A RAMBLING APOLOGY...TWO CANS AND A STRING. STRECHED OUT BETWEEN TWO SEPERATED BEACHES

I've sent a dear friend away along with the feelings I carry inside. A friend that has rarely been seen nor shared in the held memories of those times in the flesh. My thoughts and strengths falsely created and laid out like a military action in this scene are that of a ridiculous sense of doing the right thing. Those feelings still exist. That friend still exists, and I've throw it away. And perhaps she's gone now, and left? all that was there in conscience along that distant beach. Scattered about like the broken shells once occupied by life, to be cast and carried away by tide only to find its way to another shore as tumbled sand. The right thing to do would be to extend an apologetic gesture, and ask for forgiveness. But they've been beaten into a cliche. Yet another movie, regergatated into another 8 dollar ticket swept up from sticky theater floor. At least Matthew is living well from those shitty movies in Malibu now. Smoking too much grass and playing His bongo's as loud as He wishes in the nude. DREAMS have a funny way of coming together, only usually in a twisted form of what was not exactly hoped for or expected. It may seem that I am getting off the tracks. I tend to do that. The reality is that an idea is planted and is watered regularly and grows into something = a possibility. That possibility must be picked at the right time before it's too late, or stored in a place that will keep it from shriveling back into nothing. I guess a simple apology will due. The imagination I live with, has created beautiful things in my reality. I hope aswell for others at times. Other times it's created wrong, or just layed dormant. Possibly best dormant. But. I don't want to be heard, I just feel compelled to say something. I want to apologize. The greatest thing in this life is the beauty and hope You create for it and Your relationship with the one's who believe in You. And as important what you give back to them. The other thing of life is the endurance - There is no easy way to it. Just pushing forward through the mess of it. every day hurdles and challenges. It is very much there as I imagine this thing being a river your forced into down deep in a canyon with vertical walls on each side. At the bottom is giving up, and at the top is that place we all strive and live for... To do the easy thing is to let the river take You and let the current carry you away letting all go into nothing. The other way is obvious - Push on with that mighty spark inside igniting it like a flame thrower out into the Universe and Yelling out 'NOT ME YOU SON OF A BITCH, NOT TODAY, NOT NOW, NOT EVER!' And pushing through the current uphill one force full leg at a time. One step, then another. Smiling back at the Son of a Bitch showing it that Your spirit will never be defeated. One of My favorite quotes was given to Me by a Woman I shared a piece of My life with, lost in time now. I don't remember the Author but I still have the quote She gave Me stuffed in a book somewhere. It read 'I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning to sail My ship'. That always meant a great deal to Me. And for that matter Her as well. Getting to a point here somewhere. I usually will hide it in amongst My ramblings for You to dig it out. I have rare moments, one's where I may just give You a look and it's all there in My eye's. But We are neither here, nor there. What ever endavours and paths You take out there amongst the Mystery I will always be here for You. One of the things I've learned (and this may have been recent from a mutual friend) is that no matter what, the friendship is the most important thing. When it comes to people who share that kindred spark. If that seizes for what ever reason, and is simply tossed in the scrap pile, then what ever was the point. It wasn't the idea that I had thrown away. It was the friendship. For that I am wrong. And let it be if another birth is shit out the ass of some Bastard living in between the worlds of Venice and Santa Monica and lands on His/Her scripted writings because I'm using the cliche to ask if You were to ever find it within that beautiful Heart of Yours to reopen that door to let an old friend back in from the cold. I am sorry...

Ramblings... Will God ever let Us in?

A fond farewell to getting punched in the cock. There's no jury in a room out back anywhere to take to long on a decision of my fate. I've hung them all with a smile and the piano wire used to play my song.

With that being said, one of my closest friends is on his way out. He's giving it all up, the early morning scrambles for the best surf, the sushi hideouts from Santa Barbara to the front door of Mahi's in Seal Beach, the laughs that Venice has best to offer, those old days of the Hollywood nights. and one of the best starts to a Piloting career I've seen, for an idea. One that I smile about. The idea of a Woman on the other side. A past reflection of what could have been and what could possibly be.

