My Blog

DESSERT!

LORD — Thu, 27 Aug 2009 12:11:14 GMT

YES! the sweetness is coming...(did i say that?) the stage is in the dust as i type, builders are in the dust while so many sleep. get your sleep now, while you can..... sleep is for pussies! DUSTFISH don't sleep...they pass out! WELCOME HOME YOU BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE!!!!!!!!! DUSTFISH LOVES YOU!!!! i hope you're ready...or...not. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

the desert this year....again

LORD — Thu, 13 Aug 2009 10:54:07 GMT

this will be DUSTFISH's 11th year on the playa, and me and opal's 12th. my dear friend and adviser told me this would happen before he left. so, here we go. can't wait to see you all out there! love you. lord oh! btw! we're at 8:30 @ Esplanade and we built a 50' wide 20' high bordello facace with stripper poles and windows and catwalk as our stage and we got some high end LIVE entertainers to entertain you, and besides that we got CIRCUS METROPOLUS next door on one side and SPANKY'S VILLAGE (if you don't know what the 'Celestial Chair is, it's not your fault) on the other..... prepare yourself to be boarded.

Time to GET HAPPY...

LORD — Sat, 20 Jun 2009 22:28:59 GMT

GRAND OPENING EVENT FOR THE BIG ART STUDIOS AT AMERICAN STEEL THE MOTHER OF ALL FUNDRAISERS SAND BY THE TON www.thebigartexperience.com 200 tons of sand (REALLY!), 5 swimming pools, 8 stages, 250,000 square feet, Oakland's newest indoor beach!!! Presented by: DAN DAS MANN & KAREN CUSOLITO (BIG ART STUDIOS at AMERICAN STEEL), CIRCUS METROPOLUS, DUSTFISH, SPACE COWBOYS, SYMBIOSIS, FALSE PROFIT, NEURO WEAPON, GRAVITY POINT, OPULENT TEMPLE Featuring: MAJOR MONUMENTAL SCULPTURE and INSTALLATION by: DAN DAS MANN & KAREN CUSOLITO, THE FLAMING LOTUS GIRLS, CYCLECIDE HEAVY PEDAL BIKE RODEO, MICHAEL CHRISTIAN, OMEGA RECOIL, FALSE PROFIT LABS, ORION FREDERICKS, MICHAEL STURTZ, MARK McGOTHIGAN, KINETIC STEAM WORKS, JUSTIN GRAY, EVAN TRACY and.... LIVE MUSIC and PERFORMANCE presented by DUSTFISH & CIRCUS METROPOLUS featuring: THE MUTAYTOR, MERMEN, EXTRA ACTION MARCHING BAND, GOOFERMAN, VAU DE VIRE, THE ERIC McFADDEN TRIO, POLKACIDE, BEATS ANTIQUE, 999 EYES, MARK GROWDEN, DROP MOTION, SOLAR FLARE, DEPARTMENT OF SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION, BOILER BAR SEASIDE SANITARIUM AND MEDICINE SHOW, THE BURLEY SISTERS by SuDoNu and more ELECTRONIC MUSIC by: SPACE COWBOYS, OPULENT TEMPLE, SYMBIOSIS, FALSE PROFIT, NEURO WEAPON, GRAVITY POINT Featuring: Syd Gris, Dutch, Vinkalmann, Cosmic Selector, Jeff Taisch, Random Rab, Welder, Heyoka, Dov, Dr Toast, Tinker, Adnan, Michael Tello, T-dUb, Mace, Timmy, Robb Green, Micah J, Pork Chop, Brad Robinson, Mancub, Kaptn Kirk, Ernie Trevino, Aaron Jae, Tamo 4 live music stages, 4 electronic music stages, full boardwalk carnival midway with rides, 200 tons of sand with 5 swimming pools (swimwear encouraged), a quarter million square feet of space under one roof, thousands of your best friends, more lights blinkin' than ever blinked... bookoo (6) bars....you thought you knew the drill till you came here. Please Help Us Help You Get Lost..... JULY 11, 2009 @ THE AMERICAN STEEL BUILDING 1960 Mandela Parkway Oakland CA $20 presale tix & more info @ www.thebigartexperience.com $30 @ door $125 VIP (check the site for VIP info, includes a 50 ft. yacht suspended from the ceiling) 4PM-LATE free BBQ 4-7pm Close to BART~LATE NIGHT BUS SHUTTLE TO SF!~ample secure parking 21+ (sorry) and, thank you. THANK YOU VERY MUCH!

IFFY AND TWITCHY BATTLE IT OUT

LORD — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 14:53:36 GMT

she plucked her eyebrows like a monk removing leaves from the most perfect japanese garden until nothing was left but ...perfection. how she knew that shit was unkown to her, but, she knew. she knew, she was pretty. that's all she needed to know. no more. she was going to the party that night down by the river. the smell of the river was always there. this night...mmmmmmmmmmmmmm. take a breath...that southern mississippi was so sweet. eat yourself sweet. it was a honeysuckle and hootch night. she was dressed to kill, and wanted something she couldn't even name. the heat made your body melt. the heat in her loins couldn't comport with what had been told her by the preachers or her parents. nothing had prepared her for this desire. she met Oran. he played the keyboards; pounding those keys like drums or sweet young corn. sweat dripping from his shoulders like streams from trees dripping into the river with jasmine blossoms while the sounds of boogie woogie pounded from his fingers onto the marble keys, the message, home. the trees hung over the dirty river like silk leaving skin and the smell was like everything begotten and forgotten only interrupted by the smell of his breath and skin heaving and wanting and taking, and, of course her own juices rising and giving and they fucked under the tree overhanging the river. the great river. she didn't even know where babies came from. didn't care. she fucked in bliss. she, much later told Iffy, this story. this was the birth of Iffy's mother. BITCH FUCKED IN BLISS.....bless her fucking heart!!!!!!!!!!!!! she fucked in bliss!!!!! and so did ORAN! not so much to his regret, but, he told me later in his life, while i was changing his bedpan, to never give up my dream. i never did....and... my dream is you. and so begin the stories of iffy and twitchy.

LOVE

LORD — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 13:06:26 GMT

is all there is.

ok, OK....O FUCKING K!!!!!

LORD — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 12:50:46 GMT

i'm eating so many shrrrrroooooooooommmmmmmmmmmmmmsssssssssssssssss, it's not fair to humans ok, ok, OK.............OFUCKUCKINGK,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,I'M NOT HUMAN oh fucking YES! I AM!

CORBY & ESTAR'S WEDDING begins Friday nite & ANON.....

LORD — Thu, 24 Jul 2008 08:13:55 GMT

For the Power, Glory, and Beauty of LOVE..... in case you haven't heard, or have heard and don't know the details.... here.... Corby and Estar are gettin' married for 'legal' ~ this time ~ and, here's the info, as I may know it. Let's all jump for LOVE....the Power, Glory, and Beauty of THE BEAST.... it begins friday night and goes on 'forever'..... i like that word. it tickles me. i love you. L for info: www.corbyandesther.blogspot.com everyone wants you there!!!! LET'S CELEBRATE THIS UNION ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! The Wedding Itself happens Sunday in The Park. check it out...go ahead...hit the URL. (oh...and O.L.A. is our own LEO!) Kick Off Party!! Hey everyone!! Times a ticking away, dresses are being made, tuxedos altered, and we're having a big party to kick off the weekend!! We have four very special DJ's spinning great dance tunes in a very special private venue. The Address for the Anon Salon Gallery is: 285 9th St. In the SOMA district of San Francisco... The cross-street is Folsom. The doors will open at 9pm and music will go till 4am... at least. :) Esther and I can't wait to boogie down with you all!! SEE YOU ALL THERE!!!!!!

OH! MY GOD! I FORGOT TO FUCK!!!!!!!

LORD — Sat, 17 May 2008 06:52:28 GMT

I was telling someone about my wake, and, he asked what my last wish was. "Huh?", I asked. He said "Don't you get one last wish before you die?" Then, it hit me! "OH, MY FUCKING GOD!!!!! I FORGOT TO FUCK!!!!!!!" Ok, we gotta do it over.

MY WAKE KILLED ME!

