V journal 8/25

Note: I'm posting this the same night from my Mom's house. I'm so
stoked. I am so zone with my poetry. I just wrote "Grizzled Soul" which
I guarantee you is one of the best poems of our decade. You're probably
laughing but wait ten years and you won't be laughing. And, trust me,
I'm no desperate fool. I have a very zen attitude toward the whole
thing. I can't help being so cool.

8/25/04: I'm at my friend Cameron's house. We're about to take a few
knife hits, softened by Orange Juice straight from the jug. These two
monkeys are playing some guts and glory, robots and aliens Playstation
game. It's like observing the behavior of some neanderthal tribe.
There's even a dijeri-dijeri-doo in the room. I love my fellow
pot-heads. Cameron's their dread lord. He's probably Ashland's most
experienced stoner. He also happens to be my oldest college friend.
He's tall and pale. He's friendly and witty, if somewhat superficial.
He has a high-pitched giggle and is at times one with the flow. He
drives a red vintage Chevy-pickup, the perfect car for a road trip. He
once told me that he was a Shakespearean actor before he started his
career as a pot-head. I'll betchya there's a solid grain of truth in
that. Cameron isn't the type to tell an outright lie.
What else is new? I played tennis in the rain con mi amigo Emerick
last night. Poor old guy almost slipped and fell. He likes to have a
hand-rolled cigarette before tennis and racquetball. He's short with
with younger-brother characteristics, something of a rebel. He's very
educated with advanced social skills. He's a true friend. Today, he
gave me a free steak burrito for lunch(he's half-owner of the
coffeehouse.)