PLEASE HOLD MY HAND AS I CROSS THE fucking HIGHWAY. . .

. . . as another gas-guzzling pickup roars up Highway 50 in front of the vacant lot on which I stand, hugging the Tree of Life. [I’m hugging the Tree of Life, the pickup isn’t hugging it.]

The Tree of Life is just a clusterfuck of cottonweed trees.

The gentle breeze picks up trash from the mudder-fuckin’ twuck and throws it all over the street.

But does the ghost driver come back to clean up the mess?

Does he realize when he gets to dump hill, there are more than a few amajon boxes missing from his twuck bed? NO, f#%k NO.

I raise my middle finger to the Battle Born Blue sky and scream: “¡A- CHOO!”

From the litter (cat, papers, WalMartian bags, cardboard, cigarette butts) I am picking up amongst the willows, cattails and ancient sage is a contest challenge, LONGEST RUN ON SENTENCE EVER. Hey, wait a minute, I won this contest (nine)(ninety) (days/weeks/months) ago.

It’s so f*@!g hard to keep track of time when it isn’t linear anymore.

I pull my laptop from my shirt pocket and “Eureka,” “Siri” “Alexa”, there it is:

Sitting at his campfire — which is finally the final remains of the last wildfire ever f*%g California is going to share with the rest of the country and especially Nevada when we just want to to go to Lake Tahoe with our dogs and kids and pick- up-your-own-god-damn litter, California and stop destroying the forests, sending pobre osos to the cities, keep your ranchers and your happy cows, mad cows, and stupid-ass too-fast-in-the-fast-lane drivers on your side of the border wall (the one between U.S., eNVy and you) and your Californication where you overregulate/underregulate and allow farmers to grow too-heavy-on-water usage crops like avocados and almonds — between his phucker-only-runs-downhill rust-bucket truck and his dilapidated, used to be owned by a methhead army of skinheads’ trailer, Alex Anderson Butten Beggar Carlson Freeman Gustanhofferleaken lacklusterly toys with the embers of the dying fire while listening to his favorite instrumental on the 59-year-old 8-track tape in the Found on Road Dead, Fix or Repair Daily truck “Earschplittenloudenboomer” by Steppenwolf, or was it Nigel Wolf?

(to be cont’d)

update: 1/17/22: martin luther king day.

two months later.

redundancy is setting in.

alan took me by the hand, helped me through a rough patch.

then hurled me into oncoming traffic : aka, Martin French, Pablo Pereyra, Smillew Rahcuef, Don Drewniak, who just showed up yesterday. finally.

& many more.

what to do now that i’m older and wiser? three years younger than the man who’s like a father figure to me?

fight city hall? of course.

join with others to compel Ev Williams to share the wealth? por supuesto.