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big d. made it here yesterday afternoon.

the first thing i noticed as i came in the garage at my dad’s place were the 40 odd boxes that i shipped here from california. i didn’t want to spend any money on my boxes, so i pilfered the pine tree circle every other day and dug through the dumpster for boxes and bubble wrap. i had small boxes that weighed less than 10 pounds and big boxes that were 70 lbs. plus. i hauled them up the stairs to my car, filled it to the brim, drove them to the post office and ups, and repeated. it was a pain in the ass, and not cheap. i think i spent over a grand on shipping boxes, but that was a great deal less than renting a truck.

i enter the garage tired, frazzled, sweaty, smelly, my stomach in a tenuous state. that morning there was no coffee in pecos (surprise, surprise) so i headed up the road a bit to a gas station. the coffee in there looked worse than the swill they were giving away at the motel 6, so i went into the subway for an iced tea. i made the mistake of opting for “sweet tea” since, shit, i was in the south, but the subway sweet tea was some bullshit high-fructose candy nonsense that i poured out a few miles down the road. later that day i stopped for a sonic burger and tater tots because, as a midwesterner, i do love a good tater tot. these fucking tater tots were twice as salty as the sweet tea was sweet. who the fuck is eating this shit? there’s no subtlety, it’s just tastebud numbing carcinogen after tastebud numbing carcinogen. cheap shitty shit.

so i’m fried and full of shitty sweet tea and oozing sodium from the tots and i see my boxes, my labor, my albatross for the last few months. i think most of the boxes were shipped the cheapest rate possible, which, i gather, is to drag them behind the trucks for 1,500 miles. tape bursting off, boxes smashed, shit falling out. it looked like somebody ate all my boxes smothered in hot sauce, washed them down with a dozen beers, and shit them out on my dad’s garage floor.

here’s the box my drums arrived in. this is one of the better ones.

i counted them today, and they’re all here, but i did notice some juniper berries scattered everywhere. looks like the spice box ruptured. i’m truly afraid to open some of them, but i’m going to have to re-box before the trip down to baton rouge. hopefully all my really expensive one of a kind knick-knacks are intact. russian nestling dolls, porcelain eggs, crystals.

next time i will burn all of my shit and buy new shit when i get there and rob a fucking train to pay for it all.

dallas is good. lefty is running and playing and chewing and happy.

i’m sleeping and eating good and getting prepared for more.

here’s the street in front of my dad’s house.

it’s one of those neighborhoods where it would take you six or seven years to be able to reliably find your house if you came home drunk. on the walk where i took this picture i tried to re-enter a very similar looking home. but, it’s hitting the spot right now. sitting out back on a humid night watching a thunderstorm blow through sipping on a silver bullet feels like i’m back in high school. call me a masochist, but i love hot, humid nights. makes me feel sixteen again.

here’s the driving range behind my dad’s place.

it’s open late. i took my woods that traveled with me from l.a. in my trunk because they were too long to fit in any of my boxes over there last night around ten and hit a small bucket. still got it.

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