I’m gone, now.
If I know you, I’ll remember you.

I hope you’ll remember me.

Okay.
Off to work I go. . .

Truckin - by The Dead. . .

Truckin got my chips cashed in.
keep truckin, like the do-dah man
Together, more or less in line,
just keep truckin on. . .

Hang it up and see
what tomorrow brings. . .

- –
Okay,
Father Luke

. . . let’s lighten shit up around here.

- –
Okay,
Father Luke

Near the end of 2006, once again I was able to leave the streets that I live on. I got a job driving truck, and I was able to move back to my home in Santa Cruz California. I drove truck just long enough to be able to crawl from the streets, back into a hotel room in the city I was born, and to the city I have always considered home. I lived here for nearly a year this time, on the money I earned.

I don’t know about the rest of you, but my world has thieves, and thugs running the Government of the country I live in, and I haven’t time to explain. I’m out of money; I am unemployed, and rent is due no matter what anyone’s politics.

My money is gone. It’s just gone.

I think I have a line on a truck driving job. If I am lucky, I will be taken from from the things, and the people that I love. If I am lucky. I will be driving again. And when I go I will be taking some mighty allies with me this time.

I have a sold out book.
I have been published a handful of times by people who have written to me, asking me to send in work. This just doesn’t happen. Not to guys like me. Guys like me wander the streets, talking to themselves, trying hard not to get killed or beaten. Guys like me don’t get published, and sell out their books.
I have a good woman who loves me, and will be waiting for me at home.
I have a friend who wants me to succeed in another line of work, playing poker, and, Dr Zen? When I get back I’ll be picking up where I left off.
I have friends. Courageous fucks who have kicked in the doors of the fat landed gentry, grabbed them by the lapels of their leisure suits, and have breathed softly in their faces: We are here.

So. That’s what I leave behind.
And those are my allies.
I have many friends.
You know who you are. I carry you close to me, here in my heart.

I also have enemies.
You know who you are. I have forgotten you.

As to the rest?
It’s just the rest. I could give a fuck about the rest. . .

See ya when I see ya.

- –
Okay,
Father Luke

I was reading where Governor Schwarzenegger is proposing a one cent tax hike and cutting 20,000 jobs.

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2008/08/04/MN2212523E.DTL

Take people’s jobs, and then tax them higher. I mean, I am no economist by any elastic stretch of the imagination, but what a dip shit.

- –
Okay,
Father Luke

. . . is a place I like to hang out. I mean I like to write. I’m on the internet all the time. So, an online writing community is a place I would go to huh? Right?

I go to Literary Mary all the time.

As is my bent I like to hang out, but remain in the
background.

Want to know more about me?
Want to find a good online community of writers?

Literary Mary Interviews me this month.
I talk about Sex, Drinking, writing, the GPP.
And there are a couple of nifty pictures of me.

Click here: http://literarymary.com/forum/index.php?topic=5218.0

ms vodka did a nice job of showing me off.
I admire her anyway, but this makes me absolutely love her.

Good work, and thanks much.

- –
Okay,
Father Luke