My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

Well, Lyle, you told us so. Here’s a startup that is allowing people to create music from remote locations. Happening in a garage down the street from Donny Lawn.

I love the Disney one. Something tells me they no longer have a tobacco shop.

There was a dumpster in front of a house and so I stopped, with Will, and we loaded up a bunch of stuff. It is a truly joyful experience to take something out of the garbage. Even if I’ll put it back in the garbage tomorrow, for a moment there I believed. Believed a prayer had been answered. Believed I’d found what I needed. The search was over. The craziest thing was how nice the people were who were throwing the stuff out. The son, Aaron, made the mirrored carousel pony. He had some antique electric tools – old single speed drills, a giant chrome-cased jig saw, the kind of tools a workshop from the Eisenhower administration might be outfitted with.

The funnest thing was a big old Leslie speaker cabinet. It didn’t work, but the parts were there. Those cabinets sell for over a grand in working order, so I need to find someone to give me fifty bucks for this old broken one. Here’s a wiki link to them if you don’t know what they look like. (no great pictures there, actually. It’s a huge wooden cabinet.)

I was thinking, as I stood in the dumpster, I ought to advertise. The man paid $350 bucks for this dumpster, and I would have hauled most of it away for free. So, maybe I can get people to Yelp! me. Can an individual be on Yelp!? I don’t want to be a business, just a man. Friends, enemies, my student dentist, they could all write reviews.

Let’s work on this. In the morning.

photo posted from my iPhone

Will bought a half stack but he’s going to SXSW so those two won’t be there this wednesday. But Collin and Doug and Nick will be there. You’ll see me get excited to be in a band and lose track of where I am in the song. Come if you can.

My 1992 GMC graffiti magnet

I’m not against the youth, but I’m no longer with them. Perhaps sitting “in the buck” as my housemate just said, as I blog, is an attempt to reach back to those carefree nude days. I hope it’s not awkward for you to find me blogging at 2:30 a.m. without so much on as lint between my toes. My roommate was nonplussed. Because this is an organic household. If only you could smell it. The trash can by the computer smells like a compost bin.

Blogging or jogging, doesn’t matter. Done naked, it feels comfortable. If not “young”, then carefree. Where is this all going? Some idiot children tagged my truck pretty good. Would this happen in a nudist colony? I think not. There is something about competition that clothing breeds that also leads to tagging. The inadequate creatures of “FN”, a crew of taggers, need to feel they’ve gotten over on someone. They want to compete because so often they’ve lost. So they compete against a sleeping truck driver. An inanimate building. A defenseless fence. A few squad cars are the referees.

I’m staying up late tonite, without any clothes on, and watching my truck from the window. If I see them coming, I’m waving my dong.

I was starting to feel like I was performing subsistence hauling lately. Getting out of bed was hard because there didn’t feel like there was any reason to bother. Makes no sense, I know. I should be happy I don’t have to work. Because there’s always work that can be done. Look at this guy, hauling a stolen grocery cart alongside his bicycle. If he’s working, I can be working. But today I’m gonna play. I’m going to weed the garden maybe, or draw a picture and put it on the fridge. Maybe I’ll go to the beach and throw rocks at a seagull. There’re a lotta things to be happy about. Let’s not lose sight, people! Good times are here!

photo posted from my iPhone

Not to say I made any money today, but I was busy. Saw a showdown between Ford and Chevy, loaded the truck with dumpster finds, helped my friends style a photoshoot, moved an electric organ up a long flight of stairs and jeezus, can I lay down and make love to my girlfriend now?

photo posted from my iPhone

stole Rusty Sunshine’s best layer

Have you been hanging around non-whites lately? They love to call you racist, if they are anything like the non-whites I know. Maybe it’s because you say racist things. Or maybe it’s because they know it freaks you out.

Anyone can be racist, but calling a white person racist means something altogether different than calling a Vietnamese person racist. How? I’m not exactly sure. Any white people out there know what I’m saying? Let me take a stab at this. People call me racist for making a joke, which isn’t racist, but might involve someone of a race other than mine. They do it to be funny, because they know a non racist white person will be very sensitive to the charge. We get that deer-in-the-headlights look and start tripping over ourselves trying to apologize. That cracks other ethnicities up.

