diary

I could stop if I would…

Well I’ve added a few new writers to the roster, I’m sure you’ll be seeing some of their work pop up here pretty soon. With traffic going steadily up to ridiculous levels, I reckon the more writers we have on staff, the more the likelihood of having something fresh on the top of the blog list. We’ll see what happens. You can check out their profiles on the writers page.

This weekend Roger and I went out on the boat for a few hours with his lovely fiancee and a buddy of his, and his CopperHound, Spud. Being out in the sun and feeling rather good, I began to imbibe the thick heady golden liquid I love so well. We were anchored and tied up to another boat in the party cove, and I was in the water with my feet between the arms of a life vest, just floating there, throwing the football with a group of guys I’d never met.

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SpaceBurned

Well after a busy ass weekend such as this last one, I'm about ready to collapse. Thursday night: I was off Friday, so Thursday became a perfectly legitimate drinking night. Went to Pop's house, swam, drank. Friday night - went to watch H24's girls play volleyball. Went out with Ashley, Tami, Tracy, Harmon and Kyle to Sneaky Pete's afterwards. And drank. You know what's great about the morning after eating a pile of nachos with about eighty jalapenos on them? Nothing. Saturday, Stout and I went swimming, threw darts, drank beer. Sunday during the day, we went to a water park. I'm redder than an angry Indian in a blood bath. And last night, being the Cowboy game, Jason and I sat at my bar and watched every play. And drank. I'm just about ready for a little break from the drinking. I think I'll take off from it for…

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The Amazing Squirrel Incident

Gah, what a weird night. I left my Pop’s house the other night just before dark, and as I was crossing the railroad tracks, I saw a car parked in the gravel by the road with two women standing outside of it. One was on a cell phone, and they looked distressed. I made the ‘ok’ motion with my hand and the one not attached to the phone shrugged and pointed down to the ditch. She didn’t wave me on, so I pulled in to check up on them.

I get out and say, “Can I help you ladies?” The other hung up and turned to me. “There’s a squirrel laying over there in the grass. I think he’s injured real bad.” Oh. I see. Good thing I pulled over for you. Sigh.

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Another Run-In With Aria

As most of you probably remember, I had somewhat of a “run-in” with a fairly well known lady a couple of years ago at a movie expo. It was a pretty rad experience for me, since I’ve considered myself somewhat of a fan of hers. Ever since that video where she used the baby oil she’s been pretty close to the top of my list.

Anyway, I think it’s worth mentioning that I ran into her again, though this time it wasn’t such a collision as just a “seeing her in public” episode. But wait – let me back up a little. I first ‘ran into her’ in March or April of 2005. Then I saw her again at an adult expo of some sort where a buddy and I went just to see her. We heard she’d be in town, blah blah blah, went and said hi and got a snap with her. Didn’t really have time to talk. But this was about three weeks after the first time I met her.

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Why I’m So Cynical

Well, I don’t really know why. But I can share with you a few examples of how I’m cynical.

A friend an I were talking about looking at the stars, and I made a joke about it not mattering if there are clouds or not, because the telescope sort of puts you out past the clouds. You’re looking at stuff much further away than the clouds, you see.

I know, it’s a rolleyes for me too. But you’d be surprised at how many people won’t laugh at that joke. But rather say, “Uh, what’s the joke, Spacey?”

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The Secret to Success

Space & KineticIt was nice having Kimbre in town for a day – even though she had almost nothing positive to say about our fair city. I only got to see her for a few hours, though I’m betting she was at it for most of the duration of her stay – stopping only to sleep. I’m sure I’d notice a stink too, were I to leave for a time and return. But I’m also betting that I’d sneeze my ass off in ‘fresh mountain air’. Because where there are mountains, there are pines. And where there are pines, there are pine needles that make me sneeze like an angry Indian.

Speaking of Indians, I think I’ve finally found the way to make a shit load of money, expending as little energy as possible. It’s pretty simple, really. But let me first outline the other ideas I’ve had before. First of all, you want a business that doesn’t require disposable stock, like cups and hot dog canoes, because you have to order that shit. And our goal here is to do as little as possible, and make as much money as possible. Remember? Okay. So the first idea I had was a bowling alley. You buy all the balls and pins and equipment and people come use it. None of it really goes away, and you just pay for maintenance and upkeep. All you do is spray shoes while you sit on your ass.

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The Mystery of the Keys

I have a keybox mounted in the wall in my secret room. Yes, I built a secret room in my house, because during one of my many excursions into the attic, I noticed an area that didn’t have a ceiling, and there was a bunch of wasted space. So I built it in, utilizing it for something cool. There’s nothing big in there, just my guns and some dirty magazines. You know, the usual. And my keybox. Now this is an American Security Company keybox, mounted between the studs, in my secret room. I have a buddy who works for ASC, so I get a pretty fair discount on their fine products. This keybox is stronger than – well, stronger than something pretty strong. You couldn’t pry it open with a crowbar and a sledgehammer, unless you wanted to.

Anyway, it’s mounted with the lock side right up against a brick wall, so there’s no room to pry it anyway. My point in all this is that you can’t get into that son of a bitch unless you have some dynamite and just a stupid desire to get at my keys. You know, it’d be easier to just steal my car. You know, without the key. Okay, so I’ve told you about the keybox.

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Wrestlemania!

I went to my first wrestling match Saturday night! Well, that is to say I went to see a match for the first time. I didn’t participate in one. I’m not a wrestler. I mean – I wrestle with my four sisters and whatnot, but that’s not the point.

I live next door to this guy. We spend a lot of time sitting in his garage or by his pool, drinking and shooting the shoot. I’ve been wanting to go see him wrestle for a while, but our nights usually end up canceling out, as my band is usually playing somewhere. But I finally got to go check it out. I have to go through the entire night with you so you’ll get a feel of the atmosphere.

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I’m just a cracker.

I have a friend named Keith who likes to use the word “nigger” a lot. Maybe it’s because he’s black, maybe not. I don’t like to associate behaviors with colors. But a few months after we met and started hanging out, he began insisting that I call him nigger. Not like every time I talk to him. But he wanted me to be comfortable saying that to him. Why?

We stood in the hall one day for several minutes while he tried to talk me into saying the word. I had been talking about this black client of ours who was an asshole, and I said something like, “I can’t stand that big dumb…” and I didn’t finish the sentence. The joke was that I was saying it to Keith to see if he’d catch what I was throwing. And he did, and he called me out on it. He said, “Go ahead, say it.” I shook my head. No, I don’t want to say it, because I don’t really feel that way.

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What, no San Diego Chronicles?

I’ve been in San Diego all week, but haven’t really been inspired to write anything about it. I have been writing like crazy – don’t get me wrong… Just not about this fair city. Or its glorious sleek-bodied women with their midriffs showing and their ample bosoms bouncing as they walk, cell phones attached to their ears, ponytails streaming behind them like banners in a sex mag. I’ve been writing, instead, on my third novel. In the last four days I’ve written almost twenty pages, which – doing the quick math – translates to about twelve thousand words. Good wow.

I’m really liking where it’s going, and though I never get too much in the way of comments from my fantastic readers on my excerpts, I’ve decided to post a bit of this one. This isn’t a terribly important part of the book, it’s just the last few paragraphs I’ve written tonight. So here it is, an official excerpt from Shedding Sadness, my third novel:

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