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[thanks, blessings and eternal gratitude to the Great Swami Bruce, who graciously, blessedly and thankfully saved July's web master from certain melt-down by transcribing this and the following 3 installments of Rick's jiggly adventures]
A strange day/ Strange workin. Dan still in bed when I left and cut a path through the forest to Watson Pond. I've been call this new body of wter where I daily swim and form which I've been drinkin, unfiltered, for weeks in lake. But now I know its name. Awoke today groggy as hell from all the codine but thankful that at best the thooth is out. So why the haze? I dunno. Last night's dreams perhaps. Dremt t6hat Dan and I has a big fight and awoke with that unsettling sense of insecurity that surrounds every potential reality shift. Now my right hand, my writing hand, is going knmb again. Must have that looked at. Tooth number 31, the dentist said. And the tool that he used to extract the afffecting tooht from my jawweas the exact match of an zandive on Dan brought me, umf, a day late, the morning after which in a piwue of pzill and determination to end us said pah, I had launched an allpout assault with various pliers, a crescent wrench, a 16 penny nail, and a hammer yet failed to get is out myself. A hundred dollars lighter in pocket I walked out of the Maine dentist's office shaking my half numb head at the irony. The package arrived via General Delivery today from one Gary Thorenson, or some such gibberish pseudonym of my good goodies package man out west. See I turned him on to the pleasures of K (Stevie Nick' drug of choise), and he turned my on to the joys of snorting children's ritalin, and then I imported my knowledge of a few other drug "secrets" and he, down the road whilst U was in Heaven and decidedly AGAINST a world w/o Klonipin after 3 months kicked up a whole can of REALITY worms ... well he came to the rescue with a handfull of K's. It was kind and also warranted given that one of my empty scrip bottles was the key that unlocked the medicine chest for him via a south-of-the-border refill run. The 10x16 foot deck I build Dan is now pea green aa an old army sock. Dan's choice. Gotta love it. Despite the presense of two erect tente, the huge flat deck, and newly rennovated interrior in the trailier, Dan tosses and sruns in the slanted sleep of his minivan parked on the uphill grade of hi dirt driveway. My new friends Mary and Ben (her husband) in Houston were pivital figures
in helping me maintain flows and perspective driving my hellish Duke engine
transplant last April/May. Mary has been sending me letters from Duke
igniting a truely hilarious correspondance between my car and I. Duke
is seems, is much more @ home in the humid Houston sumer than I, and is
in fact lioving it down there swappin tranny fluids with a different gir
art car every night. Now Mary wants to do a "Rolling Stone-esque"
interview w/celebrity Duke, and who am I to argue? GOIVII, as an old frind's
license plate read (think Roman numerals). Of course, said friend recently
climbed inside his volvom shut all doors and windows and struck a match
in a pool of gasoline, sending he and the Volvo rocketing thru the Pearly
Gates @ 10.21 Gigawatts of combustible conviction, (intensionally, it
is assumed). Now that's what I call going IV it - RSM
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