speakeasy

met up with ol Kelly McGee and we played dress up. she brought me to a club with some good rock. then to an afterparty at a speakeasy. some music and vodka. no leopards were killed in the making of the pictures.




here's a comparison of Alabama's feet with Kelly's.



Kelly, upon learning that her mental disability stipend had been canceled due to "excessive alcohol abuse"

Email comparison: Part II

another two emails received on the same day...
here's one from an unnamed source.

Hi Mark, Glad to hear you're out of LA for now. It is a crazy place for shure! And you're on your own Odyssey. I'm suppose we all are. You're right - the waitress may call the cops if you speak so finely! Today I met a real charwoman type; I could hardly understand her, but it was fun trying. She had some plants for sale, mate, but not the ones I wanted luv. We'll see tomorrow if she turns up with basil (pronounced bazo) and mint (meent). I'm starting a small garden, the operative word being 'small'. Keep in touch. Drive easy!



And here's one from my buddy Don...gotta love him..

Hey Marco,

I was thinking about that disgusting, perverted fantasy you were telling me about with the little girls in school uniforms and after awhile thought it might be a pretty fun thing to try out.

One of the girls that I see is very petite, very pretty and up for anything so I gave her some money and had her go buy the things we needed. You know, the short little skirt, white blouse, long white socks etc. Then I told her to come back later wearing everything except panties. When she arrived she had her long, dark hair in 2 pony tails, no makeup and after awhile I found that she had shaved her sweet little pussy leaving not a hair. She really got into it and was going all the way. As soon as she got to my house she came over and sat on my lap and pretended she was a little girl. I let her snuggle into my chest and began stroking her legs and feeling her little buds for breasts. Then she reached down and starting playing with my cock. She acted like she had never seen one before and was more or less playing with it like a toy all the while having a very cute and curious little smile on her face.

Needless to say all this went on for quite awhile and getting more and more outrageous. I don't want to shock you with the particulars but you can take my word for it, your fantasy was totally experienced in every concievable way possible.

Just thought you'd like to know.

Don


Just for the record I was at Don's place drinking and talking about our checkered histories and he was telling me about one or a dozen girls (hookers) he was fucking and I was smiling like I usually do and nodding my head and playing guitar. Then he asked me or maybe I just volunteered that because of the catholic schools all around and the uniform that is to my eyes a Schoolgirl hooker uniform with red and black plaid skirt and knee high stockings and a low buttoned white shirt I said, "hell, I don't know a man alive who can look at those girls and not think dirty thoughts. Even the Dali Lama would get a boner."
and let me say for the record that I do not advocate sex with "little girls". No. That just sounds criminal. IT was simply a fantasy I expressed to keep myself in the conversation that was definitely orbiting sex...and I'm a little suspicious that Don pretends he had never had that fantasy before. bullshit! The day I plant some new idea about sex in Don's head is the day he has completely lost his memory. Anyway,
little did I know that my simple comment would lead to getting the details of Don's trial run. (I love how he says he doesn't want to "shock me with the particulars." ha! after my time in mexico he could fuck a donkey in the ass while flying a hot air balloon and I wouldn't be shocked.) That fucker. I don't regret passing up the chance to rent a pair of hookers for $70 and see for myself if the reality lived up to the fantasy. It sounds like it worked for Don but he and I have slightly different views of relationships. I'm sure if I live to Don's age I will be throwing all of my Social Security money at young whores and having them wear all kinds of costumes; why blow my money on them now?...wait...that sounded callous and cold. I mean, there is a time and place for everything, like the bible says.

open letter to jon rolston

Jon,
sorry I destroyed the directional switch on your '82 Kawasaki 750. You see, I went to clean the contacts, thinking that was the problem with the headlight, and I broke the thumb switch taking it apart. (I was supposed to turn the switch and then pull instead of just pry it out with a knife. Oops) Then I glued it back on with superglue...but...damn it...the switch had two tiny return springs and I had it back together once and then twice and then the third time I compressed the spring to fit the pieces all together and "boing" it got away from me and flew across the garage and into the pile of tools in the corner by the door. I swore, "fuck". but I had already lost a ball bearing that was some kind of index for the position of left or right... But the thumb switch was totally loose and so I decided after a day to hunt for the spring. I took everything out of the corner and when I thought I was getting close I leaned up close to the wall and dislodged a huge industrial sized C Clamp that was hanging from a deer horn on the wall...and the clamp dropped onto my forehead and almost knocked me unconscious. IN fact in my daze I stepped on a rake and totally snapped it up into my face like some cartoon...then I knocked over a sledgehammer. then I took a long nap on the couch while listening to light rock.
later, I still looked for the spring everywhere on the ground and on the table and even inside a plastic container of old paint thinner (because little springs usually find the worst place to land) Alas, I could not find it. So the switch is fucked. If you turn it to the left it will just stay there forever and not return to center. Likewise to the right. Things like that drive me insane. You might adjust better. I did manage to fix the right turn light. but now it will just stay on all day unless you manually return the thumb switch to center. Even then the exact center takes some practice to hit and you should probably be paying attention to the crippled pedestrians and cars around you.
Also, I do not know why the starter relay stopped working. You can ground the two contacts to get it to start but that was not my fault. I swear. IT was just a coincidence.
Now, I did eat some food that you told me specifically was forbidden. It was not out of disrespect...but I can not resist crackers and cheese.
I think the wiring has failed somewhere. I don't think it is grounding because the battery would discharge faster. I think some wire is just disconnected somewhere.

