the road

gonna hit it soon.

off to New Mexico with Ellroy to see my friend's play, "Red Umbrella's."

i'm also gonna try to keep the blog updated with pix 'n such.

hell, it's 2010 -- these things are possible, right?

no flying cars, but i can tell everybody what i'm doing.

isn't that special?

just providing fodder for big brother, i guess.

nevertheless, it'll be fun.

just out there in the desert.

alone.

well, Ellroy -- but he won't annoy me with his undying affection for second rate rock bands.

he'll just poop.

and poop ain't that bad.

so adios, talk soon.

friday on santa monica blvd..

my buddy huff and i went to barney's beanery last night.

we got drunk.

talked to a few girls.

nothing substantial.

few smiled.

mostly shit-faced.

and i pushed past the dandies and artists who really look like artists, and went outside to the smoke deck.

nearly got in a fight with a hipster on the way.

but peace prevailed.

found a half-smoked cigarette.

lit up.

amazing how many industry types were there.

mostly TV-types.

real used car salesmen.

hucksters.

but we came home, crashed. woke up the next afternoon and went for grub.

lighthouse cafe, like the old days.

took ellroy too.

ate.

walked; shirts off getting sun.

came to the pt. fermin lighthouse.

near sunken city.

edge of the cliffs.

and there was a festival.

a christian festival with kids really happy and praising jesus.

wasn't my thing, but who am i to talk shit.

if they're happy.

they're happy.

's what we all want, right?

happy.

'course the females were around.

good god-fearing with broad smiles.

even met one. got her number.

seemed nice.

least she wasn't pitching a tv pilot...

Operation In Their Boots PROMO!

hey check this out. operation in their boots.

pretty damn cool, i must say

why, it sure is late...

real late.

zero dark-thirty.

4am, sun rise.

clem, rooster-type -- crowed like a champ.

ellroy, pooch-type -- growled back.

now it is quiet. little fan oscillating, just humming.

smoke gathers @ the ceiling.

a bank of fog rolls in off the water.

thick fog.

heavy, moist.

and you can hear the tankers offload their goods.

sometimes a big ole container falls.

BOOM!

i can hear that too.

pin it on some longshoreman.

midnight hotbox on the docks.

can't blame 'em -- they work their asses off.

get smooshed;

slashed;

lumbar hurting and it's time to drive a UTR.

but now it is quiet.

reminds me of the road; clammed up and silent.

doing everything you can to keep awake along those long expanses.

asphalt and a yellow line.

especially @ dark -- it can get interesting.

nodding off all by your lonesome.

pull off and walk into the chaparral -- step into the wild.

keep your eyes peeled for diamondbacks and mojave greens

mojave greens are the worst.

crotalus scutulatus

-- born without rattles and warnings.

and the camps which dot these large expanses.

forget the name, but they're all the same. real cheap and nobody bothers you.

-- my kinda place.

gotta find a spot in the back.

spot where me and Ellroy can do our business.

me: write.

ellroy: dig.

in the back, where it's quiet.

btw, found these great pix @ san pedro daily photo.

well, he got skeered

ellroy @ the wiener nationals in huntington beach, ca.

and he got a bit scared.

and well...um...he didn't run.

just lingered in his stall.

i know, sad.

but we'll be back.

training. and more training.

then we'll pull a MacArthur.

buddies joe and andy took pix.

good shit.

pre-game whiff

meet n' greet w/wire-haired doxie

this guy

other pooch was missing an eye. apparently it "exploded," says the owner.

least he was eager

scoping the competition

defeat

he knows...

he'll be back...

and the ride home...no worries

wiener nationals

that's right, "wiener nationals."

as in, dachshunds from across the country gather in huntington beach, ca and hold a race in the back lot (or something like that) of Paw the Coffee Mill -- a breakfast joint.

owners just provide transpo.

doxies provide the brawn,

think ellroy's gonna have blast.

galloping mini-horse, heart THUMP, THUMP, THUMPING away, tongue flailing wildly.

might even win...ya never know

sirloin all around.

Wiener Nationals

pope-mobile

goddamn, we sure are animals.

ever seen the pope-mobile?

geez, this guy can't even walk in the open without somebody wanting to kill him.

these "somebody's" being muslim.

but they're peaceful people.

yes, yes.

very peaceful.

just like us.

click here