It's been an interesting New Years Eve afternoon here on my dead end street. Daniel mentioned smoked duck & sausage pasta with goat cheese at Ricatonie's down in Florence, AL. Hell yea!

He said he wanted to fall off into a bucket of titties and come up sucking his thumb. I have no idea what that means, and then we talked about Colaids.

Then my friend came by, sat himself down in Daniel's chair, scrolling through his phone.

Lanie rocking on the big screen. Door open, fresh air blowin all around us and it's a damned fine day in southern Tennessee.

Daniel split after my friend arrived, concerned about a contact high messing with his very respectable job in this county. I understand completely.

Then, what I thought was a total stranger, parked in front of my house, and walked through the door. He was intent, and sat right down in my empty chair.

He turned out to be the homeless guy I helped out a couple of years ago. I didn't recognize him at first, he was well dressed and looked good. We then spent the afternoon together today, laughing and getting stoned.

The story is, I was coming back from the Park one morning, when I saw this guy walking with a backpack, he looked down and out and I pulled over and asked if he needed help, and he did.

I brought him back over to my place, let him take a shower and change into the clean clothes he had in his backpack. I gave him food, respect, and dignity, because I've been in his place, and I know what it means to have those things, when you're down!

I then gave him my sweet little truck setup to crash in for the night. He was gone in the morning...

And here he shows up today, New Years Eve, with a vehicle of his own, not in need of anything, and an intent stare that puzzles me. We sat face to face at first, staring at each other for a long time, not saying a word, then suddenly we both smiled!

He has now disappeared into the night, and I can't even remember his name. Just a ghost from the past that dropped by to say thanks. You're welcome, and Happy New Years.

Daniel and I played us some poker last night, and had a wonderful FaceTime with my beautiful grand-daughter Shelby, down in Florida.

It was like she was sitting right here at the table with us! We talked about cutting boards and roller pins. Then she was gone, and we just faded into the night, the amazing Shelby had left the house. The table is now scattered with chips and I think I lost.

Then we drove up to Amish country where I picked up a hand made cutting board and rolling pin for my FGD. Unfortunately, this whole town is shut down until Tuesday, so I'll pick up my grand-mothers blanket then, all freshly dry cleaned, along with a box big enough to hold everything, and ship them down to her next week.

Daniel is walking over to his house now, to get a tape measure, so we can measure this beautiful board. Shelby has a 20.5 by 14.75 by 1.25 inches thick cutting board, and a 17.75 long by 2.75 diameter rolling pin, coming her way in the best box we can find.

Both created by an Amish craftsman. These are one of a kind originals.

I love my grand-daughter Shelby, so much. I'm back home and I miss her, big time. She gets me, and I get her. Our talks are real, no bullshit, and I can share every aspect of my life with her, and she does the same with me.

Who ever grabs the heart of the most amazing woman I have ever known, is in for a hell of a ride, to the end.

And she has the same lazy right eye, as I do.

Daniel made chicken and dumplings, tonight. I stirred the pot, and they were amazing. He used the big old cutting board and rolling pin he bought from his Amish friend up North. He also got his boys a smaller, but great, version for Christmas.

It was so damn good I ate three bowls. Right now he's running a bowl up to Mary, the hottie running the liquor store. Hmmm, life in the South is good, and Daniel made big points at the Store.

I've been thinking about my amazing grand-daughter Shelby, all the way home today. I've watched her strut through life with sas, confidence and style. She is truly an amazing woman.

I've listened in on conference calls across two jobs, and her eloquence and command of her position, is something to behold. As she reined in a new partnership with a rich client and another job, the words that poured from her lovely mouth were like technical honey.

I'm a tech guy, and I know what's involved in creating a website and a platform, but she was presenting a vision to this client that was pure brilliance. The very rich savvy woman was so overwhelmed by my Shelby, that she hired her.

Shelby is a force of nature. She has attracted and maintained relationships with amazing men. A Marine sniper, a Blue Angel pilot, the hottest artist and designer in the South, a Navy commander, a world class piano player, and a competitive body builder. I've met them all, except the pilot who died in that crash. And they all still love her! I listened to the recent phone call from Italy where Andy is stationed, and this badass big Navy ship captain is on his knees, and still in love with her.

