Numbers

I stood in the sun using the pay phone. Instead of dropping coins into the slot, I pushed buttons, lots of them. There’s about 16 before you even start the number you’re calling. Its so easy to make an error and then you start all over again. No screen. The first several friends I called did not answer. Finally, I call Highlove, he answers and immediately responds: “We’ll come and get you… uh you can’t bring too much stuff… just a backpack… don’t worry about water or food we have plenty… call me back, I gotta work… talk to you later.”

Finally, I am able to see a light at the end of the tunnel of fog that had rolled into my brain at some point the night before when my Van became immobile. still is
Still, there’s not much to do. I go and get some lunch.

The energy crisis hoax

Attention world: Anytime anyone tells you that there is a energy crisis, they are lying, ignorant or both. First, the earth is a giant battery and second, the energy from the sun dwarfs our silly oily endeavors. Yes, you heard me right, oil has become a type of tarpit which keeps us on the ground and attached to a techologically obsolete transportation device whose footprint is bigger than a mushroom cloud. Please relax though, the cracks in the energy damn are getting greater and greater. The thought corralle cube has been strained beyond its capacity. Many, many minds have escaped the artificial resovoir of poisoned water and many more are on the way.

This concept is on the drawing table but is just one example of how laughable an 'energy crisis' is.

The energy crisis hoax is the modern equivalent to a 'flat earth'. It was an illusion. It is now in the process of decay. The Middle East debacle is an attempt to grab money/power before the very oily ground we stand on changes beyond recognition. It was a knee jerk reaction from the predatory collective of sociopaths which make up the US government.

The Nordoff Post

Every once in a while some one asks me what I do for a living. For instance, one of the camera men today queried: “What is it that you do for a living? If you don’t mind me asking.”
My response to this particular question today came out in the usual scattered kind of manner and this more than anything I say conveys the gist of it.
It is such a small and cool little town I live in. I am tempted to give it another name to throw off the interlopers. Hm. I do believe I shall call it Nordoff. Maybe I shall start a Nordoff Post as a kind of bizzarro counterpart to the Ojai Post of which I am a contributing writer, Anyway, tiny little town like we are all one giant Walton’s family here or something, so picture me, Didj, playing in front of Skip’s prominent front yard rock garden while there’s two camera dudes, a sound guy and the director. So I’m singing and vibrating away and thru and here and there and I can hear Scotty talking to Aaron up by the house where they have been refurbishing and repairing, cutting and gluing and painting and this distracts me in a way that might make for interesting shots. If you like glares I guess.