at doc's, she got a three dollar cookbook and i got a t-shirt. terry and i are gonna fall by recycled before tomorrow night's HIO extravaganza at j&j's pizza in denton, but i've got so many review cd's to listen to that it doesn't really make sense to be dropping a lot of dosh on vinyl right now.
my sweetie calls camp bowie east of montgomery street "the curmudgeon zone" because as soon as we pass that threshold, i start bitchin', and i don't stop 'til we're back at home. i know life is change, blah blah blah, i just don't dig the way it feels now. maybe that's one reason why these days, we only go out when i'm playing.
we were gonna heat up spaghetti sauce when we got home but the walk made us hungry, so we got turkey subs at the great outdoors, which we carried with us to lola's. 'twas good seeing elvis tending bar on the patio, and william and lu and mike gunby and tim burt from the old wreck room crew, as well as chris maunder, the host with the most from the moon.
scott sounded great with his new (to me at least) band with gary grammer on harp and "dirt" on lead guitar. still kinda felt like "these are not my people" for the most part. nobody's fault; our life is just a lot different now than when we usedta hang at the wreck two or three nights a week.
ran into jesse the painter outside; he's gonna come over when i'm off next thursday and i'm gonna start teaching him the basics of guitar. we stopped by the patch of ground where the wreck room used to be and i got sentimental. went by the little house where my sweetie used to live. i'll be even sadder when that's no longer standing.