LORD — Thu, 15 May 2008 17:35:24 GMT

Killed by love, that is...and...lots of acid, booze, laughter, kisses, hugs, singing, dancing, and, and, and. My sides still hurt from laughing so much. I can't even attempt to name names here...and "thank you", just doesn't do it. Besides, I'm dead and "we don't responsible". Coming up next.....JUDGMENT DAY! There'll be more to come......after the resurrection. There's a few photos in the DUSTFISH tribe (thanks to Douglas). mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm, I LOVE YOU ALL! (Opal looks so happy that she finally mustered the forces to kill me, doesn't she?)

Le Saboteur

LORD — Fri, 21 Mar 2008 20:22:42 GMT

ok. i've made mistakes. everyone has made mistakes, and, believe me, being one who stands up...my mistakes usually stand up too. it goes with the territory. and, i'm used to forgiving. "the road to freedom is lined with forgiveness" a wise man once said that, and, i know it to be true. one morning, while camping in the desert....may i say it? at burningman, one morning, i was laying under beautiful rags in the arms of the most beautiful human ever born, magnus, and he looked into my eyes and asked, "lord, where do we go from here?" i said, "it's time to cross the bridge from belief to knowledge. it's time to cross that bridge. we used to 'believe', but, it's time we 'know' that love is the only way....it's time to cross that bridge." and, bernal shaved scatha's pussy and we went on. occasionally, you have to call a snake a snake, or slap a man/woman in the face to let them know they have crossed a line, or have committed a sin, or, to know he/she needs forgiveness. it's all part of the process, as i see it, and, since this is my story, it's all about how i see it....these are my fucking stories and they can tell their end whenever they want to. for right now......i have the morrells......and, mercy is mine, and, i have lived this long. so. tonight, i'm the loser....and...i forgive those who have wronged me....and, myself.

BURGER, ANYONE? HOME?

LORD — Mon, 10 Mar 2008 05:38:46 GMT

the sky was immense and the road was black and straight as could be. we seemed to be driving deeper and deeper into a pit full of the stench of cow shit. it was inescapable. if we tried to breathe through our mouths, we'd swallow moths. fucking moths. what is this relationship between cattle and moths? i don't want to think about it too much. every few or 5 miles or so we could see in the distance a dim light that when we got closer to it, didn't actually grow brighter; only bigger. in the huge dim light we could see pens holding thousands of cows. tens, hundreds of thousands of cows. not milking cows. these were waiting for slaughter. this was certainly different from the image of kurt's shoulders growing brighter, but, i'm not sure it was less unnerving. it was much like watching a polaroid picture develope. a very surreal picture. i don't know how far we drove in this open pit. it seemed like a long, long time, but, even time, it seemed didn't want to be there either. we eventually left the cows behind us and drove into a small town with one very brightly lit, unattended gas station. we were the only people there. it seemed for a bit, we were the only people in town until the biggest, brand new, red pickup truck i ever saw pulled into the station and six, sixteen year old country boys who looked like city thugs (oh help me here? you know, the kind that wanna be cool, but not black?) piled out of the box in a rowdy fashion- or- drunk, kindacoddled, teenagers on a saturday night who live amidst cow shit and moths(if you can call that coddled). we nodded to each other, kurt put the guitar on my back and we were out of there. we kinda wondered if that cop on 99 didn't send us out here to be killed and turned into burgers. "ready for 33 lord?" "oh hell yeah!" "let's get the fuck out of here!" 33 was the road to take to hook into 132 which would hook us into 580. 580 sounded like home. we came to the juncture of 132 and 580. it was a dark road, but pleasant compared to cow shit and moths. we were glad to be on it. we stopped before entering 580 to take a piss and smoke a cigarette. we didn't know what was in store for us, but, we knew it wasn't going to be easy. we opened the mezcal at this point and told each other we loved each other and drank to our deaths. "let's have a drink before we die." and, we weren't joking. we suited up the guitar on my back, straddled consuelo again, and took off on the roundabout entrance to 580 overhead. the difference from 132 to 580 was immediate. 132 was a quaint, dark, tranquil road. almost balmy. 580 was a huge highway with little traffic and barren landscape that had ferocious winds hitting us from the side. the winds we battled all day were breezes by comparison. the difference was the direction. they were trying to blow us over on our side. kurt compensated for the force and drift. i switched hands to relieve one armpit while the other took the brunt. this way i was able to keep one hand awake all the time. i just had to keep switching hands and hold on for life. we still hadn't entered altamont pass. these winds seemed evil. they blew harder and we could see them. the wind was wet, cold fog. it was like being engulfed by a giant, raging enemy that was intent on killing us. and then we entered the pass. that was only the warmup for the real battle. i can't tell you how it, wait...i actually can tell you how small we were compared to what we were looking at. we were ants looking up at giant round mountains that had a road we had to climb. we were surrounded by these round mountains, chased by speeding truck and car lights, and constantly on the verge of being blown off the road by a murderous enemy. we could rarely get over 20mph. kurt drove most of the way on the shoulder of the road, dodging shredded tires, rims, garbage, boxes, tail pipes, bumpers, etc. otherwise we'd be killed. and lest i forget to tell it; it was very, very, very cold. every once in awhile, kurt would check behind us and drive onto the road going downhill to make up some time, then, we'd have to crawl back to the shoulder and crawl up another round mountain. at one point, on a somewhat level spot, we stopped and got off. we could hardly hear each other speak over the roar of the wind. we got the mezcal out and drank more. it was warming. the other traffic looked like ships from another country, or planet travelling to and fro. we were definitely weird visitors drinking mezcal in our shirtsleeves next to our skooter while everything around us was doing it's damndest to kill us. it did feel good for a bit. then, we had to move forward. oh, how beautiful livermore looked from on high. we almost floated down to the blurry distant lights and luxury of a warm drink from a tin box. out of the wind and the mountains my exhaustion finally hit me. i sat on a curb outside the gas station and told kurt i couldn't go on. my heart was freaking out, my body couldn't answer a command, we were an hour or hour and a half drive for someone to come with a truck from the city to come and collect us. kurt wouldn't even hear of it. he riled and railed about how far we'd come and how close we were to 'making it', damn it! he told me basically to get off my fucking dead ass..."we're going home, goddamnit! this fucking thing is not going to beat me!" it was a perfect adjustment and a perfect time for it. we mounted consuelo again and took off for home. it was later that kurt told me his moment of true terror and death, his actually knowing we would die, was altamont pass. mine was 99. wham. we'd already done 5-101-10-15, 99, the fucking san bernadino mountains-no road could scare us anymore. we took 580 at a galloping 46mph. 1mph over the minimum allowed speed. consuelo was humming like a motherfucker! out of the corner of my eye, instead of seeing the blur of passing cars, there was a steady picture with all the cars passing it by too. it was a CHP cruiser definately clocking us. fuck. we couldn't get busted twice in one night, and, this close to home? fuck no. kurt held steady and consuelo kept her speed, and they sped on. like any of the apparitions that appeared and disappeared, they did too. then, we hit a traffic jam caused by highway construction. it gave us a good excuse for going slow, and...a way to get ahead. kurt snaked us right through the jam and off we went. the highway was ours for a bit. things were going so good we almost forgot we were freezing to death. we exited 580 at somewhere. we found another unattended gas station. i took the opportunity to get the guitar off my back and sat on the curb to have a smoke. kurt joined me and a nice looking black guy pulled into the station. kurt asked him if there was a way to oakland from there without getting back on 580. yeah. we drove the streets to and through oakland. we found the fucking bay bridge! this was it. this was definately it and, it was day 2 out of san diego. DUSTFISH was having a fundraiser that night at the Kat Klub, and kurt was adamant about making it there for our triumphant return! he would have killed us to make it there, so it didn't matter that we were freezing to death and hypothermia was setting in. at that point nothing mattered anymore except arriving home. the drive over the bridge at 2:30 or so am was colder than altamont pass. we drove on, crossed the bridge and drove straight to the kat klub. kurt drove us over the curb onto the sidewalk. the fundraiser was over, but, most of DUSTFISH was still there cleaning up. ms fine was outside looking kinda quizzically at me and kurt as we got off the skooter, but, before we could take our helmets off, she knew...and, she blew up! "OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!!!" she came to hug us, but, it hurt. bad. we were freezing and it hurt to be touched. we sat on a stoop and monica took off her coat and blanketed us, and then all the DUSTFISH in the house came out and put their coats on us while we shivered and smiled and held onto each other. before long we were covered in DUSTFISH LOVE. i don't want to carry this story much past this. i still didn't get home for 2 more days. we had a winners and loser photoshoot with wes. he's a good love. really good good love. the celebration was appropriate. i want to end this story like this. without his courage, tenacity, valor, and skills neither of us would be alive to tell this story. it's a rare sight to see, but i saw, experienced, and am here to tell. no matter what happens, kurt is a hero and is precious to me. now, let's get that fucking airship up in the sky.

