A.) SEPTMBER.07. Whenever September returns, I try to line up the tragedies in my life with those who perished on 9/11, and my problems don't seem so devestating after all. But i believe most of us think if it's not in my backyard it doesn't matter- those who died don't affect me, they don't change my life one way or another. In some parts of the country, the Heartland, there is still a pride in being American and what America stands for: courage, freedom, individuality. Every life taken by a terrorist means something, like your cousin or brother was murdered and you just want to get back at the sonofabitch who did that. Because you're an American and Americans don't get pushed around without putting up a fight.


B.) To get prepared for my upcoming trip to New York City, I’ve been revisiting those fond new york movies from adolescence- goodfellas, mean streets, raging bull, taxi driver, godfather, odd couple, manhattan, saturday night fever, ghostbusters. Then there’s the rereading of old Dorothy parker stories and the Algonquin table and catcher in the rye. Looking up the places bob Dylan and john lennon got stoned at, where did Emmylou eat when she visited? And 42nd street tin pan alley- gershwin, porter, irving berlin. Harlem and the Duke and the Count and Malcolm. There’s conan and howard and the neighborhoods that produced carlin and savage, seinfeld, cagney and Edward robinson. I’ve been waiting all my life for this trip. As a lifelong Californian, there are two places in the lower 48 I got to visit before I croak, and that is dallas and new york city. From the big orange to the big apple in 6 hours, what strange times we live in.

C.) 9.2.07. It was one of those days that you thanked the Lord that you live on the Westside, 10 degrees saner than the rest of la- the carbon monoxide and overcrowding where nobody wants to do anything but sit in front of their tv sets and get piss drunk. This is penance for an unusually cool august. Even at night it’s still 85 in the valley, nonetheless, Jim took Sara to Joey’s Snack Shack in Burbank on Magnolia Boulevard. Live geetar music and plain folks dancing like geriatric patients with stetsons and genuine cowhide leather boots. The electric guitars were cranked up way too loud drowning out the lyrics, still the pair enjoyed themselves and tried to cut a rug before the night was through. Just prior to pulling into the lot, sara mentioned she was hungry and they went to maggianos and split some side dishes. He enjoyed looking at her while she ate, it was restful and vaguely reminded him of happiness.

Currently Playing: Keep on Pushing (2004) by The Black Seeds