It's windy, and that's about all I have worth saying

Greetings, mofos! How the heck are all y'all tonight? I am using forced enthusiam. Again, I should be in bed, because Lord knows at my age, I haven't had a good night's sleep since my 30s. However, I am restless right now, and I am just avoiding having to go outside and secure all the shit in my yard. The wind is wicked, and I can hear these two garbage cans at the side of my house rolling around, and the door to the storage thing under the deck banging in the wind, and it will keep the neighbors up, so I guess I should go deal with it all. However, it's raining and windy and I am in my underwear, and so I don't want to do it until right before bed, so I can just hop into a warm bed. We didn't get the storm like the rest of the province had - I guess it's pretty horrible everywhere else, so I shouldn't complain.

Other than the wind, I have nothing to say. I was going to go back and reread old posts tonight. I never have done that - why, I don't know, being as self-involved as I am, but I think I would cringe at anything I wrote. However, I got to thinking that I'd like to see what they are like. I was having a discussion with my neighbor Bardot the other week, and she loves Chelsea Handler and Burroughs and Sedaris too, and she was the one who said Chelsea had a new book. And then she said "you know, I've seen her show and she isn't funny" and I said I saw her on the View and she wasn't funny, and that led to a discussion about how some people are funny in writing and not funny in person and the opposite was true for Ellen and Seinfeld, who had those books that sucked diseased monkey shit, but who were good at standup, and then she said 'you know, if you wrote a book, it would be fucking hillarious" and I wanted to blurt out "I've got 5 years of a blog you can read" but of course, I could never do that, because I don't want anyone other than the 4 of you peeps knowing who I am. But anyway, I was thinking I should look and see what the old shit looked like, but as I said, I hate reading my writing. But then I got to thinking about someone who I can't fucking stand who just wrote a book (I didn't check the publisher, but it's probably some vanity press) and I thought "if that fucking old pervert got something in print, I should be able to". He really is a fucked up pervert, so I'm not just making shit up. Anyway, whatever.

I was reading my map books and my CAA books again tonight. Tell me people, if you would be a 5 hour drive from San Francisco, would you make a detour to go there? What about if you have 4 kids, which meant you wouldn't be strolling down Haight, dropping acid in memory of Garcia? Really, I would want to see is the bridge, and then I'd head south to Monterey, but anyway, have you been there, or would you go, if you had a gaggle of kids? Let me know.

As you can tell, I am restless. I just want to hit the road - a prisoner of the white lines of the free-free-freeway.....

Back to Chelsea - I haven't really gotten into her book yet. I've only read the first two essays. I am trying to read it slowly. I am also reading a book about ex-Mormons who decided to leave the church. I have no idea why, but i have this weird obsession with Mormons. Anyway, I soak up everything Mormon I can - I think their beliefs are ultimately whacked, but I just love to read about them and especially about those who left. There was a great PBS special this week, called The Mormons - it was like pornography for this old fart, since it was full of history and disgruntled ex-Mormons. And, ever since we went to Utah, it's even more of an obsession, because it was just such a weird thing to see, Mormons all over the fucking place. And you know me, rebel without a cause, who was sucking back coffee and Coke all over the place, just subconsiously screaming "look at me, I'm sooo bad.... ooooh yeah, baby, I'm the fucking FONZ!" Perhaps I need a life.

I've got to go to work tomorrow for a few minutes, to make sure something goes smoothly. That means I have to be up and out the door by 8:30. That sucks. But whatever.

I've got "Ride Like the Wind" by Christopher Cross going through my head tonight. I will always have a special place in heart for that self-titled album of his. I remember it like yesterday - it was late September, 1980 - I was living in the lower mainland in B.C. My sister was getting married in October, and my mother and sisters were off at her wedding shower, and my dad and I were alone on a Friday night. For some reason, we went to Woolworth's, and I remember going up to my Dad and asking if he'd buy me a record for 6.97. Of course, he sighed and swore and then said yes, so there wasn't complete joy with buying the record, because there was just enough guilt in the whole thing to not make me pee my pants in happiness - I always got so excited getting a new record. Anyway, I remember paying for it, and taking it home that rainy, cold night, and then going to my room, which was adorned with religious posters (this was my born again period) and my Val Bertinelli pix, and putting the record on my Kenmore stereo and listening to Sailing first (track 3, side one) and then going to Ride like the wind (track one) and then going to eat chips and Nally's BBQ dip with my dad in the rumpus room, and watching tv - I wanna say Bosom Buddies, but I don't think that was a Friday show, so i don't know now. Anyway, it's a memory that isn't significant, but I like thinking about it. Especially now that my dad is pretty much gone. He mostly doesn't know our names, and he talks nonsense, and most days I am completely immune to it, I think because I mourned him the same time I mourned mom, because it was all at once, but sometimes, like tonight, I just swallow the lump in my throat repeatedly whenever I think of him, because he was such a smart man, and a funny man, and a kind little worry-wart, and just screamed integrity. So yeah, nothing like a windy, rainy, dark, B.C. - like night to set your heart remembering and aching a little. What a cruel fucking disease this Alzheimer's is....

Ugh, my tummy feels a little gross right now. My wife has felt gross all evening - good Lord, I hope it's not another flu attacking us. Or I hope I didn't poison us at supper... LOL, wouldnt that be a kicker - the germophile giving everyone e-coli? Or, maybe we are just tired. It's been a long week.

Spoiler alert - how about Survivor?! Man, they should have kept Coach and got rid of that anorexic bitch! And how about the preview for next week, where they talk about giving the Idol to Russel???? I love it! Idiots, all of them!

Anyway, I am going to run now - I need to secure the yard, and I may watch 1/2 an hour of Play Misty for Me - I pvr'ed it a few months ago, and I haven't seen it for years, but I love that movie.

Anyway, over and out, good buddies....