September 26, 2003

I did these things

* I spent the night sleeping in a tree more than once.

* I saw a Fourth of July fireworks show at Memorial Stadium in Savannah while stoned out of my mind on mushroom tea. It was spectactular.

* I saw every University of Georgia home football game from "The Tracks" the entire time I attended as a student. I never saw the inside of Sanford Stadium until years later.

* I once woke up around noon in a room full of nekkid people and couldn't remember where I left my guitar. I didn't even think about my car at the time. Once I found I guitar, I realized that I had no idea where my car was.

* I once worked 32 hours straight at the plant and logged my hours on a timesheet. I was told by my boss NEVER to do that again. He didn't mean "don't work 32 straight hours." He meant don't ever put those hours on a timesheet again. I was expected to do it, but I also was expected to lie about doing it.

* I am NOT a good liar.

* I DID see the sun rise over the Atlantic Ocean and watch it set over the Gulf of Mexico in the same day. That ain't difficult to do in Key West, Florida.

* I was with TWO wimmen in a gay bar in Key West. They dared me to take my clothes off and let them dress me in a sarong. I walked out of there wearing TWO sarongs, both tastefully tied, with one of the wimmen carrying my pants. I looked like the King of Siam. (If a certain South Carolina woman makes it to the blogger-meet, she can verify that story. She tied the top sarong.)

* As I said before: I am NOT a good liar.

* Hell, I don't have to be a good liar. I tend to have adventures other people don't.

* I've been shot at and not hit. I was minding my own business, taking a piss behind some guy's truck on River Street, and he saw me. The drunken bastard thought I was breaking into his vehicle, so he came charging up the ramp firing some pissant gun that he probably couldn't hit a #3 washtub with from point-blank range when he was sober. I didn't know what was going on until he ran up, still clicking the trigger on an empty gun. I asked, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU, MAN?" as I stuffed Roscoe back in my pants and prepared to kick that fuckhead in the nuts and beat the living shit out of him if he tried to reload. "Duh... I dunno..." He tried to give me $20 after that, and I told him to go fuck himself and buy a better gun.

* I once did my best imitation of a mystic Native American dance around a campfire one night high, and I DO MEAN HIGH, in the mountains with a bowie knife in my hand. My friends became worried about me. But I didn't fall in the fire or stab myself, so they went to sleep while I was still dancing.

* I am making notes to put all of the shit I've done into a novel. I have the beginning and the middle down pat.

I'm still working on the end.