Prison Bound by Social Distortion
I feel pretty disconnected right now. Its nothing really new, just a sort of sense of loneliness and sadness. But it can be brutal, the sitting and the just being sick of being alone. Laying down with the dog, and no one else drives me up the wall.
Found out that this other guy I know got a DUI a while ago. I think that is too bad. I think it is something that when things are bad they come in threes or tens or whatever. I have had a lot of friends get busted for DUI, and man I hate it. No matter who they are I dislike it. I mean big Gene and his staff work wonders, but at the end of the day that sort of thing is never good. We all live secret lives of shame, and that sort of thing is never wanted.
So there is no way to not talk about the phone calls from the other night. They were awesome. I think that the only reason I like calls like that is because I have made them. The crap I put on the Sunspot answering machine is totally embarrasing.
On the iPod, my favorite Guns and Roses song came on…Out to get me. Oh, that was just Axl Rose at the height of what he had going for him. He maybe weighed 110 pounds, but that guy wanted to fight everyone, and so few bands today want to fight anyone.
I got the advance press materials for the Scorsese Rolling Stone movie. Oh, I never dug that band before…but holy crap do I dig them now.
I guess there was a big Silicon Valley dinner tonight at City Grille. Lots of people told me they were invited, and I wasn’t. I guess that knowledge just sort of iced the thing for me. I feel bad for Andy, as this is the first time I think I was aware of his stepping out into the spotlight, and the CW communication appears to be nil at this point.
I finally got a doctor, the lady at Asprius who is helping me in the program I am in, told me that I am 36 and it is time. So that is a strange sensation. I have a will, but I gotta change it. I do not think that Amanda or Jackie are in need of any of this stuff. Its funny, the money I die is going somewhere obvious, it really is about the notebooks.
Is that morbid to think like that?