It has also become a term synonymous with “dumb-ass” or even “shit-head”, as in “That racist threw out my lunch.” Not because throwing out your lunch was racially motivated, just because it was ignorant to not realize you weren’t done with strange bone thing you were eating. (Ha!)

But they – (those who aren’t white, like, really white. Like the cliffs of Dover.) – they will use it abusively any chance they get. Maybe you ask a guy from India if he knows anything about Indian food. You get labeled racist. I can’t ask a dumb question about a culture I don’t know about without it becoming racist.

Excuse me? Do you know what racist means? Do you know what you are implying? Racist is someone who thinks their race is superior. In this case it calls up thoughts of Germans exterminating Jews, because that’s what white racists are racistly accused of. I’m confused too. I think I mean, maybe White supremists aren’t out to exterminate everyone but Aryans. Maybe they just think they are better. Like some people think Fords are better than Chevys. No one is getting killed over that are they? So give a White Supremacist the benefit of the doubt next time. He might not be a Nazi. You’re jumping to conclusions.

Then again, racism isn’t always about thinking your race is superior. It’s also those of us who make sweeping generalizations about other races. Like, “White people are all…salad eaters.” Or “white men can’t jump.” That kind of stuff. Maybe it’s your uncle who says, “Don’t let Italians work on your car.”

That might be the difference I was looking for. When an African American man on the bus calls me a racist, I know he isn’t talking about my advice not to trust Italian mechanics. He is talking about me being the virulent vicious kind of racist. He’s talking about white racists. The really evil racists.

I guess that’s all I was trying to pin down. Why, to me, calling a white person racist seems more powerful than using the same word on a non-white. I guess it’s because the dumb shit white people pulled in the past. The sins of a generation are passed down. If not biblically or genetically, certainly in the epithets chucked at the children.

Was this helpful?

would you expect anything less at the bead store?

There’s a bead shop down in the scuzzy part of town where rent is cheap and landlords are absent. Two floors of beads and sequins. It was such a strange place – horror movie posters on the wall alongside bead displays, and four vintage pinball machines in the center of one room. The woman behind the counter gave me four quarters to play for free. It was like a psychedelic Mardi gras float with Ike and Tina battle of the banding Navajo drummers. There were a lot of beads.

photo posted from my iPhone

Future Spa? That was the vehicle for a pinball machine? In the future we will do curls with bands of electricity? Jog with giant clocks on our wrists? How long must I wait?

I let the guy who sells tires in the newspaper play dress up. I gave him a little something from the grocery store circular to help him cope.

The following is a response to medical marijuana brownies

Swaan: I thought they were fucking insane. It felt like something was inside trying to push itself out. I was scared a lot.

Dave: It felt much further away than how short it was.

Ravi: They should be illegal. They were so potent. Come on… there was no medical benefit to what happened yesterday.

Me: Don’t you think there’s social value? A spiritual value?

Ravi: I only feel the spiritual value when I come off it and I’m thankful I’m still alive.

Kathleen: They’re probably for people who are unemployed because i don’t think you could do any work. They were really the delicious biggest gooiest dessert ever so it was really hard not to eat a lot. When it hit it hit really hard, but in a good way. I wasn’t scared, I could walk around…laughing my head off, it slowed time down. We kept walking away from a gate but it never got farther away.

Mattie: They should have tested them on laboratory animals before they sold them to us.

photo posted from my iPhone
Went to Mugu state park today, saw crazy limbed sycamore trees shading a twisting river and talked with three guys living in a mid ’70′s Winnebago boiling chicken in a pot and heating beans in a can over the state park campfire.

What ten years ago would have been two ships passing in the night now needs no end. I have their myspace address. Ashes to Light. They’ve been traveling for six months in a rickety old camper. They’d spent six weeks at an animal shelter. Not as animals, but helping out abandoned pets from both Katrina and Ike. These were some decent dudes. Maybe they’ll pull through SF and we’ll meet again. Who knows?

photo posted from my iPhone

photo posted from my iPhone
That’s a bag of medical marijuana brownies and I’m in LA. It feels good.