okay okay okay i'm up already

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Black triangles are crashing in hyperspace and it woke me up at the stroke of nine. I took this picture of my most befuddled first moments out of bed to prove to you I have no vanity whatsoever [Nope. The camera in this laptop is at least as awful as the one on my Mac at home and I couldn't take it after I got this puppy in from the sunlight, where I couldn't see the full extent of the color catastrophes… so I do have some vanity after all. The plain truth is bad enough without the help of these chintzy cameras.] — resting up from being savaged by the homicidal sequela of population density. The fucks. They're oblivious, and they've captured some of the people closest to me in recorded history!

Dial 911.

Plus, turns out another of my closest friends has a penchant for deplorable music. I suppose he finally confessed this to me because he now knows he's one of my closest friends, has been in the dark about that for years.

But, the most pressing communication is that I'm safely back in Mendo World where I am utterly safe even at the most dangerous moments. My home turf. Okay, yer bucking about the vastness of my turf, my property, which spans from the Golden Gate Bridge north to the Oregon border, but I have made it much thinner and now pretty much just hugging the coast. I've abandoned the inland regions to the homicidal maniacs, and declared a couple spots on the Sonoma Coast free zones for that homicidal public.

Yesterday I employed my fantastical memory to get from high in the Berkeley Hills to here in the peaceful precincts just north of Fort Bragg, where the dog from hell once held my space for me. Harley has passed on to his reward, back in Satan's lap, as it were, and, being his treasured but mostly distant alpha, I mourn his loss. Nobody here to yap happily upon my arrival. Nobody avidly describing in doggie that he has held our ground faithfully all this time. I miss the little pinhead's splendid catastrophes, but I have to say that getting up to the silence broken only by little birdsong and no thumping and wiggling anticipation of our day together was fairly pleasant. Sorry Harley. I love you.

Anyway, this defective memory of mine has recently been thrown up in the air and left to drop willy-nilly all over the place and, against type, I've just let the chips fall where they may, and used roads I have not been on in fifty years or more, and others only thirty years, and still others only ten or five years, but I only had to deal with the worst of the worst for a very short time. I was Jackie Chan motorist to the max and I skunked those killers but good.

So you can say I'm this out of it today from the transcendental successful effort to elude the zombie hit men of the greater Northern California metropole. One only ever had to resort to this in Southern California for all history, and I still care, but things have changed. I'm contemplating amassing troops at the southern border of Mendo World. We will have to cede them Marin and Sonoma. I just can't figure a way around that part, but the plan is to keep 101 itself, and let them have everything east of it. Just plain militarily prevent them from getting into New Nineslandia by any wiles whatsoever… in perpetuity.


always and any time....