...on geography

"excuse me sir, could you tell me where baggage pick up is?", queries the man.

"where ya comin from", the gentleman responds

"saint louis."

"saint louis....is that a city"

"flight 6446" the bastard pipes up to the confused gentleman and the incredulous man.

"oh, raht over dere"

i turn to the man as we walk toward baggage claim and say, "I would wager that that man has never heard of a city called st. louis."

in a rich southern twang he responds, "why don't that surprise me in new york?"

indeed. glad to be home.

—the bastard

overheard on the aircraft

when was pearl harbor? 1947? or 1941?

I think it was 1942.

the bastard loves all of the benefits of a grade school education.

happy landings, jerks.

—the bastard

cold beer...who's ready...

...was the mighty vendors cry.

and the bastard was most assurantly ready.

the bastard waves his empty cup and the beer man cometh.

"you ready sir?"

"with a cry like that, how can I not be."

"it's a good cry. know what ahm sayin? it's because I'm always ready."

you gotta admire a man who has the courage of his convictions. I made sure to tip him. you gotta pay a man for giving you your material sometimes.

you know, the bastard doesn't go in for the baseball much but, he sure does love going to a game from time to time. especially if it's a new park. I kinda like thus town.

I'm ready. wow. some guy just hit a home run. nice!

—the bastard

...on arches and end results

there was some point, the bastard was sitting in a popeyes in the Atlanta airport.

and I thought to myself, "self, you really have to not fly in the summer. shit ain't worth it."





but as the bastard was flying over the Missouri river looking at the arch,

I didn't care anymore.

hell, the rental car place had my car in stock. and now that I have finished the job I came to st Louis to do, I feel alot better.

-the bastard

road

the bastard is hitting the road.

or at least he's hitting the airport.

off to saint louis again.

this time for business.

and if i told you that i feel like hell

it would be the understatement of the year.

happy frikkin trails.

—the bastard

...on holding it in

you know,

most of the time the bastard finds parking.

wherever he goes.

usually he finds it faster when the boy is with him.

what can I say, he's lucky.

but the last 24 hours were not the bastard's.

mostly thanks to a dirct to video release being filmed near my apartment called step up 3.

yes because step up's 1 and 2 had you jackasses clamoring for more

um

stepping?

so now the bastard rides the train home from the only place I could parking.

queens.

yes young shiteyes, the q borough is thorough.

and manhattan can eat a dick tonight. there I finally got it out of my system.

although i do regret telling my ladyfriend that if we lived in queens, I would be in bed right now. that ain't fair to her.

but manhattan can still go to hell.

it's enough to make me want to give the car to a homeless man and tell him, "here ya go jerk. I got your home RIGHT HERE."

—the bastard

...on boon

last night, the crew and I had dinner with the hair that conquered europe.

I owe him for all I know about wine.

and quickwittedness.

it's nice to go back in time and look at coins that were spent during the times of William the conquerer and Constantine and drink chateuneuf du pape.

makes a man feel classy. makes a bastard want to build a goddam wine cellar.

for the love of god montressor. for the love of god.

—the bastard

...on o henry

psst.

the bastard has to tell you a secret.

come closer.

ok.

by and large, the bastard wishes you well.

it's true. i mean, i'm gonna kick you when your down. really, i will.

but i wish you well.

so, here's how the story goes,

the bastard went to a high school reunion this weekend. yes, they had high schools back in the stone age too.


anyway, these are people i haven't seen in 20 plus years. and thanks to the virus that is facebook, i have gotten in touch with them. it's kind of refreshing in a fashion.

i went down there with my old friend high school. we've been friends since freshman year. she used to do my homework for me. and initially, this was going to be an entry about how after 20 years, these former classmates of mine, are just as full of life as they were when we were all young and awkward and that for a day among my peers, i didn't feel old.

and i don't.

but you don't get that story. the bastard has a new one. one that started when i left the party and logged onto facebook this morning.

one of my classmates from back in the day had shown up with his gear. he was gonna do the soundtrack.

nice and smooth.

"how's the sounds?, this is mah soundcheck music"

"it sounds pretty good. a little tinny in the highs"

"ah see that, lemme go fix"

this guy had 2 foot of dreadlocks. pleasant as the day is long. spuns tunes for 6 hours. never a dull sound.

high school had asked him where she would have known him from

"i was vocational", he replies (we went to a technical/vocational high school. aside from academia, the two groups never saw each other except in the hallways).

towards the end of the afternoon, i was making my goodbyes, thanking the organizers, and all of the trappings that comes with attempting to stay connected with people that i'm sorry i lost touch with.

and there's the deejay working his magic and i shake hands, thank him for some great sounds.