HOMEWARD?

LORD — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 21:16:55 GMT

we woke up and had a very nice conversation with our indian landlord about our indian skooter. he knew of it and praised it, as we did, especially since it had taken us so far. he wished us farewell and we took off into a landscape of rusted railways, burnt out warehouses, and desert....with a KFC. it had been 1000 miles or so ago since i was able to get the guitar off my back and back on by myself. we had breakfast at the KFC. from mojave to bakersfield and 99, our salvation and straight road home, we had to head westward. it was highway50 something...and, i must say, out of the beautiful scenery we were to witness throughout our priviledged journey, this was perhaps, the prettiest i had seen, and, where my hands started going numb. the westerly winds, instead of hitting us sideways, were hitting us headon and catching the guitar like a gale hitting a sail. the straps were cutting off the circulation from my armpits to my hands and making my fingers go numb. so we'd stop every once in a while to let blood go back to my hands and have a cigarette and a piss under the beautiful blue sky amidst the magnificent rolling hills and majestic rocks and tenacious green of the wild oaks. the wind was relentless. we tried changing the tension and placement of the straps... nothing worked. we just pushed on...halting...and driving to bakersfield. kurt suggested we leave the guitar behind. i refused. this guitar had brought me to tears and joy under his fingertips, and i couldn't imagine letting it go. it was my request to bring it, and my promise to carry it. who the fuck wants to be on a beach in mexico and not hear their loved one play and sing? we stopped for gas in bakersfield, and kurt had an idea to take the straps out of my armpits so the circulation wouldn't be interrupted. it seemed like a good idea. we had an extra bungee cord so he tied the straps across my chest with the bungee cord which forced the straps out of my armpits and put the force of the wind and straps on my chest. the winds never let up...actually, they got worse as we hit 99. which wasn't the 'country road' we thought it would be. it was worse, much worse than interstate 5. the winds were hell, the road was hell, and the sky was blue. we left with the understanding that my signal would stop us. the strapping seemed to be working. my hands were all well and i was hanging on for dear life, the wind was thrashing, and my head started swimming. kind of like i had taken a nice breath of nitrous. too nice. i was fainting, so i gave kurt the signal to pull over. i could barely get off the skooter and kurt looked at me with a 'what the fuck' look, as i realized at the same time, the bungee cord had worked its' way up my chest around my neck and was strangling the blood flow to my head. we gave up on the cords, and strapped in like before and fought the wind till night began to fall, and with it, the winds. and, then, for me, the terror began. my real terror. it's a wonderful and curious thing to live in a constant altered state whether it's positive or negative. it's very like and unlike a drug. the drug will wear off, and leave you where you were, or, thereabouts; but, the altered state; to live in an altered state of conciousness continues and doesn't wear off. it's always there and never diminishes. it changes your expectations from one moment to the next, from one breath to the next. we lived every breath, like it was our last, but there were momentary, mindless blanks...fleeting moments of meditative nirvana. you're living in another world. everything, everything was hightened to it's ultimate experience. for me, to have taken a drug, any drug, to get me to where i was at this point, would have been a feeble attempt to reach where i already was living every second and with every breath. that being said. it got dark on 99. real dark. the only light was terrifying. i couldn't see behind me because of the guitar, and kurt couldn't see behind him because of me and the guitar. all we could hear was the road under our wheels and the hum of consuelo. but every few minutes of hum, i could see kurt's shoulders, just the corners of his shoulders begin to grey, then whiten, brighter and brighter and the sound....the roar of an oncoming truck or car would be on us, and.........wham.....i mean fucking ....WHAM.....go around us and the light on his shoulders would disappear. and, we'd once again be in darkness, alive. "whew", i thought. "they didn't kill us." we were doing about 45mph on a saturday night on highway 99. more traffic than interstate 5 sees in a week in one night. and, all i could see was kurt's shoulders go from grey to bright white and then WHAM....oh, we're not dead. all it would take would be someone changing his cd till we were just a jumbled bump on the highway. i couldn't take anymore and thought, surely, we have to get gas soon, and then, i'll just tell kurt to get the map out and let's get off this fucking road right now! this is roulette. it's torture. the odds are gone. then...kurt pulled over and i could see the familiar blinkin lights reflected in the passing killers and asphalt, and his shoulders. i must say, for the first time in my life, i was happy to be pulled over by a cop. it was a relief to see the traffic whiz by us instead of around us. truly, it was a sigh of relief. we didn't get off the skooter, the cop came up to us. all i could see was the beam of his flashlight slowly go up our legs, over our torsos, the guitar, and our helmets. after scoping us out, he asked, "what the fuck are you doing here?" have i talked about our attire yet? we didn't take much with us, of course. between the both of us, naked, we were already 100 pounds over the capacity for the skooter to carry. so, actually, considering the state we left in...ie. coke up my nose etc...we were wearing what we left in. kurt was wearing jeans and a shirt covered with pink flying pigs and i was wearing velvet snake pants with a flaming red polyester shirt with flames printed all over it. i dunno. maybe it was the combo of the flying pigs and snake pants that won him over or what? what do you think? we had a gallon of gas in our glove compartment and a bottle of mezcal kurt was bringing back as a gift for a friend who requested it. no drugs. and the 64,000 dollar question: "what the fuck are you doing here?" this is how it went. "we're trying to get home. can you tell us how to get off this fucking road?" "where is home?" "san francisco." "WHAT?" "yes. san francisco." "where the fuck are you coming from?" "mexico" "WHAT THE FUCK?!" i must say this in all honesty. his jaw dropped in amazement as we told him our journey and he actually stopped being a cop and tried to help us get home alive. he gave us directions to get off that fucking road. while we were talking over the map on the hood of his car the trucks and cars were flying by and he said "you guys have made an impossible trip and it would be so fucking stupid to die here so close to home, and, i guarantee you, you'll die on this road if you stay on it." he directed us to take the second exit off 99 and then do all these left and right turns etc... he told us not to get back on the road, but, to drive slowly in the shoulder of the road to the second exit. on the map, he showed us there was a huge dark space between the valley and the coast of california where we could pick up the el camino real. he told us there were mountains and canyons we had to cross to get there, and he didn't know if there was any gas to be had, and he wished us luck. we looked at each other, knowing there was no way we were crossing mountains and canyons..again...this fucking day....fuck no. but, we thanked him for the info. then, wistfully, he said "i dunno, i still think i aughta give you a ticket", then he smiled, wished us luck, and waved goodbye. we were spared certain death again, and sent into a dark, open grave full of cow shit and moths. yeah. yeah. cow shit and moths. hundreds of thousands of cows and billions of moths and seemingly endless miles of both.

GOING DOWN?

