Hard to get around to writing.

I used to work a lot. That's why I wrote a lot. I was at work all the time. I kept my work face on and I was lonely. Writing was my only chance to be myself. I would come home and write, falling asleep with my fingers on the keyboard. After I got fired, I thought about it for a while and decided, fuck it. I'm not looking for another job. Now, I have to remember to take time off from not doing much and be sure to keep to myself and do nothing. It's hard. There's a lot to do and that can distract me from keeping to myself and refusing to do any goddam thing. I need that though. It really helps.

I ran into a guy I helped at my old job. He told me he felt safe talking to me. He asked me to help him with his drug problem. He's a meth addict. Last night he called me very late. He was in a motel room with his boyfriend. They'd been shooting meth for several days and they were starting to come down. He was frantic to be told he'd be all right. He wanted to tell me all of his problems. Some of his problems were hallucinations. He kind of knew that. He kept calling me. Finally, a little before sunrise he made it into the hospital. He begged for help and they took him in and called his mom.

I'm hoping he lives through this latest relapse. I told him I loved him. I told him he would be alright but it might take a while.

This weekend I went and saw the Flaming Groovies in their home town of San Francisco. I stayed in San Francisco. I had terrific visits with wonderful old friends. I came home and played music with my new friend. I've been traveling. I would travel more but I got fucked on taxes. Fucking taxes. Another new friend owns a good tattoo shop. I go in to say hello and walk out with a new tattoo. It's a painful and expensive way to go visiting but it's fun all the same. My music friend got tickets to see the Drive By Truckers this weekend. I've seen more good bands lately than I'd see in ten years working. I don't even like to see live music. Too many people. Too much noise. I have to stay home by myself for a couple days afterwards. It's still worth it, like the tattoos are worth it. I have a happy little swallow on the back of my left hand. I'm free as a fucking bird.