Vinnie's back.

And I've been gone too long. This is not going to be long because I'm on an early-rise program (that way the bad juju can't get me). Finally everybody left, and I'm able to return to my monotonous, predictable life of coffee, cigarettes, house-painting and baby.

I've decided to work on training baby to be a watchdog, instead of a guard dog (cause there's a difference). A watch dog barks at the sound of an intruder to the house. A guard dog puts him in the ground. Once i'm awake I can do that myself (lol).

I powerwashed the houser this weekend. What a goddamn stressful experience that was. I had meant to be low-key about the whole thing, but when I pull-started the machine (it's GAS) it was so loud, I may as well have been in a bi-plane. I started the wash down in the breezeway on 21st st., and the water jet was taking off dirt, grime, airborne pollution, paint chips, pieces of house... Everything was blowing 30 feet away onto the neigbours place, and the parked cars on the street. I was stripped down to shorts and sandals, soaking wet, swearing - going up and down the ladder (which was too short). So much fucking crap came off the house i had to wash most of Alan's place after - and then there was 500 gallons of black water pooled down in his shed entrance, swirling with branches, paint chips and pigeon skeletons. And that was only one small part of the whole three day job. This thing is so massive.

But I got the star quaterback flying in from Montreal. We're gonna be PENDEJOS EN CONTROL, gussying up the old whore of a house , just like we did back in our reefer-smoking, plalteau-painters co-op days of youthful; misadventure. Wiyth terry on the crew i feel we shall be invincible.

"Give me ten divisions of men like that, and our problems here will soon be over."

"Ahhhhhhh! The puppies...!!!"

"Are you leaving? Cause I'm COMING."

Well, there's sure been a lot of laughs the last few days. Every guy I know is taking some shade of ass-kicking this Summer - so I don't feel too bad anymore. And it turns out the dead whale was just another 1/4 mile to the north. We'd have smelled it if we were downwind. Too bad. It's probably just a skeleton by now. I make light of all that because I can't really deal with a blue whale getting run over by a tanker and washing up in Marin County. I can only deal with the animal apocalypse through cruel humor, set off like a hand grenade in a crowd of people.

Vinnie's baclk alright, and he's half out of his head from the paint fumes - or the stench of some personalities around these parts.