LORD — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 18:48:11 GMT

ok. we drank the whiskey and we only had to drive down this mountain to the flat, straight, warm desert that was going to welcome us. we'd only been on consuelo for about 15 hours or so and all we had to do is get down this mountain to rest and salvation. at this point, it seemed the easiest part of the trip so far.... this was the first time i ever truly heard a man pray...especially, through the tunnel of a helmet. "oh god....i promise, if you let me live through this, i'll be a good man. A GOOD MAN, from now on. just let me get through this, god...i promise"; that was Kurt's prayer as we began our descent into the most downward, dark, spiralling road anyone could imagine. even on our little consuelo, we couldn't get over 10mph in total darkness with the only light being our little consuelo's spot. often i thought i'd be thrown over the top of him, it was so steep and winding. and, dark. pitch black. no light but for the stars above and god forbid if you look at them because the road would disappear and we'd both be dead from falling off the mountain. we were lulled into a hush.... a contemplation of the winding road when we were shocked by an immediate and deafening horn inside our helmets and skulls of a truck about to crush us. i grabbed kurt even tighter, and said "i love you, goodbye".... it was the whaling of the horn of a train we couldn't see directly below us on it's way passing us in the opposite direction. we knew, at this point, if not earlier, already delirious, and, still winding our way in the darkness with no knowledge of how much further we had to go, had to go on. we were fucked. totally fucked. we forgot to type in 'no mountains' when we typed in 'no freeways' on mapquest back in san diego... winding our way down a mountain, in the dark, on a skooter on our way, not home, but, to route #2 that we hoped would take us to #99 to bakersfield; at sometime/am. the yellow sign coming down the mountain that said #2 was closed due to flood washout was not encouraging. there was no other road to the desert floor except highway #15, that had a 2000 foot incline, and warned all traffic not able to make that incline away. it was a very ugly freeway. very fucking ugly and nowhere we wanted to be on our skooter...... so we stopped at the am/pm and drank more whiskey and looked at our precious map. we hung out there a long long time. we drank more whiskey and finally talked to some local guy and asked him how to get to 99 without going on 15 or 2, and he told us there was a road, not on the map, that we could turn on that would take us to wrightwood and put us on the other side of 2 and take us to 99. we asked him where, from wrightwood, that would take us....he told us, "that's where you die" we thought about it, and went that way. anything but that fucking freeway, or back over that mountain, and certain death. back was death, and forward was death. so we took off for certain death. up and up, and darker and darker and colder we went into the mountains, and, for the first time, kurt stopped and turned around and said, "if we go any further, we'll die". there's no doubt in my mind he was right. we were driving to our death. of couse, we always had been. and, at this point....what the fuck? we went back to the am/pm, drank the rest of our whiskey, and got on the freeway and up the incline. it was, by far, the easiest ride we had on the entire trip. if kurt didn't have to steer, we both could have napped. there was a slow lane up the incline for semitrucks and we pulled between 2 of them and just coasted up and up and up....and, it was warm. damn, that was such a peaceful time on the road. we crested the incline and came down into the desert valley below. the straight and warm roads were just waiting for us. we didn't know the valley was at 4000 ft elevation and it was fucking cold. it was fucking cold, and dark, and yes, straight, with no towns, gas stations, or warmth. no lights, no traffic, nothing. only stars....stars. kurt pulled over along the way and we got off the skooter. we finally smiled at each other in the ambient light of consuelo's spot, turned her off, and looked at the fucking stars above and heard only the sound of our own breathing. there are moments in time that are indescribable, and this one of them. i won't even try here...maybe later, after i've eaten these morrells. we came off a mountain, faced death, and now were in the middle of the mojave desert under horizon to horizon stars...with very little gas and no other light except stars, and our own...cigarettes. and, we drove on. we didn't run out of gas. at an intersection somewhere near boron we got food and gas and tried to get a motel room. we were exhausted. noone would answer their door at the two motels there, so we drove on in the blackness with the hope and thought we could sleep on the side of the road at a rest stop. we found a rest stop and pulled in. there was a borax plant, all lit up in the distance. the yards around the rest stop were filled with thousands of white rocks. not too many vehicles, nice trees, and thousands and thousands of rocks off the pathways to the toilets. maybe we could throw our sleeping bag out here somewhere in these rocks, and sleep...finally...get some fucking sleep. kurt took off to piss in a toilet, while i watched, with the guitar still on my back, the rocks move. they were rabbits. thousands and thousands of rabbits, all moving like waves. waves and waves of rabbits. then, kurt came back and told me some trucker tried to buy sex off of him while he was pissing.... didn't seem like we would sleep yet. we drove on to mojave....and, found a motel. a nice indian man answered his bell at 4am in the middle of the desert. it helped that our skooter was indian made. we slept. this was day 1 from san diego to san francisco. (ahhh, polaroid just called and asked if we could have a picnic with his mate and his son theo in an hour in the park. i told him i was eating morrells and telling a story, and he decided tomorrow would be better....i have to, gleefully, agree) oh....and kurt's sleeping in the front room....on a pillow of angels.

LOST?

LORD — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 17:01:30 GMT

we headed out of town...in the direction we thought was right...even after we actually bought a map....a map... finally, we had a map. all we had to do was find 'county road' to get us back on 'no freeway' road home. yeah. we were more lost with that map than we ever could have been with it. we drove into deep hills with gravel roads that became dirt. oh, yeah. those burgers and tacos were good. night was falling and we had one choice. get on that freeway. #10. this was not good, and we didn't want to do this, but, according to our map, we had to. and...against our combined will.... we did. we had to do it to get back on our 'no freeway' route. #10 was no fun. we couldn't get over 45mph and everyone else, including semitrucks were going 90mph and, the slow lane was rough with troughs dug in by years of trucks and we had little tiny tires hitting every trough dug. and, the sun was going down. this was not our plan, or our 'no freeway' route. but, we had to go on to get home. go north, motherfucker, go on! we had to get to 99 to get to bakersfield....and get home! and, that was still half a state away. help? we pulled off of 10 to get gas. we could only take 1 gallon, plus 1 we carried in the glove box, (oh wait. early on, before we saw the whales spouting on the way down, we figured we needed a funnel to pour our extra gallon into the tank so we used my sunglass case as a funnel that eventually disintegrated and put plastic into the gas tank) but, that's neither here nor there....fuck! a nice man, who had a houseboat on the back of this pickup told us how to connect with, i think it was #134 (which we were supposed to be on for our 'no freeway' ride) without getting back on the freeway, so we took that road. it was dark, but, it was better than being on the freeway. and, we drove. it was weird, and we hit a bunch of knarly bumps and potholes; one of which, bent our back tire rim, but, didn't blow the tire. we drove on and finally hit some town with lights and a gas station. i had to shit, and kurt lost his mind. that was literally it...IT. he, honestly had taken all he could take at that point, and for the first time in my life, i watched a man completely lose his shit... he got off consuelo and started screaming.... "i've had it! i don't want to drive any fucking more! this is too much! i want someone to come and get us right fucking now!!!" i've done alot of acid, and taken people out of their worst fucking trips, and, i had no words of comfort for him..... i had to shit. after going through the gangbangers, and hellions, and the shithole i came walking back to kurt, and he was laughing while looking at a map and exclaimed to me "Lord! we accidentally found our way back!!! no more freeways!!!!" we had actually found our way back to our pieces of paper, mapquest , no freeway home, map! it was possible. at that moment, i was happier for him than i was for myself. we were inexorably tied to the same fate, but, at that moment, i was happier for him than i was for myself. it was a deep, deep sigh of relief. for both of us. with smiles, we drove on. the huge yellow sign that read, "all cars blocking snowplows will be towed" should have registered a LOUD warning of the road to come. big sur, at night, was NOTHING. NOTHING!!!! it was midnight and we kept going up....and up....and upppppp....till i couldn't even look without almost puking on kurt's back. it was like being so high, it was seeing the whole LA basin from an airplane coming in for landing.... big sur? fuck that. we were skootering over the fucking san bernadino mountains!!!!!!!! oh fuck me! i would look, and then bury my face into kurt's back and say "this isn't happening". god only knows, and, well, actually, kurt only knows how or what he was feeling or thinking as we kept climbing and climbing, and consuelo started to putter and complain....and....eventually.....stopped going...gggrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.... consuelo quit. she quit. we got off of her and put our shirts on and pissed off the side of the mountain. it was cold. we had a cigarette. we laughed. we laughed alot about big sur, and no freeways, and our trip. we laughed about everything. we pissed, we smoked, we laughed and we said, "no matter what happens, i wouldn't trade this for anything, and i love you. i wouldn't have done this with anyone else but you." consuelo started again and we continued our climb to the rim of the world...(which, we thought we should take a picture of kurt's hand blocking out the word 'of') but, we were way too freaked out at that point to think of pictures on a plastic camera to take. there was a liquor store at the top of the mountain and we went straight for it and bought a bottle of whiskey immediately. i didn't even take the gutiar off my back....and, we drank...no, we gulped whiskey. it was warming...and, it was a breather....for what, we didn't know. even our map, at his point, couldn't tell us shit. and, all it told us later was ... you're fucked.

RETARDED?