I played poker with Shelby last night, and I saw her competitive side come out, she don't like to lose! She was like this hard ass poker player, with a glimmer in her eye, that said I'm going to kick your butt!

As it turned out, my chip stacks were bigger than her's at the end of the night, and she went to bed. I went down to my truck to hang out in the canopy, with a smile on my face!

Shelby has taught me how to speak Waffle House, and I put it to use this morning as I walked into one. There was an open spot at the counter between a woman and a long haired guy, so I slid on in.

The waitress came up quickly and I said I wanted double hash browns, smothered (cheese), covered (onions), with chili, and two eggs over easy. I sensed the woman to my left shift her gaze in my direction, obviously impressed with my vocabulary. Or maybe it was my nails.

After a few seconds I turned towards her, and saw this beautiful young woman, with amazing tits. As I looked further down the counter I saw her young daughter, and her handsome husband. You're a lucky man sir!

It's been a great return ride so far. I worked the diagonal Northwest from I75, into Alabama, onto I65, and I've landed at a Rest Area South of Birmingham, at 1830, a hundred and ninety three miles from home.

My sweet little truck is running great, I don't know how I could have doubted her...


Shelby and I had a great day yesterday! I think my sweet beautiful grand-daughter has become my favorite human on this planet. We went to that Korean Spa and I just had the soak and steam, in the mens section, while she got an amazing body scrub, from an old Korean woman, on the other side.

My experience was great, alternating between steam room and hot tub. One guy convinced me to settle down into the cold tub for a bit, and I have to say, it was pretty cool.

We left the Spa in search of Sushi and her amazing Mercedes with the phone connection, guided us to the best spot in town. Our last night together on this Christmas adventure ended with a movie and some poker, with chips, and I'm heading back home shortly.

It's the busiest travel day of the year as people travel home from Christmas, and I'm not going anywhere. Shelby and I did Waffle House again, and then she got into a video chat, and landed herself another job, around short term rentals and a RV park.

She also mentioned I could live in a small trailer at the RV park and act as greeter and guide, rent free, not charge them for my time, and live off my Social Security. Sounds like a win/win to me!

We're trying to figure out what to do today, and I'll be heading home tomorrow. Shelby's looking at a Korean Spa, have a good soak and steam, then get an hour long massage, for $200 each. Ten dollars off for seniors.

She's calling them now for an appointment. Ooops, no masseuses available, we could still soak and steam. There's a male and female nude soak area, with a common dry sauna area.

Shelby's checking other options now, but we might just go for this one, stay tuned!

What an amazing Christmas I've just had with Kristin and Ryan, and their family yeterday. The food was amazing, Shelby's boards rocked the house, and I got to know some great folks.

Ryan is a 24 year Marine and as we drove back to Shelby's place for the homemade cranberry sauce we left behind, we chatted. I told him that if I had served I would have wanted to be a helicopter pilot. He smiled and told me that's what he did! How about that.

Paul is Ryan's step dad, ex airline pilot, Flight Controller for decades, and eventually a Controller trainer for the FAA. I told him I worked for Sundstrand back in the early nineties, writing assembly language code for the Black Box. When I said, "but it's really a red box", he knew I was for real.

Rob jumped in and said he also wrote assembly code back in the day. Turns out he's a mainframe guy with an amazing background. Suddenly we were standing over in a corner swapping stories loudly and drinking Ryan's smoked Old Fashions. From left to right, Paul, Ryan, me and Rob.

Ryan's mom Jean Anne is a lovely woman with a great smile, who loved my nails. We chatted about cruises and life. Kristyn, Ryan's wife, cooked up a wonderful spread and spread her beauty around the house.

Their 8 year old daughter Katrina, who I met the last time I was down, was sick but hung in there. The other daughter, 13 year old Kaitlyn, was pretty, and very smart. What a great family!

Shelby and I did a Facetime chat with my Idaho family. It was wonderful to see them and introduce Shelby to my sister, nieces Catherine and Elizabeth, and Dave. Brian she knows well. No snapshots, but maybe Brian will send me a photo or two.

Then we did another Facetime with my son Riley, Jessica and the babies. It was also great to see them and the new baby.

I was honored to have a seat at the table, and see my family on a phone screen!