"so what you doin now?"

"me, i've been working in magazines. i'm the art director of killing stuff monthly"

"iz good to be in the arts. you know, sometimes, i need logos designed, do you have contact info?"

"umm yeah sure, you got a pen?"

"you know what, contact me through facebook, all my info is on there."

"sure thing, take care"

this morning, i'm waiting for the coffee. the bastard is always waiting for the coffee and the deejay accepted my friend request. and i get a gander of his pics from school.

flash back: there is this person i was dreading seeing. he hassled me all the time in school. bothered me to the point that some days, his name made it to the dinner table at night. this was the one peson i didn't want to see again.

flash forward: and there he is, the deejay as a boy, the guy who hassled me for four years. smiling at the prospect of a brighter future. and here i am with the knowledge that he didn't actually graduate. my mother worked at the school and had to close his file. he never finished. he had social problems. bit of a bully.

and now here he is in ethiopia, on haile selassie avenue.

at the university of trinindad and tobago.

at the foot of temples holy to those who follow the teachings of jah.

the bastard was floored. it reminded me of an o henry story called after 20 years. because this was after twenty years and this shit was a surprise ending for me too.

the bastard laughed.

and he felt sheepish.

because he forgot the basic tenent of the reunion. when you go to the 10 year reunion, it's not as interesting. people are at the top of their game.

top of the world.

nothing can stop you.

the 20 year reunion is more interesting. shit happens. it's when you find out how life altering circumstances can change a man.

make him something he wasn't before.

i know i'm someone i wasn't before.

i had 20 years to get that way.

and so did the deejay.

and i wish him well

—the bastard

...on rainy tuesdays

the boy goes home today.

this never gets easier.

—the bastard

it's winding down...

yeah,

it's winding down.

the boy goes home soon and things go back to the way they were.

which is still pretty good and all.

but

the bastard won't have his work buddy with him for a while.

and that's a bit of a bummer. but it was a good summer with the boy.

and he's looking forward to being a big brother.

you see,

I forgot to tell you something.

hope you were sitting down for that.

—the bastard

...on the contrary

no guy...

YOU suck.

local guy, "just saying".

—the bastard

tuesday tragic...

tuesday magic.

this delightful creature cut the line.

now, yours to ogle.

the bastard hopes that the gender reassignment surgery goes well for...ummm...her?

—the bastard

...on returns

kind of glad to be back.

kinda sad to be back.

kinda sad that my summer with the boy is almost over.

kinda wish I had a motorcycle again.

kinda kinda kinda. damn

—the bastard

...on tarpology

so it's pouring out now.

and the bastard isn't getting wet.

why?

because he brings extra tarps and rope.

you can never have too much rope.

—the bastard

p.s. well i did get a little wet digging a trench for my ladyfriend's brother in law but hey, it's a frikkin thunderstorm yo!

into the woods

quite frankly,

thoreau was full of crap.

tents are better than a cabin most of the time.

—the bastard

thursday afternoon majesty...

...special son of man edition


is it tragedy, or is it majesty?

—the bastard

...on vacations

you know

one of these days

the bastard will put the phone down.

not report it in

not tell you what's up.

but today ain't that day.

it's too good out to not say "it's good out".

so there.

—the bastard

Sunday morning photo essay

there are just some days where it's just all good.

—the bastard

...on the life aquatic

so my ladyfriend took a roll of the dice.

and found us a nice room by the ocean for the weekend.

we did this last year

and

it's a nice way for us to take the boy to the beach

but more importantly, it's a way to show the bastard and the boy the beach

her way

and we both appreciate it. we really do.

-the bastard

...on tall ones

on the way back from the dealership, we saw this guy drinking iced tea out of a 2 gallon tub.

it was majestic.

too bad the camera wasn't quicker.

—the bastard

...on the roar of the machine...the hat trick

this afternoon the bastard died a little inside.

red beard is getting his motorcycle license this summer and he has a little more

how you say,

liquidity.

so we went down the triumph dealership downtown and did some pricing and discussion.

and then i saw it.


right there.

you know, a day doesn't go by where i don't miss the scrambler. i wish i had the scratch to buy another one.

but you know, the day'll come.

funny thing is, the dealer and i spent most of the time talking about the merits of triumphs and bike accidents and the bastard finds that he doesn't worry about the hit, he worries about the next time the rubber meets the road.

soon motherfucker.

soon.

—the bastard