Additionally, I do not have head lice, as far as I know, so I do not think the one or two times I slept in your bed will lead to you having to hire the bug sniffing beagle again.

I also want to thank you for your advice on my writing, how it is self pitying sometimes and how I attack my father routinely and without provication or constructive point. I thought it was all in the name of entertainment but I think I was deluding myself. (Sorry Dad!)

As for my plans on studying to be a motorcycle technician and your suggestion that I would "end up like Todd Hamilton". Ah, well, fuck you, respectfully. I admire any man who can rebuild a transmission and even if I never do it I would like to have some training so I stop destroying bikes that I am trying to fix. And the fact you said this while stumbling around a San Francisco sports themed Hawaiian bar, drinking mango flavored vodka and hitting on girls who were obviously with their significant others (one whom you challenged to a fight) and one woman gave some non verbal communication that was clearly hostile...anyway, you got no room to talk about cliches. I'm enrolling in UTI motorcycle technician institute asap.
here's an article on this matter that Poll (a reader of Jon's blog) thankfully passed along...

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/24/magazine/24labor-t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&sq=honda%20motorcycle%20masters%20degree&st=cse&scp=2

Finally, I thank you for your hosptiatity. Sophia was perfectly justified in kicking us out the door (literally throwing your shoes at your urine soaked feet) and forcing you to sleep on the side of the road, illegally parked, snoring and cramped at the neck while I pissed on a telephone pole. Yes, she would not have kept her pride if she had allowed you to drink to the stage of blackout and still sleep in her house. Bravo. I like her even if she is too mature for you. Anyway, it was all part of the experience I signed up for when I moved into the van and surprised you at your front door. I was very happy to eat the Cliff House buffet with you and her. I like living in a van and pissing in a jug and shitting in a newspaper and then later going to a classy buffet with a harp player busting out Phantom of the Opera tunes and there is Creme Brule and prime rib and bacon and tortellini with fresh mozzerella and champagne poured by a pretty gay waiter and we all eat fresh fruit and look out the window at the freighters on the stormy ocean and you kiss Sophia and she smiles with her full lips and I wipe up the bacon grease with a croissant and wash it down with orange juice...and then I go back and sleep in my van. that's living.

So, anytime you need a place to stay, and have a physician signed note saying you are free of head lice, then come see me. We will set you up.

Thanks.

P.S. The motorcycle gloves you gave me worked perfectly for driving gloves since the van's lack of power steering normally leaves my fingers chaffed and raw. You are awesome!

Here's Jon...a man's best friend....though an Arctic Wolf's worst enemy as you can see him typying "Kill all wolves" into his iPhone.

midwest wrap up

I forgot to mention that the only change of expression I had was when I went to Halloween II and there was exactly one other person there sitting five rows in front of me...a military man judging by his haircut and the nearby military base...(the cashier asked me "Do you have a military ID?" Uh, are your eyes open? Exactly what branch of the military allows someone to look as ragged as me and go to a 10pm showing of Halloween II wearing bell bottom pants and a three month old beard? MAybe I infiltrated the hippy brigade?
anyway, there were a few moments of complete gore (Michael stomps on a guy's head...graphically caving it in) And I found myself laughing a little...then looking around. The other guy had fallen asleep. It was just me...laughing in a Junction City, Kansas movie theater as Michael Myers murdered dozens of people. That was a slight change of expression. otherwise it was all just mindless staring at the road. Of course my mind was terribly active and I wrote several books and movie scripts that would be instant hits if I were able to put them on paper and mail them to an agent, but that will probably never happen. Mostly I just imagined that all this land was leading to a great destiny and a home where I will sleep end to end in a bed and not diagonally.

You think I'm nuts?

This man, Cha cha, is taking his Harley around the world. It looked like he would make it. He was making Kim Chee at a rest stop. When he reached Russia he said he would buy a rifle to kill any thieves. It's like the apocalyspe has already happened.