August 12th, 2009.

A Porsche almost kills us. I’m amazed at how frenetic some drivers are – with an average speed on I-95 that must be about 75mph, to have something come racing up in your rearview mirror, careening from lane to lane before vanishing past us, squeaking past 18-wheelers and startled SUVs – he MUST have been going around 100mph.

Guitars — Of course, one of the big steps in moving is moving all the guitars. I sort of forgot I had all these. From foreground to back – the pseudo-dobro used on the Fifth Circle, my uncle’s old 12-string Ovation, my Cheetah-clad Alvarez, my red electric Peavey, my 5-string Spectre and my Seagull. Not pictured (in the front seat) are my Johnson and a baritone ukulele.

I’ve gone a hundred miles an hour at ground level three times. One with my Dad in his Austin Healey because he was showing off… and once in my own Saturn just to see if it could (barely, it starts shaking and complaining – which is how we KNOW that speeding ticket in Texas was BULLSHIT!)… and once while trying to keep up with a girl that I was smitten with. After about 5 seconds I wrote her off as insane and figured I’d catch up with her later…

Well, he’ll be sorry when speeding laws are enforced by orbital laser platforms. ZAP!

standing in the surf on the beach strumming G calling God… to come eat me… Cthulu?