Who the fuck knows what happened on these days.
I was working, and that fucks everything else all to hell.
My legs hurt - see RLS mentioned everywhere else in this Blawg.
I love my iPod. It’s still new to me.
Music, and not much else fills my time.
I still owe a letter to Hosh, to Victor, to Kim, to . . .
Here. Play poker with me. . .
- -
Okay, 
I get email from people all the time.
Funny.
For such a private person, I have always been somewhat of a public figure. It’s always been this way. I never sought it out, and I won’t turn it away.
Whenever I get letters from women, I always take a moment to imagine what I think they might look like…
Who knows what kind of shit bags have me in their sights.
I get them all. They’ll write. Some visit. Often they borrow money. All of them turn right around and call me names. I love my life. Woof !
So. I bought one of these:
It’s a 60 gig iPod, with a black leather case. Fucking rawks, baby! My life again has a sound track . . . ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . . Say it with me:
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH !
Music fucking rules. . .
Love ya.
- -
Okay,
Poker. It’s why I get out of bed.
I finally had two days off, so I played all weekend. Lost some, won some. Laundry happened.
I bought some stuff for my fish tank. It has a new Fluval filter.
Me at the Pet Store:
Hey, man. What’s the best kind of filter?
Kid working at the pet store:
Fluval.
Easy enough. I also bought a plant in a container, a snail, and a vacuum/water changer combo. My big snail is wearing out. I think it will live another week.
- -
Okay,
I worked today. Everything else is a fucking blur.
I know I did something, but who the fuck cares.
I also worked, and that ruined it.
One day I will no longer work Saturdays.
I think begining next Saturday I will see what that’s like.
Here is Lucinda William’s favorite Songwriter.
And one of mine.
Ladies and Gentlemen:
Malcolm Holcombe
- -
Okay,
Been so many people in my life this year; it’s hard to remember them all.
I’ve lost a few also. Friends I’ve had, and who are now gone.
It’s the eternal thing, man: Give -Take - Someone raises, someone calls, someone else busts, another folds.
I’ve been on the phone with Lawyers all week.
I mean, it’s really kind of funny.
Look.
I’ve lived on the streets for nearly thirty years, and now I live inside. Every fucking law firm and their brother have my address, and are trying to sue me. I have a mountain of legal papers that make absolutely no sense what-so-ever to me. I mean, if they sue me, and take everything I have for the rest of my life the absolute most they can get is what?
Look at it this way: I have made only approx 120,000 dollars total in my life working since I was sixteen. I’m 48 now. That’s thirty two years.
Now. Let’s just say I get sued, and they win, and take every penny I will ever make for the rest of my life. Not likely, I know, but let’s just say, because that’s what the threat is, right?
We will take every dime you have
So. Let’s say that happens. For the next thirty two years, according to my past record, they will get less than a hundred thousand dollars. And I don’t plan on working for the next thirty two years.
A lot of fuss.
Meanwhile, back at the Poker tables, Dr Zen and I played a game. PokerStars sent me five bucks for free. I went to a tournament, and blew it all horse shitting around. I had Zenner on the Instant Message, and he was telling me: Bet, Fold, and like that.
Of course I did the exact opposite, and my five dollars went faster than cotton candy melting in the rain. But I made Zenner laugh, and I had some fun.
Lawyers, cards, and money. Ahhh, well, anyway Warren Zevon would have beeen proud of me.
- -
Okay,
A fire is burning in the Santa Cruz Hills. A steady wind is blowing, making containing the fire very difficult.
I’ve lived through arson. And now I’m fat, dumb, playing Poker, and loving life.
It’s true that if you stay in one place long enough the whole world passes by. I’ve been in my body for over forty eight years, and the world continues it’s passing parade.
I went to a closed Premier of Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I didn’t know what Indiana Jones would have to offer after all this time. Indy has plenty to offer, and more. The film was a new moment each ten seconds . . . It officially opens on the 22nd.
Afterwards I went to a luncheon held for the people who worked on the film. And, see, this is where the: if you stay in one place long enough starts to come into play.
Seriously? Who am I? Just a guy. No one. I have no money, obviously. I am not interested in knowing anyone. Yet I have been company to some of the most influential people in the world… writers, Politicians, comedians . . .
I remain, as ever, anonymous. Just as I prefer, and I very much enjoy it.
- -
Okay,
I fucking hate working on Saturdays.
One of these god damned days I will be making my entire income from poker.
Ten bucks an hour, baby, and I’m gone. . .
- -
Okay
I’m on the phone with a Lawyer, right?
I’m checking my email, and dumping the usual assortment of hate mail, love notes, and threats
And I’m playing a Poker Tournament with about four hours sleep.
Now I get to go to work where people think I’m retarded.
- -
Okay,
When I was studying to be a Monk I went to a Church Summer Camp to help out, and I was a Camp Counselor.
Kids are great. They find the weakest kid, and then go to town picking on that fucker until the kid wants to stick their own finger in an electrical socket and end the tyranny once, and for good. It’s great fun to watch.
Well, one of the kids was being picked on, and so went to the Archmandrite. The Head-Cheese of the camp - El Supremo, man…
The other kids are picking on me, the kid said. Sure enough some of the kids who had been picking on the little fucker went to the Archmandrite with the kid to make sure nothing was being said.
The Archmandrite thought about it a while, and said:
You know what? I’ve had this problem at camp before. What usually ends up happening is that the kid being picked on usually isolates the bullies one at a time and then kicks the ever loving shit out of them at a leisurely pace.
I loved that answer. Monks don’t fuck around.
- -
Okay,
