What?

What do you do with so many memories? I was there and saw it. What you are doing now is nothing but a sad copy of what was then. It mattered, this doesn't. Anyone can copy, who will create?

Plastic pop recycled crap with a fake dangerous edge.....

Just Tired Now.....

Still trying to get moved from the old to the new place. 90% is done, with the garage stufff left to go. I am bummed to find many, many things destroyed by the rats I fought off. Some clothing I had stored became a massive nest, brand new carpet for my truck is destroyed by chewing and urination. A huge amount of 80's rock music magazines are also destroyed. I can only guess what I could hav gotten for them on ebay.

I still have to move the huge rack of lp records, which I can't do during the day. I have move 99.8 percent of the this crap by myself, and am too exhausted to are about anything else at all right now. I need a month of sleep when I finish....but there may be a body shop class in a few weeks that I could complete my truck in. Damn...oh well. We will see.

Moving and Profoundly Sad

It came as a surprise. A small house nearby went vacant, and the rent is close to what we pay now, so we signed the papers today to move in to it.

I started moving things a load at a time. It was too hot. I find myself profoundly sad to the core. For my apartment...

I havelived here for like 15 years, god knows how that happened. I was a destroyed wreck when I moved in and it was supposed to be a short stay until I got on my feet. I was in my 30's and now I am in my 40's. I realized today that for th termites, the broken everything, the floods, the bug infestations...the crazed weirdo neighbors...whatever....this has been my home longer than any other building I have ever lived in.

Its grown too small for even myself. I can't get anything done bcause of it. I sit paralilyzed for hours as a result. But still, it was my place to go hide.I lived here when my dreams of music died. I lived here when I stabbed at wiriting novels and fell hort of my own standards. I lived here when I wanted to die. I lived here when my mother did die. I lived here from when my little car Evie was new, until she was falling apart at nearly 300,000 miles. I lived here through many,many very bad times, and some good ones.I have rebuilt a number of engines, fixed friends cars, gone round and round upon my own and even completley restored my Jeep while here. I amglad I haven't sold the Jeep...I need that peice of the past to have a future.

None of the troubles were the fault of this modest little apartment. Things happened here I guess. Its going to be so strange to come "home" to another place, and still be able to see my apartment. It will be so weird to live in a house. I haven't lived in one since 1979.

I will miss the stream out back that calmed me, and also flooded the apartment. I won'tmiss the fucking annoying neighbors dogs that bark if I get up at night and go to the bathroom. I won't miss the asshole high schoolers playing hokey out back.

I will miss my apartment, quite badly it seems. I should be moving more stuff out, but instead I will go to bed.The Girl is at work tonight, so its one last night so very alone, as so many I spent here...in my apartment.

Like Tom Petty Once Said.....

....The waiting is the hardest part!

My bicycle still isn't here! O.K.,maybe I am nitpicking, but two weeks after May 24 should be now,not the definition I got today of yet another week. Went out for amazing Japanese BBQ you cook yourself on an in-table grill and then dropped in on the store the bike was ordered from. It's an outdoor place I have known about for years and years, that only recently built a store near enough to me to check out.


I have to say that half the employees are pretty cool, and half are fucking flakes. They appear to be spoiled college kids with no clue thinking they are somehow saving the world by working there. When we ordered the bike to get the correct frame size, the woman who got the numbers was spot on. The one who rang it up wasn't.

The ringer took our new club member information and put it into the computer. This was supposed to rack up credit on yearly purchases, so a 600 dollar bike certainly needs to be attached to this. She kept trying to look up my name, even though we had never been there before. Then, sh pulled up a "Ralph" who sharedmy last name and wrote up the ticket under his name, somehow getting my correct address on it all. I let it slide until the next day and went back in to correct it.No one knew how, and I was told it would be fine, and could be corrected when the bike arrived.

Still no call on the bike, which was at the most two weeks out.

Our trip today we found the order had, in addition, reversed the first and last names (including the incorrect first name...) The woman today didn't tell us all would be ok, she walked us to a special phone, got on the horn and got the order corrected in the system. The first bill was refunded and it was recharged, and all was then properly tied back to my club account card thingie. She found a picking ticket had been generated at their distribution center, and gave an educated guess it might mack it Monday

Damn! Someone old enough and caring enough to do their job! She was cool.

I just wish the bike was here. Until then, I hav been surfing to find information on building a carbon fiber recumbent frame for a road bike. Bents are cool, my old roadie is long since dead when a wasted frame (though I did find a manufactuer nearby with 100 surplus frames for less than 300 bucks a peice!...So I might rebuild it around a new frame). I want a bent that looks cool and costs me less than half of what flyinglessons go for.

I need to pedal!

Dog Beachs Rule!

So Max got to go to the dog beach in San Diego a few weeks ago. He is really shy and unsure around other dogs, as he was a stray for part of his life. He is fearful of other dogs approaching him, and that happens alot at the beach! By the endof the first day he had stopped nipping when cared, realizing that most were just there to say hello.

He also walked in the water, and I carefully held his harnes to see how he was with swimming. he seemed unhappy about the whole deal, but wagged his tail after each dip. He reacted weird to playing with his ball, running to it, picking it up in the sand...and dropping it while staring at it. He wouldn't bring it back!

Yesterday we made another trip down to the beach. He got way xcited when we asked if he wanted to go to the beach. he actually seems to have a very good vocabulary.He also seemed to know where we were at around a mile from the beach and got way excited. Perhaps it was the salt in the air?

Anyway, he was much more open to other dogs, and at one point he wandered off with another family group of dogs bfore realizing WE were calling him. That's right, he made it off the leash with no problems. He LOVED playing ball, and not so much me getting him to swim. At one point, I carried him out about 50 yards and let him swim back to shore.He seemed ok with it, so I began throwing his ball into the water, and then deper and deeper water. In the end, he hadno fear of dashing out, walking in the water....and then actually swimming out to get his ball and swim back with it!

Max freaking RULES! He was SO tired all the way home, and still today. I suspect we will get all that holiday weight worked off him at this rate, he looks happier for it all.

Max is such a good fellow, the idiots that abandoned him and abused him in his past should be beaten for hurting this little guy. I am glad he is OUR dog now. Now all we need is a house with a yard for him to run in.


and...the bike the Girl bought me isn't here yet, but should be any day. Back to WHEELS for me! Let's see Max keep up with THAT.