It's a little after 2300, Eastern time, and I'm sitting in Shelby's main level, while she's mossied off to bed, upstairs. My sweet grand-daughter is worn out, I can't even get a poker game out of her.

This has been a great Christmas Eve day down in Western Florida. The life style here is so different than Lawrenceburg, TN.

The energy is much higher, the people are prettier, and I can't belive they're paying thousands of dollars for a monthly roof over their head.

I told our Columbian hot tub friends about my now raised rent of $525, and they were stunned by how low it was.

Florida is amazing, but everything is insanely expensive. An old retired guy like me, on a fixed income, couldn't make it here, without a lot of compromises.

So, I have accepted Tennessee as my home, where I can live within the means of my fixed income. But the culture and the energy down here are something else. It's Florida baby!

It's now Xmas morning and here's Shelby giving Zinny her gift.

Shelby, Josie, and I had brunch at Oxford Exchange. We were bummed that her friend Ricky, the world class pianist was placed up above the brunch crowd, but we got a table with a view of him.

The food was different, but good. Meeting Josie was a treat, she's originally from Brazil and has a great accent. She's also hot as hell!

Then we drove to St Petersburg, I got my toes in the Gulf of Mexico, and we enjoyed the beach.

Shelby then pulled up in front of this beautiful pink expensive hotel called the Vinoy, and we went inside. We ended up at the pool and there was a hot tub. There was no key lock to the place, so I jumped in. Shelby had her Christmas hooker outfit on so she made a couple trips to the bar, and just dangled her legs in the tub while we made new friends. At one point I gave her a foot massage from the tub.

We ended the soak hanging out with a great couple from Columbia named Christian and Isabelle, and I think they're looking forward to making this blog!

Now we're back home, watching a hot Christmas movie called A Bad Momma's Christmas. Merry Christmas Eve!

Shelby attends this Mystic Mafia Mardi Gras Krewe event in Pensacola every February. The women all wear red, get really drunk, kiss all over each other, and a bunch of them end up completely naked in a hot tub.

It's an annual event. Makes me realize that I really don't have a life, and I want to be reincarnated as a hot woman.

Had a great time at the Tampa Lighted Christmas Boat Parade!

So here's the Tampa agenda, tonight we're having dinner with Kristen and Ryan and their two girls (Katrina 8 and Kaity 13). After that we're doing the Lighted Christmas Boat Parade, something sorely missing back in Lawrenceburg, TN.

Tomorrow it's brunch at the Oxford exchange, where her world renowned pianist friend Ricky, (@rickykeys on YouTube) is playing. After that, were hitting St Pete beach on the Gulf of Mexico, also sorely missing back home.

Christmas morning is wide open, heading over to Kristen and Ryan's house for dinner and some whisky drinking around 1400. I picked up a big bottle of Proper 12, the sipping whiskey that Daniel, Tony and I drink back at home over poker. I brought my chips down and maybe we can get a game going after dinner.

Shelby goes back to remote working on Tuesday and I'll have to decide if I'm going to bail on my garage office, but you may have to rip it out of my old cold fingers...


Shelby used my truck for running a bunch of cardboard that had accumulated in her garage, down to the cardboard bin here at the townhouse complex. It specifically said cardboard only, but being my rebel grand-daughter, she added some styrofoam, and I ain't tellin.

This freed up her garage and I backed on in. We added a table at the end, some electricity, her internet, and I've got a bed and an office in there now. This means I don't have to drive in this crazy ass town, we'll just use her ride to get around.

I woke up from a great dream at 0330 this morning, at that South Georgia R/A. As I laid there, I realized what I wanted to give Shelby for Christmas.

She told me a while back that she would love to have that beautiful crocheted blanket her great-great grandmother made. I wish my abused brain cells had thought of this while I was back home, because that's where it is.

So, the first thing I'll do when I get back is get it dry cleaned, boxed up at the post office, and sent on down.

btw: I'm at your door. Come on down and give your road weary poppa, a big hug!

It's been a hell of a road trip so far. I'm now hunkered down in a Rest Area off I-75 SB, a little under six hours from Tampa. Just made my bed after throwing everything in the back this morning.

I could have pushed it a couple more R/A's down the road, but it's 1600, still light, and I found a great spot, before the Xmas travelers hit.

