05.Apr.2002

I'm becoming a normal diary writer

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us

Giz and I were kidnapped by Sam, this effervescent youthful Frat Boyish fuckhead, and we ended up somewhere in Oklahoma called Salt Fork.

Sayeth Sam: "Goddammit, I want to fucking go to Salt Fork, USA!"

We ran low on cash, five bucks between the three of us, one pack of cigarettes, one styrofoamed cup of Coke, insurance papers and a beat-up Chevy Cavalier. Life simply couldn't get any better.

Sam has decided he's going to stay with me for the remainder of the day; I walked into my house at 3:45 in the morning, cold, aching, beat-up, waiting for sleep, but it just won't come.

We're doing this teenaged shit again tomorrow night, possibly winding up somewhere in Texas.

I'm living it up until my 84th Birthday next Thursday.

God the days are getting better. I can't imagine leaving Oklahoma for any reason other than to run maniacally into the Pacific Ocean.

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time & machine