My drug dealer drove a semi to do deliveries

Portland


1.

“What are you thinking about,” Irene asked, glancing from the road at Nate.
“Nothing,” he replied.
“Nothing? You are thinking of absolutely nothing?”
“I guess,” muttered Nathen.
“Your mind is clear and empty. Not a single thing. No fucking plot to drop a boulder on me from some great height?” I rene lit a cigarette and didn’t roll down a window.
“What do you mean,” Nate said, staring out his window, which did not roll down. Pharmacys and buss stops slid by in the night.
“I guess you think me asking you what your thinking about is some sort of hostility, don’t you? Don’t you?”
Fred answered with force, “No. No it’s fine.”
“It doesn’t sound fine.”
“Listen closer,” Fred said.
“I can read between the lines,” Irene said ashing her cigarette which hadn’t accumulated an ash yet.
“No one’s writing anything. No one.”
“What does that mean?”
Fred exhaled exaserbatetly.
“See,” Irene declared.
Fred glanced at Irene. She was wearing makeup for a party they were headed to. Makeup had a ‘see what you’ve made me do,’ look to Fred. He looked down at his knees and wished they had taken the bus. THen at least he would feel like they were peers.

As they pulled up to the curb, before they stopped. Irene said, ‘lock your door.”
Fred complied locking both before Irene could get out. Although Fred felt this to be a flirty gesture, Irene froze and waited for him to unlock the door. Fred waited to lock the door the moment she unlocked it. This stand-off continued for some time. Then Fred realized this was no time for levity. He got out of the car and walked towards the front door of their friends apartment. He could hear Irene rattle around car behind him. I was all very unimportant.

2.

The three men stood facing the hedge. It was dark outside which made the inside look all the more unbareable. The women were moving freneticly and laughing. Not thaat they were listening, but there was nothing to do but take in and interperate their noises. The jokes were based on familiar predictability. “Well, Emily always wants more butter.”
Isn’t humor unpredictable, wondered Fred.
“Isn’t humor unpredictable? Is that what’s funy?” Fred said. Brian and Dale were silent.
“I mean, a nun falling down a man hole,” Fred continued.
“If by ‘manhole,’ you ment anus, I could see that as a funy thing,” Brian said to his cigarette, then looked up for aproval from the guys.
“What didn’t make that remark funy, Brian, is the predictability of you relating everything to anus,” dale said, staring at the hedge.
“I hate it when people laugh when they both know something. Like when a guy says to another guy, it’s raining, and they both laugh. Those kind of chuckles make me want to vomit,” Fred said.
“It’s like being told by a stranger, I am a repititious bastard and I know repitition is a kind of death. Let’s pretend to be jolly,” Dale said.
“Fear. It’s got to have something to do with fear,” Brian said.
“Why,” asked Fred.
“Because although there are elements of how we relate to a joke, most jokes are based in something awful, or the potential for something awful to happen. Like how we relate to the cyotote and not the road runner,” Brian said.
“Some people relate to the road runner and are amazed at the ingenious nature of his traps,” Dale said.
“Yes, but those people are assholes. They are smug. The road runner is smug. Honestly, he should be shot or run over, then the cyote could eat him,” chuckled Brian.
“Just then you were laughing in a smug way, relating to the coyote. So it the coyote were to come up to you and say, ‘it’s raining,’ would you then laugh,’ Dale asked.
“That’s too abstract an idea. The coyote and I will never have such and exchange,” Brian said.
All three stared at the hedges. After a brief moment, the women cackled in unison.
“I guess there are different kinds of laughter. There is genuine joy, like laughing during a blowjob... there is the laughing at how awful everyhting has gotten...”
“When you can’t get a blow job no mater what you promise,” interupted Brian.
“... there’s the ridiculous laugh. I like those. When something useless and ridiculous happens. When the Dave Mathews tour bus leaked feces and urine on a boat benieth it when it went over a bridge in Chicago. That was a good thing,” Fred said, flinging a cigarette butt at the hedge.
“At that moment you can be sure people in the world feel the same way as you do about Dave Mathews. Then in an elevator with one of those people who had just been shit on by Dave Mathews, you could say; How about that Dave Mathews?” Dale said.
Although no one laughed, the men felt as if something had been accomplished. They turned from the hedge and walked inside.

3.