Shelby's expecting me around noon tomorrow, but I can beat that easily. If I get up before dawn I could grab some breakfast and still roll in early.

I left the house around 0530 this morning and drove about 12 miles before I realized I had left my wallet and cash at home. I could have driven a couple hundred miles, with no resources to buy gas and get home, and I would have been screwed!

I drove to Chattanooga and headed South on I-75. I should have known better, that Interstate thru Atlanta is always horrible, I even took the I-285 Atlanta bypass, and it was just as bad. Add in the fact that it's two days before Christmas and...

I'm going to find a diagonal route back home next week, through Alabama, fuck I-75.

I kept making contingency plans in my head if my truck broke down, then I realized all I was doing was creating negative energy, so I shifted to picturing myself backing into Shelby's garage tomorrow. She is running wonderful, cool and happy!

My nails have been a hit so far. I was joking with my nail artist Erica about handing over gas money to convenience store clerks and getting a reaction.

Sure enough, the first guy said, could I see your nails? and he said that he likes girls (ha ha) but he really wanted to do his nails like that, but his daughter said he would make a fool out of himself. I don't feel like a fool in the slightest, and told him to go for it.

The second clerk said she loved my nails, and asked if I did them myself. I told her the story.

I'm really glad I chose this R/A instead of pushing down the road. I've had plenty of light to get things done, and write this post. Tampa tomorrow!

Update: My friend Elizabeth just texted me:

To avoid Atlanta on the way home I'd head to Tallahassee, then to Douglasville, GA, then to Rome, GA, onto Huntsville then on home! That route keeps you off the Atlanta traffic and I've driven/rode the Huntsville/Rome/Atlanta route many many times and it's a beautiful drive!

Thanks my friend!

It's Thursday night before Christmas, and all through the house, no creatures are stirring, just my fingers and mouse.

Daniel has hung in my chair and stared. With visions his wife, would become his spouse.

He needed Dollar Store pizza, so badly and quick, and away to the store, he flew like a flash.

And then in a twinkling, as he rolled to his house, he knew he was lucky, that he didn't crash!

I got a hand job from the lovely hair stylist Erica at the Beauty College yesterday. After she created beautiful art work on my trimmed up finger nails, she squirted lotion on her hands and massaged mine, it was great.

This is, I assume, part of the manicure experience, and I would have never know this, if I hadn't done it. Women live a different life...

As to the haircut and shave before, she didn't cut down as low as she normally does, so I'm sporting one of those styled Stubble Cowboy looks, only the color is grey.

I thought about coloring everything, hair and beard, but I managed to get a grip on myself, avoiding massive embarrassment.

Hell, I'm 77, what old man in his right mind is getting Xmas colored nails prior to his grand-daughter's friends family gathering in Florida? Rein me in Santa!

A friend of mine had a moment the other night, as he sat in my big chair and bitched about his life.

I love the guy, but after hearing the same stuff over, and over, I tried to break through and get him to talk about reasons and solutions.

Well, apparently that was a friendship mistake. He stormed out the door angry, as my departure to Florida looms.

I'm afraid that he's caught up in this depression loop, where you convince yourself that everyone around you is against you, and that becomes your reality.

Your wife doesn't love you, her grown ass son has to leave his mom's house, otherwise it's divorce. You hate your mom, you hate your dad, you're broken because your two sons, that you love, are spending Christmas with their Mom, you're ex-wife, that you hate with a passion.

I get it! All you want to do now, as this vicious thing called Christmas approaches, is to bottom out and drown in it, until it passes.

I've been there, a couple of times since I've lived here, I understand.

I wish I could give you a spark of inspiration, like the one I've received from Shelby.

Don't die without going for it! Lose the hate, create the love, get over everything!

Meanwhile my estranged daughter sent me a Christmas card.

I was archiving blog posts tonight, from July up to October, and I see the number of hits each post has gotten. I only look at these numbers when I'm doing this, and I'm always shocked.

I tend to think of this blog as a platform to share my thoughts, photos, videos and tools, with friends and family, and the occasional person I ever mentioned the blog to. I keep forgetting that this is the Internet, and is solidly embedded in the Google search chain.