LORD — Sun, 09 Mar 2008 16:13:36 GMT

ok. here it is. we dicided, in san diego, at leianna's place, that we would take an inland route home. it was through desert land and pretty much a straight road home. warmer and flat...no freeways. no problem.... we knew that whatever time we left, from our previous experience, that no matter what time we left san diego, we would have to do big sur at night time, and, we didn't want to go over that fucking hill, especially at night, again. my lord, quijote, sancho...decided to take the inland route home from san diego....without freeways...period! he punched the directive into mapquest on leianna's computer and got the directions which we printed out on 6 pieces of paper. he asked me if i could yell the directions into his ear as we drove. i said, "yes, but, i doubt you'll hear me through your helmet". he cut the directions and taped them to the front of the scooter, and, with much hugging and kissing with leianna and no other ceremony, we took off for home. we still didn't have a map. "just keep the water on your right" was our credo to mexico. "oh god!" was our credo on the way back. ok.....i have morrells. i just ate some...it's not late or early, in time... well, you know i like the taste by now, if you're still reading this. by now, i'm not talking to you. i'm talking to myself. i'm telling this story so i know it, and don't forget how to tell it. i want only the truth of it. before i forget. even the most is subject to the color of time. we got on that skooter with a sense of dread....the long way home...the unknown...and excitement for that and even more. we drove through places we never anticipated the beauty of. the roads were beyond beauty that took us to horse paddoks and mansions that we would have never known existed. we pissed in water bluer than any sky. the roads kept wandering, and meandering through overhung oaks, and sweet smelling land and through hills and burnt out trucks, boulders the size of mountains and canyons and lawrence welk's home. oh my god. we were in god's country on a skooter. and the heat felt so good. it was beyond beauty...it was glorious and it was ours to experience, and we did. we had no choice. we had to experience this because there was no other way home. just like watching the whales blow on the way to mexico, we had to experience the sun on our way home. it was natural. it was supernatural. at this point...it just was, and we had to keep going. and we had to experience the wind...with the sail on my back. the guitar. we were driving through the most beautiful scenery we had seen. the hills got bigger, the sun was brighter, and the wind got more furious as we went on. i had to hold onto kurt tighter than ever. on the downhill, he'd yell, "hold on tighter! lean with me!" the wind was mercilous. the guitar was static and beating me to a pulp. i soon, realized my little fingers were going to sleep. then, the rest of my fingers were going to sleep....and, i gestured to kurt that we should pull over to the side of the beautiful road. he did. i told him my hands were going to sleep because the straps of the guitar case were cutting off the blood circulation to my hands and if i let it continue, i wouldn't know if i was holding on or not, and, i would be blown off the back of the skooter in a second. i had to let blood get back into my hands. we pissed and had a cigarette. OH FUCK....... WAIT A MINUTE..... before we got there..... oh fuck. we were driving through lawrence welk territory and enjoying ourselves so much and having such a beautiful drive at our leisure and loving every moment of it. ah beauty. beauty. we stopped in a town called beaumont for food. we stopped at a place for fast food, that had 'two kitchens'. it was older than mcdonalds, and, you ordered your food at the counter, burger and taco, and then a retarded person would bring you your food. that was it. a retarded person would bring you your food. they were so sweet and nice and retarded. every pickup truck that went by, had an american flag painted on the door.... and, we still didn't have a map. and drove on, and it was getting dark.

HOMEWARD PT 1

LORD — Wed, 06 Feb 2008 00:22:39 GMT

ok.....j.....you're right, as usual....the black ones are really good. and, the screen is still possibly too pretty, but, i dunno....i like this pretty so i'm gonna see how far i can get with it. the trip to san diego from mexico wasn't much to tell about. if you're interested, i'll tell ya, but, really....between mexico and san diego.....no fucking big deal, as far as bones go. we stopped by leianna's house again, showered, hootched, and checked the internet....especially, the DUSTFISH tribe. that's where we learned that wes didn't have the money to lose the bet he wagered...and was earnestly cajoled to abandon after he witnessed kurt blowing 2cb up my ass with the insufflator....etc. at that point, we were desolute. this was not funny. and, we still had most of the long state of california to travel on a skooter to get home. nah, this was not funny to us. Wes should have definately stayed away from the ponies. as ulysses had suggested. kurt asked me to make it look better....like we didn't just attempt suicide for nothing.... i tried. i tried at first to see it as a joke.. that didn't work at all. finally, i told the truth. my truth. at that point we had already outspent our camp funding by almost 1000 dollars, and i told kurt that no amount of money could pay for this experience. we could have spent billions of dollars and never had what we experienced...so far...and were about to experience. he felt a little better about that, but, decided his truth was this, on top of that which i had offered: he couldn't wait to get home and strangle Wes to death. and, oh yeah..... this is where we argued about who was actually Quixote and who was Sancho. after much deliberation and arguement....i decided he was neither, but, he was the windmill. and...........i was wrong. he is~~~~ the Don.

AHHHHHH......MEXICO!

LORD — Tue, 05 Feb 2008 19:44:52 GMT

ok...i got some hootch, and, there's a beautiful morrell in front of me. it's that time. sam's mom blesses me, my friends, and my stories... kurt read much of what i've written so far, and, blesses it too, and promises, kinda, to add his trip to mine. this is just bare bones story telling. i haven't mentioned a word about the emotions, feelings, sights, sounds, etc., that either one of us encountered or felt on or about this extravagant trip. it's all bare bones, but, i think i might find some from here on. it gets more intense as we go along....but, we manage to find some nice time in mexico. that isn't to say we didn't have nice time on the way there... it was all scary, lovely, and exciting to the maximum....as far as we knew, and, we were both experienced, very experienced 'travellers'. and, i'm nibbling morrells now....and, it's time to go on. so, where was i? mmmmmmmmmmmmmm, more morrell. oh, yeah...mexico...baja. we were at monalisa for about 2 days before i came down with what i call, from 'night of the iguana', "aztec 2 step". in other words, i came down with 'the shits'. i couldn't get 2 steps from our toilet. kurt drove the skooter to town and brought back 'hamburgesas' and a bottle of pepto bismal. i drank the whole bottle. it didn't work. at this point, i'd like to say, kurt took absolutely the best care of me i could imagine another human doing for one such as me. he really did. when we realized the pepto didn't work, he went back to town and brought back imodium. within 15, or less, minutes.....my shits were gone. we decided we'd make a commercial for imodium. holding a bottle of mezcal in one hand and a bottle of imodium in the other we'd both say, smiling, of course..... "IMODIUM!!! SHUTS OFF THE SHIT FAUCET!!!" so, it was time to break out the guitar and have a good time on the beach! the guitar. like i said....it was my idea and my burden to bear. i didn't want to go all the way to mexico without having kurt singing on the beach to me and anyone who could hear. no way. it almost killed us. this, if i didn't qualify before, qualifies me as a pure pleasure hog. so, the afternoon, once we woke up, and my shits were over, we went to the beach with the guitar and a bottle of mezcal and tecate for wash and kurt set up on a table under a thatched cabana and started singin' and strummin' like the angel he is. it was a beautiful sunny day, and, fuck it! the sky was blue, the sea was blue, the breeze was warm, etc....(the color of the sand was bla bla bla..., and, to the left of our beach there was donkey shit). under our cabana, came two mexican guys with a styrophoam cooler full of 40 oz bottles of tecate. i watched in mild deliciousness as one of them tried to open one of their bottles while kurt kept singing over the breeze and the wind and the guitar. (the morrell's kicking in, and, i have another in my mouth) (shit! i almost forgot this part!!! it took me my whole lifetime as a fucking serious drinker to open a bottle of beer with a lighter! i finally could do it, and, watched as they, like i did so many times, try to open my beer on a grill or rock, or teeth) so, i offered my help, and....POP! this was one of my favorite days on the beach drinking mezcal, which we had planned to do....our only plan.....get to mexico and drink gallons of mezcal. and, we did. and, here was ulysses and a guy who said his name was roger. i believe ulysses, but, not roger. no way. i asked him his real name and he said, "my name is rojellio". i almost fell over. "why would you call yourself roger, when you have such a beautiful name as rojellio?" i asked. "because it gets you more jobs with americans" he answered. i told him he should stop that immediately! my spanish is rusty to say the least. before we left, kurt asked me what i could say in spanish and i said what i thought was this "you're very beautiful, and i'm a fag, may i suck your cock, please?" he told me i couldn't speak spanish once we crossed the border because what i actually said was "you're a pretty fag, suck my dick" i had my prepositions all fucked up. oh well. so...me and ulysses and rojellio and kurt ran out of booze and had to run to town to get more. it was about 4 in the afternoon, and, none of us was ready to quit. the four of us got into ulysses' truck and went to a little store and bought more mezcal and tecate. i lingered behind a bit so i could try some of my remembered spanish on the cutest clerk in the world and said, "tu es muy hermosas!" his face erupted into the most beautiful smile, well, almost, the most beautiful smile i ever saw. when i came outside, kurt asked what i said, and i told him and ulysses and rojellio what i said, and they erupted too. i said it right. "you are beautiful!" even kurt agreed. he was beautiful, all he needed was that smile. we went back to the beach and kurt kept singing and strumming and we kept talking with more waves, and sky and smiles and laughter and mezcal and pelicans. the screen's getting a little pretty here. give me minute. ok i think i'm ok now. wow, these are really good morrells....(thank you again, jonny!) allright....back to the story: so, lisa, the owner of monalisa, came out and down to us and called me aside te tell me she knew these boys grandparents, their parents, and them since they were children and me and kurt were partying with wonderful people and not to worry. oh my god... i almost cried. these people are so incredibly good you just want to devour them. eat them. wait......you know....lick and suck....that's all....oh god. all right....back to the story. my story. as a background for what's to come, i should say this. and i will now. ulysses, after being told how we came to be there at that moment, told me "your friend, Wes, should stay away from the ponies!" i think i fell into the sand on that one. we were laughing so hard....and kurt, never stopped singing. after showing me pictures from his wallet of his children, and explaining how much he loved them, he told me as he jestured his head toward kurt..."he's in love with you, you know this, right?" i told ulysses and rojellio the truth immediately."no, you have that backwards. i'm in love with him, he's not in love with me." "ohhh, he still thinks he's straight" they said. "hang on lord" they said. "you have a good one!" i still disagreed them, and they with me, but, i persevered with the knowledge of the power and the glory and beauty of love. and, we went on... i think it was the next day, kurt and i went for a long walk down the beach to what looked like an inlet or possibly an island and got as far as we could. the seas were impossible to swim over. they were roiling, so we sat on the wall and watched jetskies ferry people back and forth and talked about how we could skooter to siberia. i told kurt it would be difficult, but, not impossible till we reached the bering sea...then what? he replied, "we'll build a balloon and strap the fucking skooter to the side and float over the fuckin' sea!" "consider it done! motherfucker!!!" after what we had been through, i would go anywhere, i guess that's obvious by now, with this crazy man. of course, if either of us knew what was waiting for us..... we probably would have had a different discourse on the seashore that day. ok, kurt's awake now. if we had known what was awaiting us.... we'd still be there...on the beach....trying to call home and begging someone...anyone...to CUM AND GET US!!!!!!

