I.} OCTOBER.23.07. The fire hasn’t really affected us here on the Westside, those santa ana winds are right on schedule, ringing like an egg timer, and the buffoons in Malibu continue to live there despite the danger they know they’re in. 500k fornians displaced. Victor and I went to Los Angeles’ last honky tonk- Cowboy Country, in Lakewood, a little out of the way, but great Stetson fun and worth the trek down the 110 past compton. On the mainstage a man in black with a six string and this girl Jessica from El Paso who looked like emmylou in 73 with jet black curls, did a good sara evans. We’ll be going back. Following day, looked at the home security units behind the glass cases at Turner’s in Torrance. The gruff dude at the counter gave me a flyer, ½ off at the lax range on Manchester. An interesting place, men in three piece suits, but also lots of normal couples go, bunch of college kids with lmu t-shirts, is this a bowling alley or a firing range? And that ladies and gents, is the news from my corner of lake angeles.

II.} 10.14.07. We sang Up Against the wall Redneck Mother in my foreign car on the way to the homecoming game and laughed uncontrollably at “just kicking hippies’ asses and raising hell.” it was surreal really; but the game stunk, like watching an earnest event of the Special Olympics. Got two hot chocolates. We didn’t see too many familiar faces. Then the rain came down, first hard rain in 4 months. Roads were slick but nobody died. There was a red corvette on the freeway facing the opposite direction in the carpool lane. Maybe he died. The next day it was clear very blue, you could practically see Hawaii from ocean park. She laid down on the couch napping, and her hair smelled like strawberries.

III.} 9.30.07. Still trying to put my trip to Manhattan and Brooklyn into words. I can’t fairly describe it, you’ll just have to go there yourself and tell me what it’s like. To me it was a lot like a busy day in la but with two centuries of history. Cory said there’s a pub George Washington and his revolutionary pals used to frequent that still stands on the same location in Wall Street today. I was a tourist, I can’t tell you what it’s like to be a New Yorker- I didn’t walk a mile in his shoes. I can barely tell you what it’s like to be an Angeleno. It’s the people you’re with that’s l.a. to me, my coworkers and growing list of ex roommates and Veronica and her old Texas songs.

Saturday morning, I made a birthday record for Ryan with a lot of Hank jr, David allan coe, Waylon and some keith whitley and charlie rich. These days it seems I can’t quit listening to country. Every time I try to share my latest unlikely discovery with other non-believers they look at me like I’m a f#cking whitewashed Stockholm syndromed freak. Like, hey slant eyes, stick to what you know- that techno shit or new york rap. But I’ve heard it all in the pop music world, and all roads lead to country music: the heart and soul, the patriotism, the blue collar hero, the strong men, the sexy women, the laughs that keep on coming. What about the bigotry?- the lynching songs? Country’s like anything else- you pick and choose what you like and leave the rest alone. You have your clean country- Alan Jackson, emmy lou, george jones and you have your dirty country- hank jr and coe. Whatever the case may be, I’ve learned there’s no use trying to change a person’s mind. 95% of the time he’s made up his mind and won’t see things your way unless he has it in him to branch out. So like bocephus says, if you hate country you can kiss our behind.