I saw recent individual Posts exceeding 10,000 views, and I haven't looked at the stats on most of the older ones, so there could be some even bigger hit numbers out there.

It stuns me to think that so many people have read my wild and crazy writings. Maybe I should tame it down. Fuck no!

But I love to know that my photos and videos have been seen so much.

One of my individual tools has been used over 4.5 million times, (Place), and that pleases me. I developed them in the early phase of the blog, when I still had my coding hat on, big time. This blogging platform allowed me to use my PHP and Javascript skills, to create some very cool stuff.

I don't code anymore, I'm retired from all that, and I just document my life here now. It's so interesting though, to think about all those people out there following my strange life! What must they be thinking!

Since I've adjusted my Tampa, FL arrival to Saturday, I've got all day tomorrow to get ready to travel, which is good as it turns out.

My landlord's office manager dropped by to let me know that potential buyers of this duplex are going to be coming by Friday to check the place out, along with someone from my landlord's office.

Lovely, that means that I need to clean my place up before they rummage through everything for ten to fifteen minutes, while I'm gone.

I asked Steve's office lady if the new owners would raise my rent, and she said that they may not even buy the place. But she couldn't answer the question.

I've never had beautiful nails before and even though these are gell, which are permanent, I was hesitant to wash my dishes. So I ran up to the Dollar Store and bought a rubber gloves two pack.

One for dishes, one for cleaning my house up. I know I'm probably being paranoid, but I need to show up at that Tampa seat at the table, with flawless nails!

My girl, is on!

I went to the Beauty College today and had Daniels and my favorite stylist Erica do her magic on my scruffy old head. They we're short handed so instead of passing me off to a nail person, Erica also did my Christmas nails.

She is a southern sweetheart, with four kids, three to eighteen, and I got to enjoy her beautiful eyes for more than an hour. I think she created a work of art on my nails!

We went with gel, so these will be sticking around until they grow out.

Tomorrow, I'm getting my hair cut, my beard shaved, my goatee trimmed and all of the little places hair appears on an old mans head, cleaned up.

I have a 1000 appointment with the amazing Erica at the Beauty College. She is a beautiful mother of local kids, working her way through school for a career. She's almost there, and in the process has become the most sought after mens stylist in town.

She also has the most beautiful pale blue eyes, that you can't help but gaze into, as she hovers around your head.

I've lost my beard trimmer, somewhere around the house, so I just let it all go to hell, and let Erica fix it when I'm ready to travel. I tip her well.

While I'm there, I've decided to get my nails done, and I've just called and added it to my visit. Why should women have all the fun when it comes to nails?

I remember that road trip I made a while back with Mystery Woman. As we drove up North so I could buy some legal weed, I kept gazing at her toes, they were painted and lovely.

So, I'm going to have my finger nails manicured and styled into a Christmas motif, green and red, with white sprinkles to represent snow. I think my girl is coming out.

It should be a fun attraction as I navigate Christmas as an active participant this year. I'm old, I'm convoluted, and I don't give a flying fuck anymore, if people think I'm weird.

I thought about having my hair colored, but I'll start with the nails...


There is this wonderful human emotion called authenticity, where there is no doubt upon seeing it, can you deny it!

This amazing photo of my boy and his girls, captures Pure Love!

God I'm looking forward to some intelligent, sensible conversations. I have a friend that never lets anything through. I try to understand what's going on in his life, and he shuts it down. Saying things like I don't want to hear your shit anymore and shut the fuck up, and all he can do is piss and moan about his life and marriage, but want's no response, much less advice.

He is my friend, so I endure, but I'm an old man who has had many friends, who have shared their lives and their troubles with me, and I expect some interaction, not to just sit there and bitch, and walk out the door, when I try.

My new revamped Tampa schedule is worked out. Come Saturday night I will be parked securely in Shelby's downstairs garage, making her dinner, followed by poker, with real chips.

At the end of the evening I will make it down the steps safely, with Shelby holding up my arm, and sleep in my truck. Sounds like a great Saturday night to me!

I fought through the depression and the cold this morning and drove my clothes to the Wishy Washy. I'm staying loyal to them as the new Laundry has opened in the middle of town.

Saw a beautiful mid forties woman with this insanely slim body there. Most women around here are overweight, so it's nice to see, but I digress...