PT 6 THE HOOKER and THE DOLPHINS

LORD — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 03:26:53 GMT

we drove a treacherous road at night, it was beautiful, but, we had to be careful. after the shit of rosarito we just wanted to get to ensenada and rest....we could see it glimmering in the distance from the cliffs. it looked so nice. the sea with the shimmering ships, the glimmering lights. it was like witnessing salvation.... finally.... let's go on. we stopped in town for a taco....actually, 4. it was a roadside place and the el pastor tacos were out of this world. it was like we'd NEVER eaten a taco in our lives. this was the real shit! his name was andres. we went across the street to a liquor store and they had a huge selection of mezcal....we bought a bottle of Monte Alban and went looking for a room. it was a saturday night, a ship had docked, and we must have passed at least 5 THUMPING beach parties coming into town and there wasn't a room to be had. we checked everywhere. i was begging to stop and sleep on the grass in a median. we were really that desperate. we finally, stopped at an intersection that had 4 hotels. i checked each one, and, no vacancy. we were literally exhausted. i leaned on a lampost, feeling completely dejected and defeated when a brand new red pickup pulled up with 2 mexican guys and they gave a catcall whistle...you know....c'mere, baby. they thought i was a hooker! well....that definately changed my mood. so i went to where kurt was sitting on the curb talking to a nice guy who was telling him about a campground on the beach just outside of town, not far from where we'd just come. we thanked him and went. and, there it was. gated and nice. people were camped there with tents and children and fires and so we laid out our sleeping bag, tied our shit to our ankles with string and passed out. when i woke up...there was the sound of surf, and children laughing. the sky was so blue. i stood up and dolphins were jumping in the air. it was so pretty. kurt got up and we drank mezcal....shit....showered....and left to find our cabana on the beach. all in all....it was pretty glorious....until we couldn't find our cabana on the beach. we finally found a place at estero beach. it was kinda nice, but, not really. the vibe was wrong. i was ready to settle for it though....anything to get the guitar off my back and start some relaxing was fine with me, but, kurt said, "please". well, that's a melt. ok. let's try that other place a mile or two down the roads....so off we went. the place we were at offerred us a deal once they realized we came from sf to ensenada on that skooter. but, we went to the monalisa.... driving in was a trip. it felt so funky and homey, and all the buildings seemed nuts and had sculptures depicting aztec figures in brightly painted colors everywhere you looked. we drove up to the big front house and met lisa. the owner. god only knows how old she actually is, but, she is still definately a very beautiful woman. stikingly beautiful. long long curling black hair, wild like.....a knockout. she met us, and i left it to kurt. she gave us a beer and within 5 minutes we knew her whole history and she knew ours and she rented us a room attached to her own house on the beach. i asked kurt if he was happy, and he just gleemed; and that made me gleem. we found our place. we immediately took off our clothes, climbed down the rocks, and ...... jumped into the ocean.

PT 5 WE FUCKING WIN!!!!!!!

LORD — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 01:59:04 GMT

we were only 5 miles from the border....of.....mexico. WE WIN THE FUCKING BET, WES!!!! shit! we're shittin' in tall grass this day. we rested up and got drunk at leianna's and got on the skooter to go. got some supplies and took off for mexico. we'd crossed the border of sanity long, long ago..... mexico was our goal. we bought cheap plastic cameras to photograph our crossing so Ikon would know he lost the bet and DUSTFISH could start spending the money..... "LAST US EXIT" wow....we made it. trash, more trash, ugly tijuana, and us....and, all the mexicans. we stopped and took pictures of ourselves on the highway. smiling like motherfuckers!! we made it. fuck, WE MADE IT!!! WE WON THE BET!!! that's when we noticed the honking of horns was different. the mexicans weren't saying 'get out of our way'.....they were high fiving us and saying 'WELCOME!": i made a deal with kurt before we left that we wouldn't stop in TJ.....cause i knew if we did....we'd still be there betting on cockfights and yelling at burro shows.... we're kinda like that...i promised him if we saw a burro on the side of the road, i'd get off the skooter and jack it off for him. that would be his burro show. we were heading for ensenada, damn it....and the beach. we drove on. we won the bet, now, let's go relax on the beach. we still didn't have a map. i saw this huge house on a hill, that was a woman's torso with HUGE TITS and tapped kurt's helmet and pointed to it. we turned around and started driving up the hill to the tits, but, our skooter lost traction on the road and we started rolling backwards down the hill into oncoming cars and couldn't stop. of course....we're gonna die here. but, no. kurt skillfully backed us into a bush and rocks and came to a stop. i got off and he took off. he didn't come back soon. i smoked a cig while trying to talk to the mexicans who thought we crashed. all the while, wondering, of course, where in the hell is Quixote??? he left me on a hill on a sideroad in mexico with a guitar on my back and all the spanish i can say is "you're cute, can i suck your cock?" he eventually came back. i was pissed off. he asked me not to be pissed, and i said ok. just tell me when you're gonna leave me on the side of the road. he had to go see the tits house. tit house? burro show? wtf you gonna do? we pushed on to Ensenada!