“Pollenta!”
Fred assumed a grin. He could smell alcohol. The women were drinking and the men were not. Knowing it made him feel drunk. Fred’s eyes followed each vessel from the table to the lips of it’s owner.
Brian was leaning against the fridge and looking at his feet. Dale was trying to jump into a conversation between Irene and Brie. He sputtered protests like a dying engine. Brie extended a hand and put in on Dale’s sholder to shut him up.
“Polenta!” Exclaimed Emily again. As dale began to join the conversation, Brie and Irene simutaneously turnedd to join in Emily’s fasination with the polenta she had discovered in the friddge.
“How do you cook it,” asked Brie.
“You boil it,” said Irene.
“Mmmmm,” said Emily. “let’s boil it.”
“Ok,” said brie, taking a pot from ontop the stove and pouring tap water in it. The two other women looked on. In the lul of their conversations the radio was audible. ‘Sugar Sugar,’ by the Archies was playing.
“Ok,” said Brie as she moved the pot to the oven. She turned on a burner and the blue flames lept up. “Wow,” Brie laughed. “Beter turn that down a notch,” she said.
“Yeah,” laughed Emily. She then swiftly cut open the Polenta bag and squeezed four round brown hokey puck shaped polentas into the water. This made all three women laugh. Fred caught Brian’s eye. Brian quickly looked down again. Fred turned and went into the bathroom.

4.
Fred sat on the tiolet with the lid down. and stared at his feet. He heard Emily in the kitchen begin to say something, so he got up and turned the fan on in the bathroom. The sound drowned out the outside world. He then took his wallet out and held it in one hand. He intended on looking through it. But that idea seemed ridiculous. So he held it and sat in silence.
“This would be a good time for a drink,” he said aloud.

5.

Fred emerged from the bathroom still holding his wallet.
“Where are you going? Irene asked.”
“No where,” Fred said closing the bathroom door behind him.
“Why do you have your wallet out?” Irene asked, not moving out of his way.
“Don’t you have to use the bathroom?” Fred said offereng acsess to the door.
“Why do you have your wallet out?” Irene asked.
“I needed to check something,” Fred said, now blushing.
“Ok,” Irene said and moved past him. Fred lingered in the hall. He herd Irene plop down on the tiolet and pee. When he heard the tiolet paper roll creek, he walked back towards the kitchen. The men were gone.

My drug dealer drove a semi to do deliveries

Portland


1.

“What are you thinking about,” Irene asked, glancing from the road at Nate.
“Nothing,” he replied.
“Nothing? You are thinking of absolutely nothing?”
“I guess,” muttered Nathen.
“Your mind is clear and empty. Not a single thing. No fucking plot to drop a boulder on me from some great height?” I rene lit a cigarette and didn’t roll down a window.
“What do you mean,” Nate said, staring out his window, which did not roll down. Pharmacys and buss stops slid by in the night.
“I guess you think me asking you what your thinking about is some sort of hostility, don’t you? Don’t you?”
Fred answered with force, “No. No it’s fine.”
“It doesn’t sound fine.”
“Listen closer,” Fred said.
“I can read between the lines,” Irene said ashing her cigarette which hadn’t accumulated an ash yet.
“No one’s writing anything. No one.”
“What does that mean?”
Fred exhaled exaserbatetly.
“See,” Irene declared.
Fred glanced at Irene. She was wearing makeup for a party they were headed to. Makeup had a ‘see what you’ve made me do,’ look to Fred. He looked down at his knees and wished they had taken the bus. THen at least he would feel like they were peers.

As they pulled up to the curb, before they stopped. Irene said, ‘lock your door.”
Fred complied locking both before Irene could get out. Although Fred felt this to be a flirty gesture, Irene froze and waited for him to unlock the door. Fred waited to lock the door the moment she unlocked it. This stand-off continued for some time. Then Fred realized this was no time for levity. He got out of the car and walked towards the front door of their friends apartment. He could hear Irene rattle around car behind him. I was all very unimportant.

2.