A bitter sweet farewell we sat in the back yard of the Wardlow house rolling American Spirits and kicking off a three day bender with folk songs from Chase's guitar, that Angelic voice haunting the sky with 'shut your mouth'. All around the smell of the bbq and hints of Stuarts cigars. A cheers to the flowing lime brilliance of a Mexican river of beer we all sat and took in yet another moment. 3 a.m. came fast and it was just Him and I sitting near the street in beach chairs. The philosophy and the last smoke we witnessed what does not exist. An end.

The next day came early enuff to scramble eggs and start in on the last of the Tecate with orange juice and a little Drive By Truckers. The day went on and we kept at it, not giving up hope on what we had started. Before we knew it was evening and the depth of Our discussions found no bottom. Stuart announced himself to this thing from a long day of flying with his first beer and soon after Josh showed up with His clubs and we were off to the course. Other than the familiar blur, that day had ended with the infamous Sea Urchent shots that I had earned the right to buy on the last hole and the journey home to pass out gracefully a quarter way through 'Taken'.

On the 3rd day the plan was simple. We were going to take to a siesta and meet at the World Cafe in Santa Monica for Chase's show at 7 p.m. But I being the pussy that I am, bowed out after a call to work in Hollywood the next morning and headed out to the Ports Of Call in San Pedro to make ready the Pad and shack for the weekend.

In that moment we talked of music, the Women We love, and to the possibilities and the mystery out ahead of Us. The only part of our past that came up in those days, were of Our fallen, and the tiping of Our glasses. To them and the possibilities that come from those days that are behind Us now.

I stood on the rooftop of the Mondrian Hotel this morning and looked out over West Hollywood. The ants were crawling about the ritual and flashing shots at the house of blues, and I zoomed in on a couple of wanna be actress's practicing their palaties on the lonely street on the east side. The American Idol blow out is here tonight and I can't wait to get the fuck out. I wont lie about the idea of diving into this thing in the strangest of ways... A pill popping fantasy of punching out Adam Lambert and doing rails off Allison Iraheta's bare ass. (I really hope she's of age - but what would it matter in this train wreck when all is said and done.) I go further,. The circus would be at the top of it's glory as I come back from the sweaty outrages session, a smelling combo of pussy, scotch and Marlboro's from the 12th floor suite only to make things worse or better by making my departure through the very strange post modern facade of an abnormally white lobby by puking on Adam while I try to shake his hand and congratulate him on being another asshole to join the ranks...

I'll see You my friend... when You've had Your fill and decide to come home...

'As I'm leaving' is my background. It stands in the mirror as I drive away. I follow the sun as it is setting and I'm somewhere I've never been and somewhere I always was.

The thing that is not understood, that I have come to in this nanu sliver of time is that the idea of something in most cases is a much better place to be than the loss of it and the damage that Our souls can do to each other. The past I'm left with and the one I've created is very much there. (in that past). There's no getting that back or changing it. Moving on and leaving it there is the only way. But if one is to forget. They will surely repeat it. (as it has been written). There is a continuance of this repetition that is constant in our universe. The digger finds this in every shovel that goes into the earth. The winners being the one's to right Our history as we are to know it as that fact without a question. Even though the likely hood of every book written to inform us on 'what had happened' is more than likely a fabrication. All Bull shitting lies to mold and shape our enslaved vision. Well I'm here to stop my own digging of past and start building a new from my mistakes. No lies to be written, for Myself, and all I have wronged are my only judge in the end, and whatever goes down in My book, will be that of My own truth. Even if there is no hope for Me.

The Bubba Diaries

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Untitled moments

she stood there in the rain staring at me with a look of wonder, next to a garbage can and a booth to catch the bus out of. the look was noticeable through the window and the steam rising from my coffee. there was a certain familiararity about it. if it had not been raining i would have thought her crying and a bit strange for holding a newspaper over her head. her eye's told the story. someone i knew from my past logistically sharing the moment in passing. I hesitated and sat and daydreamed a philosophy.'how we all pass through here unknowing of this place. simply buoys out amongst a sea, dumb and effected simply by the frequency of the thing. i remembered her there. that day that has come to pass. sitting next to me back home far away now. no one had ever made me laugh in that way. why had i let her go? I was awakened with another refill and a feeling of joy set in. I looked back to find her and busted through the swinging doors as the bus fled the scene before me. for a moment there was a thought that she was simply hiding and this would be our first laugh in a new beginning but as I stood there in the pouring rain unnoticed, I looked down to find her newspaper.

if it had not been raining one would have thought of me crying and a bit strange for holding a newspaper over my head. she was truly gone once more and I promised myself there in that street that if we were ever there amongst the moment again that I would not hesitate and let it pass.