Got my stuff clean, then headed to Krogers. I needed basic supplies for the next couple of days, I put together a special dinner package for Shelby and I one night, and I fueled up.

I got everything home and put away, when the phone rang. It was my friend, he was stranded at a gas station off Hwy 64. He had ridden The Bitch's bike up there, she came up and snagged it, and he was stranded.

Of course I rescued him, let him buy an internet card at the Dollar Store, and drove him home. And of course, he got me stoned, because that's the way we roll.

As I was heading back I decided to stay on Hwy 64, instead of going the normal way. It's a wide open highway with a 65mph speed limit and I cranked my baby up and cruised for an extra five miles to home.

I'm about to embark on a Christmas journey to Tampa, FL, with 683.35 miles between my house and Shelby's, and I needed to know if my sweet truck Jill is ready. As we're flying down an empty highway I shouted out to her Are you up for a road trip? and suddenly she spoke to me, and I clearly heard Yes, Yes! in the cab. It was a very nice female voice!

So that's my day, as the early afternoon arrives. What started out as a miserable pity party this morning, turned out great!

I'm an alcoholic, and I've done really stupid things as a result. I'm very sorry, life.

It's caused me to land where I have, and I take full responsibility, I blame only myself for my failures.

I did a couple things good, being Riley's dad is right at he top, and somehow I gained the love of my grand-daughter Shelby.

So Google, you can load this on your server, as James Leigh Hamilton's honest biography. Please erase everything else...

Today is laundry day, according to the plan, but it's cold out, I'm depressed and hunkered down, and my phone is off. The afternoon will get up to 41° and maybe I can make it out then.

I've also got that lung virus that's sweeping the country, where you're hacking mucus up all the time. Daniel has it too. Gotta keep my eyes on the Tampa goal...


My son Riley, Jessica and newborn baby Taleigh are back home, and reunited with Ariella.

The similarities between the sisters at birth are amazing, and I asked Riley if the baby had red hair. Nope, at least now they can tell them apart as they grow up.

After the mobile mechanic attached the fuel hose to my carb, I turned the ignition switch. A number of things could have happened, like nothing, or horrific sounds coming from my engine as she broke apart from a bad install.

My trip to Tampa would either be on, or I would be walking to the store from now on.

But she fired up like her old self, instantly, and sat there and purred. I've poured a bunch of my dwindling savings into that moment, and it was sweet!

The young mechanic, son of the guy who runs the shop across from the tobacco store up the street, had initially quoted me $50 for the service call and $50 for labor. I stood there in front of my engine, smiling, and handed him two fifties. He said make it $70, and with the $35 part, I made out well.

Then I jumped in my truck, shot across the highway and did a test run to the Park. Crossing Hwy 43 to the side road has been risky lately. Big trucks come roaring down the hill, building up speed to make it up the next hill into town, and I was running the risk of my truck dying on me as I stepped on the gas trying to accelerate across the highway, in front of them.

Death by giant speeding truck smashing into my drivers side, as I sit helpless in the middle of the road, is not the way I want to go...

Bottom line: Carb rebuilt, new plugs, new cap and rotor, new distributer, new tires, new shocks, a brake rebuild, a fresh oil change, and now with a new fuel pump, my truck Jill is back!

The average life span for men in America is 76. That puts me 1.5 years past my expiration date, and man am I feeling it. Parkinsons is really kicking my butt today and it took me several minutes to put on my socks.

It's a cold day and I decided to wear shoes but I couldn't put either of my two pair on, so I settled for my sandals. But I'm still alive, still moving, and I've got a Florida Christmas coming up, so issues be damned.

My new fuel pump is sitting on the table and a mechanic friend of my friend is dropping by to install it. I really hope this is the repair that gets my truck back purring.

I wish I could get my bodies fuel pump fixed...

Update: The guy replacing the fuel pump said, based on the gaskets, it's probably the original pump. Which means it's a thirty five year old part. It's challenging and costly maintaining an old truck, but it sure beats buying a new vehicle.

I've worked out my schedule for the trip down to Tampa, FL and Christmas with grand-daughter Shelby. She's working late on Friday so I've moved everything up a day, I'll roll in on Saturday.

 • Monday - New fuel pump installed.
 • Monday - Put cash on my card.