PT 4....TACOS...TRUE FEAR....AND....REST

LORD — Fri, 25 Jan 2008 00:24:04 GMT

ok....the screen is looking a little too pretty now....it's a comeon.....ya know...i better wait a minute or two.... well, i just shit morrells.....cause that's all that's in me now.... ok.... i'm pure...so to speak pearl jam is pouring .... we came into LA like murderers..... we were tried; and conquered our conquerors.... by this time, nothing could stand in our way to nirvana! it was like 9pm and we beat the shit out of la traffic cause we were on a skooter, and kurt could drive a skooter in ho chi mihn city.... but, we need THAT TACO!!!!! It was the first time i had to realize we weren't siamese twins....i didn't care about THAT TACO. but, kurt wanted THAT TACO in LA. and, we hunted, and hunted, and he made phone calls to find THAT TACO. i got fed up, and insisted we didn't NEED THAT FUCKING TACO! that moment broke me.....i realized WE NEEDED THAT TACO.....because HE needed that TACO....WE needed that TACO. it was another of those beautiful moments in time....especially when we found it. forget that we found infinately better tacos in mexico, and, we made it part of our mission to find THE BEST TACOS in baja....and mezcal....and a beautiful place on the beach once we actually made it...... THIS TACO MEANT SOMETHING..... instead of staying in LA, we moved on, full of tacos, and happy, for san diego...... thank god we left LA feeling so rejuvinated and alive and ready for the scary part. we got back on the coast road with ease, and stopped along the way in the cute coastal towns, you know ---------beach. always ----------beach. it was actually a beautiful night. big moon and clear skies. full of tacos and the bet/adventure is more than half won! then we hit nixon's town.....san clemente. the road disappeared..... we had nowhere to go.......except I-5. we spent about an hour driving into golf courses and military bases to no avail.... we had to get on I-5 our top speed was 45mph. and our 4 x 6" tail lite was obscured by our sleeping bag and sheet. the wind was unreal, so the sail that was the guitar on my back was WAILING, and kurt kept blinking every light he could blink and kept his head bopping to some insane disco song he was yelling by i think, the village people, and we just kept going....of course we were both holding on for our lives as 18 wheelers whizzed by at 100mph, and every other vehicle was threatening to demolish us in a second, and amidst all this blinkin, and wailing, and holding on.....a strobe light came from the side so bright....a bunch of strobe lights...we turned to look at this new thing and a long tourist van had slowed down next to us and all the tourists inside were flashing pictures at two fucking maniacs on I-5 on a skooter with a guitar on their back. then, we found oceanside. i called my friend, leianna in san diego....i'm gonna stop here for now, cause i gotta call leianna. i can't let that name go without some history and knowledge of who this person is in my life.....and, i can't say no more till i call her. ok, she said to give her 30 mins..... i have more morrells..... thank you, jonny! i'll just do an (insert her) here. and carry on without saying history....leianna was a major, MAJOR contact with some kind of reality that we were close to winning the bet. we were so far from reality, or so into it at this point.....we didn't know. either way, we needed, NEEDED guidance from this point. and leianna guided us to san diego from there. we drove through nice trees, and towns, and travelled so nicely until we converged with about 6 different freeways coming into san diego. it was the first time i ever heard kurt SCREAM, and we almost DIED. we almost lost the skooter and the bet and our lives, again....but, this was the first time i ever heard kurt SCREAM......i held on tighter. what else you gonna do? later, i found out. we made it out of that and found our way into leianna's part of the city, kinda. we called her again. by this time it was almost 6am, and she waited all night for us to arrive.....like she hadn't waited for days for this to happen....she was almost happier than we were that we had made it this far. ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh, we made it to leianna's home and welcoming arms. we were 5 miles from the mexican border, motherfucker!!! that skooter, which we named, consuelo, worked her fucking ass off.....and, she had not even begun her woeful journey. elaine is playing trumpet to 'lilac wine' sung by jeff buckley while i'm typing this.... this is where i live. not bad, eh? oh, and, i'm gonna eat some more morrells now while waiting to hear from our saviour, leianna, who treated us to a beautiful dinner at a beautiful restaurant and blew up a bed for us in her livingroom which provided us the most beautiful and luxurious sleep we'd had since we began. later,after dinner, kurt and i bought a half gallon of gin and mango juice. and we all got drunk. then, we checked tribe.net and told everyone where we were..... oh, that was fun. and, we heard about the quixote/sancho connection.... and, thus...began the argument. kurt swore that me, LH, was 10 times more delusional than he was....and, therefore, I WAS QUIXOTE, and HE WAS SANCHO... BULLSHIT, i screamed......LOOK AT YOU.....IF YOU'RE NOT FUCKING CRAZY.......WHO IS??????? i mean.....WHO DROVE US HERE?????? YOU FUCKING IDIOT!!!!! YOU ALMOST KILLED US BOTH...... NOW, WHO'S QUIXOTE????

PT 3? THE HAMBURGLAR?

LORD — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 21:54:57 GMT

ya know, it's not my deal to get too much into the details of asphalt..... the guitar on my back made a sail for the wind to catch and i had to hold onto kurt so hard not to fly off the back of the scooter, and this is how we rode all the way....much like siamese twins. the gas tank would hold 1 gallon of gas, and the 'glovebox' held a plasic bottle of something like detergent that kurt had dumped and filled with another gallon of gas. so we had 2 gallons of gas, at most, all the way. even during daylight, the people....drivers in bmw's, mercedes, around carmel and thereabouts actually tried to kill us. they tried to run us off the road to a certain death. they're honking always preceded the evil finger...... i only say this because it's true and so unlike what we encountered on the highways in mexico where people honked and gave us the high 5 and a hearty welcome you crazy fucking gringos!!! as if we needed a reminder of what evil we were leaving and what beauty we were entering.... but, that's for later. it started getting late, and very cold around paso robles.... we hadn't planned for this time, or cold, or slowness..... there was no planning.....only to follow the coast to mexico. i knew the area and went to cayucus. i knew some bars there, and, we might possibly find stillman brown, the winemaker for jory wines and red zeppelin. but, i didn't bring my phonebook....it was weight. we drank at the bar me and opal drank at and picked up a boy once and taught him things he only dreamed about once, but, that's another story, and, kurt was saying he'd fuck a fat chick to get us a warm place for the night. .......it was cold and we drank alot of jack and beer after 17 hours on the road, and, i wasn't into the fat chick fuckin scenario on this night so we drove to san luis obispo, 16 miles away to find a motel room at 2am. we couldn't even find the beach at that time, and were FREEZING our asses off.....(little did we know, that was small time compared to what lay ahead)..... but, we found a motel that said they had a room. a very nice indian lady came out and got in her mercedes and told us to follow her. we did. we were desperate. that desperate. we followed her about half way back from where he had come to a shithole on the side of the road that didn't have a key or heat and i said, ok, that's enough. give us our money back, right now! there's no fucking way....she relented and we followed her back to town and got our money back and went searching again.... by this time it was 4am. we drove, over devils slide, through big sur, all fucking day and night....people trying to killl us....closed a bar and we were freezing.... OFF THE FUCKING SCOOTER NOW.....get this guitar off my FUCKING BACK!!!! we found a motel for 95 bucks and died till checkout....11am. then we took off again for mexico. exhausted, but, happy. our fist big highway surprise was going around santa barbara..... 1 turned into 101 and we were on a freeway......a very congested freeway....and, this is where i learned how skilled and courageous kurt was on a scooter. i had to close my eyes, hold on tight, and pray all the way to carpenteria. I'm not even sure if anyone gets to witness a persons' courage and skill outside of wartime in this life, but, i must say....it was Kurt's skill and courage that saved us from certain death. period. i will always deeply admire him, if not for that, this, and many other things....his shit doesn't stink. we stopped in carpenteria along the beach for lunch.... we stopped at an outdoor hamburger joint. we unloaded, which mainly meant took the guitar off my back and the sacks i carried on my shoulders and got a table. kurt went in to get our burgers and came out fairly quickly with our burgers....i asked about condiments and said i'll go get them. it took about 2 minutes at most. when i came out, kurt was gone, but all our stuff was still there. so i sat down bewildered....with the ketchup and mustard.... i lit a cig and waited...... then....here came kurt....limping and out of breath...and bleeding from his hand. so....i'm going, "what the fuck, honey?!?" and he tells me when i went for the mustard some guy came and grabbed one of the burgers from our tray and ran off with it, so kurt chased him.....but his legs were so fucked up from being on the skooter for so long he fell while chasing the guy. when he fell, the guy turned around and said "fuck you! I need this more than you do!" kurt then came, limping back to the table, bleeding. the HAMBURGLAR got us in carpenteria. it was only the 1st time our food had been snatched..... but, kurt needed that hand to control the scooter and it was damaged. and, we were in santa barbara.....not even LA. on the way to LA, i must say.....we got off 101 which really did try to kill us, and drank a beer while watching the ocean sail by. it was a glorious day. and, i figured out how to use my sunglass case as a funnel for our reserve gas.....