Ramblings...

POURING INTO THIS REALITY…

SLOWING THE L.A. PACE, EVERYTHING FOCUSES AND GOES TO A HUMBLE PEACE. LOOKING OUT AT THE SKY LINE, THE LONE PALMS STAND LIKE GIANT TROOPS IN FORMATION, AWAITING WORD. THEY ARE OUR WITNESS TYPICALLY UNNOTICED BUT ALWAYS FELT IN THAT ‘SOCAL’ FRAME OF MIND.

I WATCH AS THE 100 CROSS ROADS CARRY ON IN THE CARNIVAL. THIS PACE IS SETTLING EVEN MORE NOW. YEARS BACK IT FELT LIKE A THOUSAND SOULS RUSHING THROUGH YOU LIKE A HIGH CHARGED WIND THAT SCREAMED LIKE RAPE, WITH A HIGH VOLTAGE CHARGE. SET TO LOW AMPERAGE. (THANKFULLY SO). I SEE A POSSIBILITY. BETWEEN THE EX-COPPER AND THE BROKEN UFC’R TALKING COME BACK BUT ONLY HAVING ANOTHER ONE. THE TALK OF JAPANESE BUSSINESS BEGINS AND SILENTLY EXCUSE MYSELF AND GO OUT FOR A SMOKE.

FATTYS GOING FOR NEXT DOOR ICE CREAM, AND I LOOK BACK TOWARDS THE QUIET GIANTS. BEARDS SWAYING CHAOTIC IN THOSE WINDS ALOFT UNFELT AT THIS ALTITUDE. (THE SANTA ANNA’S ARE COMING SOON). I’M REMINDED OF THE IDEA OF VANTAGE, (THAT COMMANDING PERSPECTIVE) TO THINK OF THEM TRYING TO MAKE US UNDERSTAND IN COMPARISON TO MYSELF AND A JENNY LONGLEGS MOVING ACROSS THE PATIO AT A HUMBLE PACE. A THOUGHT OF ANGELIC POSSIBILITIES COMES TO MIND AND OUR PHYSICAL ENDURANCE AND ‘LOST KNOWLEDGE’ IN THIS SLIVER OF TIME. PUT HERE FOR THE LESSONS OF FEELING WE’VE LOST ON THE OTHERSIDE TO REGAIN. ONLY TO GET A GLIMPSE OF WHERE WE COME FROM IN FRAMES OF DREAMS LOST IN THE NIGHT.

I GO BACK IN AND SIT ALONE DOWN AT THE OTHER END AWAY FROM THE ‘LIKES’, AND ‘OH MY GODS’. ‘ANOTHER ONE SWEETY’. ‘FUCK YES. SISTER’. ‘OOWW’, IN A SEXY VOICE BACK AT ME. ‘THESE FUCKING CHARGE SLIPS DRIVE ME CRAZY.’ IT’S SUCH A WASTE OF PAPER!’

‘THAT’S A NOVEL IDEA YOU JUST CAME UP WITH.’

‘WHAT’S THAT SWEETY?’

‘WELL WE ARE ALL GOING ‘GREEN’.’ WHY NOT KEEP THEM AND TURN THEM INTO WRITING TABLITS?’

‘HA! THAT’S WHAT I LOVE ABOUT YOU T-DOG. ALWAYS THE SILENT ONE, AND THEN OUT OF NO WHERE COMING OUT WITH SOMETHING LIKE THAT.’ ‘YOU’RE FUNNY’

I SMILE WITH MY EYES. BOTH AT HER AND MY ODDITIES, AND GRASP THE POUNDER FOR A SWILL. FROM DOWN THE BAR IN A SCOTTISH CALL ‘OW BOUT… DO YA FANCY A PIZZA OHR SUMTHIN BUD?’ A NOD IN AGREEMENT AND AN EMPTY SEAT, I TRAVEL OVER. READY NOW WITH A BUZZ TO GET ME BY WITH CONFIDENCE.

I DIVE INTO THIS THING WITH A ‘LIKE, WHAT’S GOING ON?…’