 • Tuesday - Laundry at Wishy Washy.
 • Tuesday - Help out friend, get stoned.

 • Wednesday - Hair cut, nails, shave.
 • Wednesday - Let my nails set.

 • Thursday - Clean my house up.
 • Thursday - Pack for the trip.

 • Friday - Drive South halfway.
 • Friday - Stay at the Rest Area.

 • Saturday - Finish drive to Tampa.
 • Saturday - Park truck in garage.

 • Sunday - Do some Xmas shopping.
 • Sunday - Brunch at Oxford Exchange.

 • Monday - Christmas with friends.

 • Tuesday - Wide open...


My longtime friend Beryl in Hawaii just texted me and said Beautiful child. Wow I'm learning all kinds of "stuff" about you. Where did the Hamilton name come from?

I told her that my dad was Eugene Thomas Riza, a young Navy guy that married my mom right after WW2 ended. They had my brother and I, got divorced, and she married a guy named Paul Hamilton. My legal name shifted from Leigh James Riza to James Leigh Hamilton, that's what's on my SS. Somewhere along the way, it simply became Jim Hamilton.

I remember Paul driving me to the Social Security office down in Southern California when I was a kid. He was claiming me as his own, which I respect.

And now the name Leigh has made it's way to my new grand-daughter. Wow...


Taleigh Ann Bangert entered the world today at 1105. She's beautiful, and I'm so happy for my son Riley and his wife Jessica, tears are getting in the way of me typing this.

Her name stuns and humbles me. I was born as Leigh James Riza, and my daughter Becky's middle name was Ann. I hope my name was a consideration in choosing that first name, and maybe the middle name of Ann is a coincidence, or maybe not!

They have worked so hard to have Ariella, and now Taleigh, and thanks to a fertility clinic in Arizona, it's happened.

I have no doubt Taleigh is going to be as beautiful as her older sister, and damned if I don't need to stick around long enough to see them grow up together.

I'm still crying, happy tears!

Update: Riley confirmed her name did come from mine, and Ann was coincidental. And she's a big baby, 8lb 6.4 oz.

Ariella and Taleigh, I love the names, sure beats Betty and Jane!

When I attended Paradise, CA High School, I was in the choir, I could sing, I had a deep bass voice that rocked the room. The town Chamber of Commerce hired me, a buddy, and two ladies, to Christmas carol around the town.

We wore top hats, and long outfits, and mossied around downtown singing Christmas carols. They actually paid us to do this. We were great!

You think I could remember their names after all these years, but nope...

I have been a Christmas bah humbug for a while now. Hunkering down, doing nothing. I had that wonderful Christmas cruise with Shelby and Andy a couple of years ago, but for the most part, it's a dead holiday for me.

Now I've been invited to a wonderful family home in Tampa, FL, with new friends and my beautiful grand-daughter. How about that!

My old truck is going to make it down there and back. If she breaks down half way, I'll put her in a great shop, pack my bag, and hitch hike on down to Tampa. It won't be the first time!

That's really what this season is all about, making the journey, making the connection.

My son Riley is about to be gifted with another beautiful daughter, a wonderful Christmas present as he sits in their hospital room, biggest one on the floor.

I got my truck an oil change yesterday, then drove down to Florence, AL. I ordered a fuel pump, should have it installed by Monday. Then I fell asleep in my chair, woke up at 2300, went to bed and slept until 0945.

Then my Favorite Grand Daughter Shelby called me and we have firmed up Christmas. Her friends that we had lunch with when I was down in Tampa have invited her to their home, and I've been honored with a seat at the table.

Shelby was concerned about my truck making it down there. Gee, I wonder why say's the old blogging drama queen! But we're going to Tampa, FL for Christmas. Shelby's working from home and has some time, so we can hang out, hit the beach and do the town.

She also told me Jess should be having my new grand-daughter next week. She's more on top of my Seattle family than I am! We talked about a possible trip there next year, and a possible Texas run to see two more of my beautiful grand-daughters.

So, time to get my act together. Do my laundry next week, haircut and a shave at the Beauty College, make my bed in the back of the truck, and hit the road!

Ok, I held my drink up. Searching with my partner for his lost mission. No clue where that's at, but we continue on, drink spilled across the floor, back to the house for another...