The three men stood facing the hedge. It was dark outside which made the inside look all the more unbareable. The women were moving freneticly and laughing. Not thaat they were listening, but there was nothing to do but take in and interperate their noises. The jokes were based on familiar predictability. “Well, Emily always wants more butter.”
Isn’t humor unpredictable, wondered Fred.
“Isn’t humor unpredictable? Is that what’s funy?” Fred said. Brian and Dale were silent.
“I mean, a nun falling down a man hole,” Fred continued.
“If by ‘manhole,’ you ment anus, I could see that as a funy thing,” Brian said to his cigarette, then looked up for aproval from the guys.
“What didn’t make that remark funy, Brian, is the predictability of you relating everything to anus,” dale said, staring at the hedge.
“I hate it when people laugh when they both know something. Like when a guy says to another guy, it’s raining, and they both laugh. Those kind of chuckles make me want to vomit,” Fred said.
“It’s like being told by a stranger, I am a repititious bastard and I know repitition is a kind of death. Let’s pretend to be jolly,” Dale said.
“Fear. It’s got to have something to do with fear,” Brian said.
“Why,” asked Fred.
“Because although there are elements of how we relate to a joke, most jokes are based in something awful, or the potential for something awful to happen. Like how we relate to the cyotote and not the road runner,” Brian said.
“Some people relate to the road runner and are amazed at the ingenious nature of his traps,” Dale said.
“Yes, but those people are assholes. They are smug. The road runner is smug. Honestly, he should be shot or run over, then the cyote could eat him,” chuckled Brian.
“Just then you were laughing in a smug way, relating to the coyote. So it the coyote were to come up to you and say, ‘it’s raining,’ would you then laugh,’ Dale asked.
“That’s too abstract an idea. The coyote and I will never have such and exchange,” Brian said.
All three stared at the hedges. After a brief moment, the women cackled in unison.
“I guess there are different kinds of laughter. There is genuine joy, like laughing during a blowjob... there is the laughing at how awful everyhting has gotten...”
“When you can’t get a blow job no mater what you promise,” interupted Brian.
“... there’s the ridiculous laugh. I like those. When something useless and ridiculous happens. When the Dave Mathews tour bus leaked feces and urine on a boat benieth it when it went over a bridge in Chicago. That was a good thing,” Fred said, flinging a cigarette butt at the hedge.
“At that moment you can be sure people in the world feel the same way as you do about Dave Mathews. Then in an elevator with one of those people who had just been shit on by Dave Mathews, you could say; How about that Dave Mathews?” Dale said.
Although no one laughed, the men felt as if something had been accomplished. They turned from the hedge and walked inside.

3.

“Pollenta!”
Fred assumed a grin. He could smell alcohol. The women were drinking and the men were not. Knowing it made him feel drunk. Fred’s eyes followed each vessel from the table to the lips of it’s owner.
Brian was leaning against the fridge and looking at his feet. Dale was trying to jump into a conversation between Irene and Brie. He sputtered protests like a dying engine. Brie extended a hand and put in on Dale’s sholder to shut him up.
“Polenta!” Exclaimed Emily again. As dale began to join the conversation, Brie and Irene simutaneously turnedd to join in Emily’s fasination with the polenta she had discovered in the friddge.
“How do you cook it,” asked Brie.
“You boil it,” said Irene.
“Mmmmm,” said Emily. “let’s boil it.”
“Ok,” said brie, taking a pot from ontop the stove and pouring tap water in it. The two other women looked on. In the lul of their conversations the radio was audible. ‘Sugar Sugar,’ by the Archies was playing.
“Ok,” said Brie as she moved the pot to the oven. She turned on a burner and the blue flames lept up. “Wow,” Brie laughed. “Beter turn that down a notch,” she said.
“Yeah,” laughed Emily. She then swiftly cut open the Polenta bag and squeezed four round brown hokey puck shaped polentas into the water. This made all three women laugh. Fred caught Brian’s eye. Brian quickly looked down again. Fred turned and went into the bathroom.

4.
Fred sat on the tiolet with the lid down. and stared at his feet. He heard Emily in the kitchen begin to say something, so he got up and turned the fan on in the bathroom. The sound drowned out the outside world. He then took his wallet out and held it in one hand. He intended on looking through it. But that idea seemed ridiculous. So he held it and sat in silence.
“This would be a good time for a drink,” he said aloud.

5.

Fred emerged from the bathroom still holding his wallet.
“Where are you going? Irene asked.”
“No where,” Fred said closing the bathroom door behind him.
“Why do you have your wallet out?” Irene asked, not moving out of his way.
“Don’t you have to use the bathroom?” Fred said offereng acsess to the door.
“Why do you have your wallet out?” Irene asked.
“I needed to check something,” Fred said, now blushing.
“Ok,” Irene said and moved past him. Fred lingered in the hall. He herd Irene plop down on the tiolet and pee. When he heard the tiolet paper roll creek, he walked back towards the kitchen. The men were gone.

Newport Oregon

Another town. My god I'm getting old, where as my wife is loosing weight and getting carded to buy cigarettes. I kicked the liqour, and it kicked back, another lonely detox without dr. drew in a trailer already shaking from the wind.

This is a good town. Cheap art supplies and beer.

You can find me on pier one smoking cigars and talking to the sea lions.

I declared 2008 to be the year of no suicides, attempted murders or life threatening illnesses. Lay down your hatchets, pill bottles and coke straws and make some fucking art. Really.