goad on the road ... days 2 and 3
The mighty jimgoad.net server is working again today. It blew up yesterday, undoubtedly sending cyber-shrapnel through the hearts and minds of my misguided minions.
Yesterday was the first day sans a diary entry since I started sharing daily morsels of myself with you more than three months ago. For this, I feel equal measures of shame, remorse, contempt, panache, chutzpah, and a newfound dash of you-go-grrrl sass.
I'm leaving LA this afternoon after two nights spent sleeping in Adam Parfrey's slave quarters, on a tiny bed where little ants crawled over my supple, inviting torso. I had two meetings with a British gent who discussed the possibility of turning Shit Magnet into a film.
From this distance, Portland appears to be the insignificant cow pie in a corn field I suspected it was before moving there in '94. And yet I keep going back to it like a battered wife who thinks it'll change.
Outside the window, a brook babbles, a wind whispers, and a jacaranda tree softly sways like a hooker offering a discount price for half-and-half. There is so much I'd like to share with you...even expose to you as if you were a dermatologist and I were showing you a skin rash...but for now I must draw the blinds and focus inwardly.
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I'll be at Bumbershoot in Seattle tomorrow from 12:30-1PM on the "Starbucks Ink Spot Stage," or something like that.
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The new Trucker Fags is here.
