Man, back in Oakland! I feel real good about it. Hell, I hardly ever feel good about anything. And hey: Don’t get me wrong . . . it ain’t like I’m happy! And thank god for that, because lord knows I don’t want anything to do with that. I wouldn’t know what to do with the stuff if I ever got my hands on it anyway. I reckon I’d probably just take it out back and send it to heaven.

Anyway: I got me a job at a place, and I go to that place and do a thing every day except Saturday and Sunday. I guess that’s how it goes. I absolutely do not dread going to work at all, so maybe that’s something. I work with four beautiful self-effacing cynics, so hey, that is for sure something.

It has taken me all of five days to confirm in my heart and soul that 90% of Portland was a complete waste of time. Oh well. In ‘No Country For Old Men,’ a sheriff says to Tommy Lee Jones: “Can’t stop what’s coming.” Portland is in the past now, and so I will say to all of you: “Can’t stop what’s [already come].” Yeah. Regret is dumb as hell and a real waste of time. You let it pass through you, and then you get on with the thing. And anyway I don’t exactly regret Portland . . . I met a lot of fine people, and got to experience snow and rain again, and so on. Too bad the rest of it revolved around a totally inverted sleep schedule, a severe vitamin D deficiency, a lot of flakery, and a seeming eternity of darkness and loneliness (oh, wait . . . this part continues on even now, and will continue on till the grave  ((hence “eternity” (lol))).

Last night McCune picked me up and we went to a secret place where you pay $12 and they give you all the tacos you can eat. Along with my beautiful friends from the Pipehouse, we discussed the upcoming PIPEFEST III video, which I reckon we’ll start shooting soon since ol PIPEFEST III (yes, all caps) is happening sometime in May.

To The Belgians I say: If you wanna show up again, then please do. I promise I won’t be (as much of) a sludge-sucking fucked-out world-weary idiot this year. I’ll be all right, or as close to all right as possible anyway. You can even stay with me. I’ll have a house by then so long as someone doesn’t kill me, or I don’t kill myself, or the Western world isn’t finally wiped out in a nuclear holocaust. I think I’ll also have a motorcycle too. I can only ride around with one of you at a time though.

Finally: My friend Violet asked me to “do something” with her this weekend. Maybe we’ll go to the Irish pub I used to work at. Maybe not!

Well: That’s it. I’m in Oakland. Are you in Oakland? If you are, then we’d both be in Oakland. Wouldn’t that be nice??