After my life burned to hell in 2011, I nearly moved to Lexington, Virginia to live above a god damn book store or something. My cousin lived there at the time. My plan was to get some piece of shit studio with a wood stove and haunt the town at night with that poor son of a bitch. I don’t regret moving to Austin one bit, but I think about Lexington sometimes, and what it would have been like.

My grandfather is buried there in the same cemetery as Stonewall Jackson (whose grave is covered in lemons, I always remember).

I don’t know. I miss Virginia. I was just there. Maybe I can’t help but be a Virginian.

I miss my father too. I told him last night that if I could, I would build a cabin on his property and live there forever. When I woke up this morning he had written back saying, “If you build it, you can.” He said he loved me too.

Well: here I am, a twenty-seven-year-old man, and I’m about to drink some old-ass water and watch The Muppet Christmas Carol in the middle of May. My cat is pissed off because I’m counting his calories and everyone I want to see right now is either asleep or three thousand miles away.

Jesus lord! I’ll tell you, as long as I’ve lived, I have not found another person besides my cousin who will stay up all night doing absolutely nothing with me. I miss that a whole bunch. It isn’t even midnight yet and I have asked practically all of Oakland to wander in the dark with me, and every single person has told me they are “seconds away from falling asleep.”

Man.

FOR THE RECORD: I think the “point” of this thing is friendship.

Really!

And by “this thing” of course I mean the whole blinking / breathing affair we call LIFE, baby!!!

. . . I am leaving soon. I am going to go somewhere else.

This old dog is tired.

I’m sick of this cafeteria food.

And so on.

As much as I miss Virginia, there is no place for me there anymore. I will probably roam the Pacific Northwest until the first mushroom cloud hits Washington, D.C.

And then what is anyone’s guess.

Whichever mass grave still has room for me, I reckon!!

Why can’t I declare myself legally dead? Why can’t I tell some government agency, “That’s all right—I won’t be needing anything ever again. Please, for all intents and purposes, I am dead now. Do not attempt to call me or send me mail. Thanks for everything, I guess. So long.”

I am, yes, going to say some things on this very website tomorrow. None of it will be of consequence. Though, hell, what else is new?

Listen: I’m tired of having someone else sign my checks. I want to be friends with people! I want to run around like a god dang junkyard dog.

Maybe I’ll talk about that tomorrow!

Maybe I’ll talk about my plans—and maybe it won’t be awful!

(What are my plans???)

((I don’t know???))

(((I have a general idea~~)))

OK GOOD-NIGHT ☆ミ

What’s a guy supposed to do when he misses his friends????

Often I’ll meet someone who comes off like they had to unplug themselves from the god damn wall before they left the house if’n you catch my meaning

As my dear friend Neil Smith put it before he departed for Austin: “Everyone I know in California is sad and broke.”