The morning after

The bar we call "Club Blackout" is always a dicey affair. I just had a call from my pal who wanted to play basketball. I looked at the number in my caller I.D. and just let it ring. I have about as much strength in me right now as the scorpion my grandfather caught, encased in plastic and turned into a paperweight. It's sitting on my table in front of me right now, doing exactly the same thing as it's done for the twenty-or-so odd years I've owned it. Nothin'.

It's been three months since I saw Q-dog in the flesh, and near five years since I caught sight of Mindfuck. Fjordborg lives practically next door, and wanted to go somewhere last night, instead of nothin', which was a good idea at the time, but you wouldn't want to be a bystander in the Casa Aloha vomitorium afterwards, trust me. But one of our pals was just back from a movie shoot in Cambodia, and I wanted to talk...I mean, how often do you get a first hand account of Cambodia?

And the rest of you...I've probably never met, but I am aware of your eyes, reading...and your hungry hungry brains thinking, not to mention plotting. All of this happens for free. Fjord -broadcast to any computer connected to anything, anywhere. We get readers from New Zealand, Korea, Europe and Alaska, and like anyone, I want more. I want Fjord on every cell phone, in every sidekick, on every television, and every billboard across the globe. And don't think it won't happen, we're pretty smart.

But on this little Sunday, they've closed down Hollywood Boulevard, (right outside the window) and are having a parade. I don't know why, but it's a small reminder that the real world goes on every day, and why I should spend less time with my head in a computer. I probably won't, but it's nice to have options. Oh yeah - fix your clocks, it's an hour earlier than yer used to.