DEVILS SLIDE....BIG SUR....um, is this P2? lemme see....i need more morrells

LORD — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 19:58:21 GMT

we realized early on, going up hill.....we couldn't ever get over maybe 40mph.....even less....on the curves. we knew in beautiful daylight, we were definately in danger, and endangering every other driver.... this was fucking scary..... but, we made it over devils slide..... and, we stopped for a cig. we revelled in the beauty of the landscape around us....the blues, browns, beiges, whites, and especially the asphalt but, we knew on the other side of devils slide, there was NO TURNING BACK....we were on our way to mexico, damnit! if we only knew, but, the beauty of it was, we didn't know. from that point on......it was all magic... the unknown was waiting for us.... that was the beauty that was the magic that was what was and always will be it's a feeling that can only be experienced leaving the known no amount of money, or even drugs....(as much as i love and admire and revere them) can do this that feeling was worth everything we endured or endangered ourselves for i don't honestly think either of us knew this going in this was special the quixote/sancho argument comes later on.....

THE TRIP TO MEXICO....PT. 1 (according to me!)

LORD — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 19:31:18 GMT

wait, wait......there's more to this. we bet ourselves, we could do this trip for about $500. the bet, from IKON, was for $2100 for our camp. so me and kurt solicited $500 from our friends and fellow DUSTFISH, on faith....that we could DO THIS THING....and, many people did contribute to THIS THING....all for our DUSTFISH CAMP!!! hell, that's better than we ever made off a FUNDRAISER PARTY....and, less work....(well, wait till you hear this) that was fucking BEAUTIFUL!!! even though people were begging us not to try this, they were contributing anyway..... lori told us she only knew of 2 people who tried it, and they both ended up in the hospital....or worse. but.....the bet was on and we were determined. DUSTFISH doesn't only RULE, but, it WINS!!!! of course, it does........ but, we HAD TO DO THIS! so......we thought "it's summer, we'll take the coast road all the way to mexico and be ok" travel only daylight and sleep on the beach at night......... WHAT A DISASTER!!!!!!!! fuck me. this is how we started. i finally gave up on kurt arriving to pick me up on the scooter at 5am. i fell asleep on the sofa, but awoke at about 10am strangely happy and alert.....kurt had blown cocaine up my nose......GOOD MORNING!!!!!!!!!! we both snorted more cocaine and kurt said "look how nicely i've packed the skooter, lord!" we had one sleeping bag and one sheet.....nothing else i couldn't carry, and, i had already said, "i don't want to be on the beach in mexico without you singing to me, so, i'll carry the guitar on my back" oh god!~ i can't tell you what that meant at this time.....it would kill a joke. so....i got on the back of the skooter, and we took off for highway 1. no argument about why weren't you here at 5 ? no bullshit....let's just get on the fucking road. it was a sunny beautiful day......... and we were on our way to mexico! without the guitar and the very very little crap we took with us (no jackets) we were already 100 lbs over the capacity for the scooter to carry. it was a pretty, pretty day.....sunshine and ocean and two loving friends on a skooter to where?

OK...I'M TRIPPIN!!!!!!!!!!! (part two)

LORD — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 17:57:32 GMT

so, anyway...... the acid and shrooms started wearing off and the house was full of tripping, beautiful, people....and, i walked into the kitchen and a bunch of people were standing there and Kurt was wrapping a straw to the bottom of a 'thing' he was making out of a piece of my roommate elaine's bicycle and asked me quite innocently, "lord? can i blow drugs up your asshole?" excuse me? omg....... kurt just asked if he could blow drugs up my asshole, and, "it's all over now baby blue" is on right now, and.....well...... he crushed up klonopin and i pulled my pants down and shoved a straw up my ass and he blew klonopin up my ass , as a test, to see if it worked....the insufflater...worked....then, he added an extension to the straw and pulled his pants down and self insufflated himself! it fucking worked!!! hallelujah..... let me digress here....... after a night of partying, before this night, kurt and i were laying together and i suggested that we get away from all this, and everyone, so we could just spend .... say....2 weeks....alone on a beach with 2 cases of mezcal under our butts and nothing more on our laps but pads and papers to write our thoughts.....and, love each other...we had decided to do this together. his retort was, "yeah" .... a lazy "yeah" . then, he said....."let's just go on my scooter" the words DANGER DANGER DANGER flashed against my eyes....over and over again....DANGER!!! and i said...."OK, let's go!" so, in the meantime.....we realized the 'insufflator' worked and kurt told me to get ready for the 2cb......so, i started to pull my pants down and he said "no....not here", so, i said "where?" he took me into the front room and i got on all fours in front of a house full of half naked and naked people, tripping their asses off, and pulled my pants down and i put the straw, filled with 2cb,of the insufflator up my ass and kurt blew 3 times up my ass..... i was coming down from the acid and shrooms i had taken after the DMT....and, frankly, was looking for another high anyway.... my biddness partner, and really best friend had bet us we couldn't or wouldn't get to mexico on kurt's scooter. we took the bet, and, after this....before the 2cb took over, i offered ikon for the last time to call off or cede the bet.... after saying it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen......he looked me right in the eye....and said...."no" not only did we have a desire, but, we had a 'bet' that benefieted our entire family!!! motherfucker! we're on our way....to mexico..... on a scooter.

OK....thank you jonny for the morrells.....THE SCOOTER TO MEXICO (the bet....the beginning) (part 1)

LORD — Thu, 24 Jan 2008 17:25:39 GMT

you can thank jonny, or not, for this, but, they reside in the velvet bag of ramsay's 'velvet glove' wine he gifted me this last time (and it was the best wine any of us have ever drank: THANK YOU, RAMSAY!) death has been in the aire, lately, as it always has been. GOD BLESS YOU BUFFALO BILL! we've all seen way too much of it lately..... so, this is going to be a story of challenging it. not like a game, but, really going for it. yummmmmmmm. i do like those morrells for this kinda story. well..it seems it's time, no? i'm tired and should go to bed....it's almost 9am and i haven't slept yet since my last dream and, i'm thinkin' i should start nibbling.... nibble...nibble... jonny said to pay particular respect to the black ones..... so, i will. ok...........that's delicious! some people don't like the taste of morrells.....i do, actually. DELICIOUS!!! jonny, the black ones are DELICIOUS!!!!! and, here we go.....before the type gets too pretty to type. jonny's birthday was coming up and he asked me if we could celebrate his party at my house. of course, i said "yes". he asked that it be a psychedelic party only. i said, "yes, of course", and put out the word....."no powders, unless it's 2cb". no speed, no coke, (i almost spelled 'no cock', but, that would be so wrong)......anyway... he wanted to start the party off early with he, Kurt, and I, smoking DMT together , alone, and then take acid, mushrooms, 2c's and all forms of psychedelics.... i agreed. and, that's how it was arranged. jonny arrived early as agreed and we waited, and waited, and waited for kurt to arrive. kurt doesn't like psychedelics. i knew this. he tends to, well, not like them. but, we waited and waited. the house began to fill up with people and finally, kurt arrived. he, me, and jonny went into the front room and closed the door and jonny brought out the pipe and the DMT. you could tell Kurt was not happy about this, but, couldn't say it. it was jonny's birthday. so the 3 of us closed the door, and smoked DMT. as usual, jonny asked, "you wanna nother hit?" before the atombomb went off and all i could see was lines of dna in blood and sunshine all around me.....everything....the walls, the sofas....the carpet.......kurt....jonny.....were all blood and sunshine molecules dancing madly in another world that was all blood and dna. IT WAS A BEAUTIFUL SIGHT!!!!! and, oh, what a feeling. i finally grabbed them both into my embrace and amidst the blood and sunshine said "happy birthday, fucker!" we opened the doors and everyone dropped acid. by that time, almost everyone was there already. the whole house was full of happiness and well wishes for jonny. the virgins had arrived in more ways than one. what a congress of beauty! we had liquid, blotter, pills, anything. this was jonny's birthday party! FUCKER! YOU BETTER BE TRIPPIN! and, we had 2cb. the only powder allowed. (ok....a little more morrells here....not that i'm not feelin' em, but....i want some more...specially for this story) (oh god, that's a cute one!) it was cute, but i ate it anyway. so.......we all took alot of acid and ate alot of shrooms.....and the screen is gettin' real pretty now. too pretty...lol wait... brb..... i have to respect those little black ones jonny.... WOW.... soon as i can i'll be right bacckkk wow! this is almost exactly where i wanna be tellin' this story.... the screen is still a little too pretty...and 'pale blue eyes' is on....i gotta get back to this in a few