn't know how he could even stand looking at a dog, as he once had a baby that was mauled and killed by dogs. Well, this pig my dad bought was raised with hound dog puppies and thought he was one of them. I remember seeing him running through Mr. Johnny's yard, playing with the puppies. Mr. Johnny had named him George.
It's not a good idea to name an animal that will, eventually, end up on your table.
Even as he grew bigger and bigger, George would still follow me around like a puppy. He was so affectionate. I thought he was the greatest pig ever.
I'm so sorry, George.

The Packing House

When we were kids, we used to hang out at a mysteriously abandoned meat packing plant, down in the middle of the woods, by the river. Construction on this crazy building was supposedly begun around the turn of the last century. Apparently, they ran out of money and just stopped.
There were many stories associated with this place. Several people were rumored to have fallen to their deaths there. It was very dilapidated and scary. Once, Tommy and I found a freshly killed goat there. Its throat had been slashed and the blood had not even congealed - which led us to believe that the goat killers were nearby.
We used to take girls there and give them tours at night. We knew the place like the backs of our hands. There were large holes in the floors where you could fall straight down to the basement - 4 floors. The girls would hold on to you very tightly. That was the idea, I guess.
I once carried the pregnant girlfriend of an Indian dude we knew up to the top floor, where we built a fire and partied. He was too drunk on moonshine to carry her and she was too pregnant to make it on her own.
When I was about 13, me and Floyd, a friend of mine from the 6th and 7th grades, once went up to the top floor and dared each other to walk out to the ends of these 4 foot long beams that stuck out off of the side of the building. They were about a foot wide. The dare was that our toes had to hang off the end and we had to stand there, with our arms held out, for a count of ten. We were over the tops of trees. Next we both stood on the edge, holding on to each other. That was a trust thing. I have a terrible fear of heights. Sometimes, to this day, I will think about that and shiver.
The place was covered in graffiti. My favorite piece read "MARY POPPINS IS A JUNKIE."

 

 

 

Tommy, in the late 70's

 

 

 

Me, in the late 70's

 

 

 

 

The "So What?" dept. presents: BLAB! (1980)

Today is Sunday, March 23. Last night, Russell and I went to The Crest to see Sidewinder. We went in, began drinking and waited for the show to begin. When the band came on and the flash pods went off, Russell looked excited. This wasn't exactly his scene, but he seemed to really enjoy the heavy rock and roll.
At some point, last night, after drinking away most of our money, we saw a girl with straight blonde hair that went down past her ankles. No exaggeration! I told her that she had beautiful hair. I had to say something. It was so unusual.
Russell got bombed and couldn't leave the stairs. I left him sitting there and went and introduced myself to a girl. I sat down at her table and we talked. I then went to the bar and bought us each a beer. I had asked her what she was drinking, but I was pretty drunk (or I wouldn't have gone up to her to begin with) and the music was loud and I brought back the wrong kind. Her name was Debra. A friend of hers came and sat down. Debra introduced us. "Stephanie, this is Jimmi. Jimmi, this is Stephanie."
Debra had sort of short dirty blonde hair and, I think, green eyes. She wore a jean jacket. She had a kind of punky, rock and roll air about her - and it turned me on. Stephanie was more feminine. She had on a nice dress and had long, dark hair. I whispered things to Stephanie like, "Your friend is beautiful!" and she would smile. Then I said, "Oh! And you are, too!" She said "Thank you" - once again smiling, ever so nicely. Then I said, "I love her!" Stephanie laughed and said, "She's a nice girl."

The "So What?" dept. presents: BLAB! (1980)

It's about 4 am, on this 22nd day of March. I haven't been writing much in this "journal" lately because I've been conveying my thoughts and experiences to Katherine in letters. I'm missing her terribly. She means everything to me.
I haven't spoken to D'Arcy. He may be: home / in college / in the army or navy. I haven't the foggiest.
Tonight, or actually this morning, at work, my boss told me he was giving me a raise and I was not to mention it to anyone, because I was the only one getting it. It was a fifty cent raise. I now make $4.50 an hour. Now that Katherine is in the navy and I never see D'Arcy and we have a new car, I have no reason to mess up and miss work.

Yesterday was daddy's birthday. He would have been 59. Mom's is in 6 days.

The night before last, Eddie and I went to see Sidewinder at The Crest. We drank steadily. Some girl came over and asked if she could sit down. We said sure. Her name was Theresa and she was from Washington, NC. During the course of our conversation, Eddie told her we were musicians. She invited us to play at a party, but we declined... Whew! We went outside to smoke a joint and later, when the band started up again, she disappeared into the crowd.

The other day, mom's dog, Lollie, was lying in the driveway, not moving. I called to make sure she was alright. She didn't move a muscle. She looked kind of flat, like she had been run over. I went back into the house, thinking I was going to have to go get a shovel to bury her, but when I came back out, she was gone. I honestly believed that the dog was dead, because I had called her repeatedly and anxiously. The dog wasn't dead. She was just DUMB!

Early this morning, when I stopped at the all night Fast Fare, I pulled my car up to the side of the building. I guess the attendants didn't see me because, when I walked in, a lady, who was down behind the counter, jumped up and sort of gasped an "Oh!," as if I had surprised her. When I walked up to pay for my soda, I noticed a guy down behind the counter, putting things away. Or pretending to...

I think I might call Russell today.