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Drinkers -- frying Dog Ale by the fire, reading a bit of the Curse of Loro, stoned to the gills all barbituated to dull the pain of my terrible spine, and wanderings how long I will live and if I'll ever meet him. When Danny arrived here after my first week alone in his land, I was wearing his F&L The Movie t-shirt Justin gave me and Danny with straight face informed me that "Oh! haven't you heard? He died." The effect on me was profound, most surprising to me. I wanted to smack Dan when I learned he was kidding, but in the several intervening seconds, I really did feel a great sense of loss. How often have I heard over cocktails as places like the Albuquerque Press Club ... for instance, "Yeah, let's hop in the car right now, drive up to Aspen, bang on his gate, yeah!" I loath the idea. I've always loathed being a fly, or perceived ad nothing more than a fly. I was the same with Sheen and family, and the reason I have no evidence, to this day, of damn hear two decades of acquaintance with them. True, it has been years now since I've seen them at all, but once ... I didn't want to be a fly there and I don't now, but damn, Thompson's "alleged death" sure hit me hard. Twacking my right hand fingers on my thigh repeatedly to chase away this awful numbness in them. It make writing difficult and painful. Whatever it is, I vehemently deny any involvement n sail felonious behavior.
Damp! Damp! Damp! Today and I've had about enough David. please get on
a jet immediately and bring me my entitled share of the New Mexico sun
machine. An more rocket launches, of course! We simply must get with the
program, and soon. Hell the one year mark is almost upon us and I ask
you, Dave, Jillanne, what have we accomplished? What have we done to fortify
against this goddamn Muslim terrorist menace? NOTHING! No more running
off to P>A>, tillzanne and no more maybes for you, Dave. We have
to hunker down, build for tolerance to these goddamn ebola cooties, or
whatever the hell those dumbass dirt-kissing, bowing, fly-encrusted terrorist
chemists are cooking up in the mud hut crack house kitchens to all life
as we know it. On that thought I've a question? Why (I've noticed this
trend rampant in America and certain die-hard anti-nazi trailer trash
at posts in remote Germany) Why, I repeat, are only the dumb and the ugly
breeding in this country? Hell, this World?! Naturally, I'm not talking
absoulute's here. (Ooh, that's an interesting misspelled -- ab-soul-utes,
the all-encompassing aspects of the soul!) I'm talking in general. I have
100's of friends and acquaintances in the arts and letters and of that
pool perhaps 3 per cent are breeders. And usually only once. Everyone
outside that group --- ugh. I don't wanna go any further with this grim
speculation. My bullheaded persistence would likely take me tight down
the aisles of every Walmart in America and in my current state of pill-induced
demi-insanity, why I'd probably have an anyerism (sp?). Fingers going
numb again. Be back in a bit. --RSM
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