yellow makes my friend paco horny, but he’s afraid of horses …

this man has a simple yet effective betting strategy he calls ‘bet the favorites across the board.’

finished.

time for a breckenridge vanilla porter.

and a baby.

loaded up and leaving. from here on out, it’s all dirty south all the time.

big sky country in garland …

plano’s an upscale community of refined elegance, which i think is clear …

here’s lewisville’s piece of shit …

they do things a little differently in frisco …

north dallas … may your sprinkler systems and soaker hoses always be dewy.

***

for anyone concerned about big kev who, as you all know, has pneumonia, i spoke with him earlier today and “the pain is almost gone” but he “still gets the shakes in the morning” but thinks “that’s probably because i’ve been drinking a lot of coffee.” he is also “getting a little funny, kinda weird and fuzzy in the afternoon” but he just “eats something and feels a little better.” we’re gonna get together tomorrow to, again in his words, “grab a few drinks in the hotel lobby.” he is obviously still alive, though i’m starting to wonder why.

for those of you who know big kev, he threw one of his famous shit fits when i grilled him about not working too hard. he finally pulled out his pattented “ok, i gotta go, bye” move. it was similar to the morining i picked him up at his place in topanga to take him to the airport where he was flying – all expenses paid no less – to honduras for a few weeks. he wasn’t packed yet, and threw a shit fit for the ages that climaxed with the infamous “i don’t wanna get on an airplane! i don’t wanna go to honduras!” tantrum.

buck up big camper …

i think the real reason i’m so sensitive to all this is because pneumonia killed jim henson, which means pneumonia killed the muppets, and i’ll be damned if i’m going to fuck around with anything that kills muppets. the thought of it curves my spine … fozzie hacking up blood. kermit lying shivering in a pool of sweat on the cool tile floor. miss piggy darkening into a dusky shade of purple. rowlf the dog losing hair by the fistful. harrowing shit.

on a lighter muppet note, i once saw my good friend lisa tremain, on stage with the readers, ask the crowd to raise their hands and “tell me who your favorite muppet is, and you MUST defend your answer!” i didn’t get called on that night, but i’d have to say … gonzo the great. because he’s the only one.

i have failed …

god help the working man.

so, previously today, went swimming, went out for tex-mex (easily the best tex-mex i’ve ever had. seriously, anamia’s in the north suburbs of dallas … superb), had a few beers, walking the dog … another day in paradise. i get home and give big kev a call:

big kev: “hello?”

lil’ kev: “big kev!”

b: “yeah?”

l: “it’s me, man, lil’ kev! how are you doing?”

b: “i am not doing good, man.”

l: “what’s up man? is it work? are you sick?”

b: “I’ve got pneumonia.”

l: “pneumonia?”

b: “yeah, i just got back from the doctors. i’ve got, like, four prescriptions and i’ve got pneumonia.”

big kev’s been in dallas for less then 24 hours, he’s got pneumonia. fucking jack ass …

in all seriousness, pneumonia can kill ya. i informed big kev of that, cause he’s old rural pennsylvania country boy stock and, even though he takes pictures with the fancy people in los scandalous and philly and nyc, he’s still that particular kind of hick who will literally work himself to death. he says he’s gotta lay low for two days, doctor’s orders, although he mentioned he had to go to the airport tomorrow and do this that and the other thing on monday … fucking jack ass.

so now i’m on triage. my duties for the next 48 hours involve keeping big kev’s stupid ass from doing anything to jeopardize his life. and once i determined that pneumonia was not contagious, i was completely motivated to lend my services to this venture.

i’m calling him in the morning … first of all, i am not letting him drive to the airport under any circumstances. maybe go hang out with him at his hotel and watch a movie or something. throw some tequila shots back and dip into those narcs. kidding of course … this is a candy striper kind of session (no hand jobs) and it’s all business from here on out.

you know, you leave your home, you set out on a new adventure, you try to carve out a new landscape for yourself, make a fresh start, and inevitably, you’re back to saving lives. i can’t escape it … some of us are just born healers. i don’t know why i ever try to fight it. i have been touched. clearly. i have. really, i’ve been touched. hard in some places, too. i’ve got the scars to prove it. and bruises! full of fucking bruises …

big kev is in dallas for work. gonna be here for two weeks. i, however … five short days. so i gotsa run big kev down quick.

contact with the outside world is imminent.

goodbye, cruel shitter tank.

hello, old life.

running and biking and swimming each and every day at the coppell ymca. i typically despise cardio. for some reason, i’m totally jazzed with it now. can’t get enough. almost erotic in its allure. i can’t wait to get to the y every day. i think i’m experiencing that runner’s high they talk about. it’s new … i like it. i haven’t done so much cardio since i was running track in 8th grade. as i write this, i can clearly see this information appearing in my obit after i drop dead in the upstairs cardio room of the coppell ymca. may there be a lovely cpr certified lass on the elliptical across from me who whose paramedic yet tender embraces transition me to the other side. please don’t talk about me when i’m gone …

luckily, there is the best grocery store on earth in the dallas area (and you know you’re losing your edge when you cite a grocery store as a major highlight of a town. the thrill is gone people … pass the calabaza.) the place is called central market and it’s like a less pretentious whole foods attached to a massive farmer’s market. they have everything … things i’ve never seen. last time i was in there i counted over 15 melons. lost count there were so many god damn melons. sure, everybody knows cantalopue, honeydew, watermelon, whatever. pedestrian fare. try hami melon. stacked to the ceiling. have you ever had hami melon? i never had either. it’s fucking delicious. the difference between a hami melon and a honeydew is like the difference between a beefsteak tomato and the kind you get at ralphs that give you salmonella. central market kicks ass up and down.

so i’m cooking tomorrow. and pretty soon i’ll be goin’ down south for good. i can smell it. i’ve started thinking of some home improvements i’m going to make when i get down there. getting exciting.

ps – go see batman. last movie i saw that was that good, in that way, was the departed. batman blew me away. i wasn’t expecting batman to blow me away, but batman fucking blew me away. go see batman go go go.

tecate with lime and salt will forever remind me of topanga much the same way sierra nevada will always remind me of pacifica, california and the sea horse saloon, and natural light will always remind me of decatur, il. can you still buy natural light? i haven’t seen it in probably fifteen years. talk about shitty beer. natural light. the beer with the taste for food. if you drink natural light and are over sixteen years old you should be automatically disenfranchised.

before the bar we went to a velodrome in frisco, which was my first velodrome experience. it was interesting. pretty cool, pretty mellow. kind of like a quieter, more educated nascar race. no crashes, though.

here’s some pictures from a kroger in garland. where’s waldo?

today has no plan yet, and it’s after 2. lunch and shower and maybe a movie.