Friendship valued, no wonder where. A knock on the door means more than I can accept at the moment. I love life, I accept it, and I live it. Knock on my door and come on in!

And there you were, raw, skinless, and naked. It wasn't a pretty sight, in fact it was really gross.

I thought about calling 911, but it would have been worthless, wish you were gone, a creature beyond creating, a fireball from hell!

And then you were gone, TV turned off because I passed out in my chair! If TV was turned off every time you passed out in your chair, there would be no chair, mother fucker!

Yea, Daniel walked out on me, while watchin a movie, and shut the whole house down on me because I fell asleep, in my chair, in my own house.

He could have at least locked up on his way out, he knows the code to my door. Instead, he leaves me alone and subject to the violence on our dead end street.

He knows I only have a shotgun, that I have moved from my front door to the back. He has enough fire power to take down anything, and carries it on his hip sometimes, hidden.

So, I sit here alone in my little house, everything turned off, because I fell asleep. Did it dawn on you, my friend, that I might wake up?

Well, that was quite a run on Lee Street, dead truck, drama, starvation. Friends sitting in and offering condolences, and stoneries. Memories of my brother and sister, so different, with me in the middle.

Sad memories of all of the people that have passed before me are strong. I am the patriarch of this family. Not your typical one, all I've got is age, and Sis ended up the rich one.

I can't hold an amazing Christmas for all of my family at a Tennessee mansion, but I sure wish I could. The ability to send every grandkid, and great-grandkid, along with my sister and her kids, an invite, a plane ticket, and some cash, to come see me, would be amazing.

So that's the remorse ticket, I can't change it now. But if I and my truck can make it down South to hang with Shelby this Christmas, I'll be happy...


It's tough maintaining an old vehicle, especially if it's your sole source of transportation. The speedometer says over 248k, but that's wrong. I've compared mileage on my more accurate GPS and determined that my truck speedometer was losing a tenth of a mile, every ten miles, since she left the factory.

I don't know if that was intentional on Mazda's part, for some reason, or they just didn't have the tools in 1988, to be more accurate.

I just ordered a quality fuel pump from Napa, for $50, be here next week. Daniel and I could tackle it, but maybe my mechanic Thomas can come in with a reasonable quote, and I'll swing her by his shop.

I have so much new stuff on my old truck, tires, brakes, drive system flushed, new plugs, new cap and rotor, new distributer, rebuilt the Weber carb, and shortly, a new fuel pump. I've done 5% of the labor and left the rest to the pros. I can do simple things like swap a fuel filter out and recharge the carb filter.

I've spent thousands on my little sweet truck since I bought her off of Riley about a dozen years ago. All money well spent and we've had amazing adventures together.

To have her go into cardiac arrest like yesterday, was something I take personal. She's my girl, I love her and take care of her, and she takes care of me. Her name is Jill, btw.

She got the name from the affair she had with my 1978 lifted Silverado named Jack, on our back forty one Summer in Idaho. It carried on for a couple of years.

Big ol Jack was a hell of a truck, they should have had children together...

The roots of the Jack & Jill story are in France. They are said to be King Louis XVI – Jack, who was beheaded (lost his crown) followed by his Queen, Marie Antoinette – Jill – (who came tumbling after). So they were beheaded lovers.

Jack blew his engine as Riley pulled our moving trailer into Oregon. We had to transfer everything into a UHaul van to complete the move to Idaho. Steph and I were up at Grand Targhee ski resort having lunch with my sister when the shop called and quoted $5k for a new boxed 350 engine. Sis didn't hesitate, fed her card numbers to the shop over the phone, and a week later I pulled him into town, with a new crown. She was a co-owner at that point, but never played that card. Thanks sis!

It was a rough morning, knowing my supplies are at bottom, and my truck is dead under the canopy.

I'm pretty sure it's a fuel pump issue. I found the fuse layout online and was getting ready to check the three fuses related to the pump, when Daniel showed up around 1100. He has a doctor's appointment this afternoon, and was here to help.

He dove under my steering column and rapidly confirmed the fuses were good. Then we checked the main block in the engine compartment, all good.

I thought I had an electronic fuel pump and the gas tank needed to be dropped to replace it. Nope, Daniel pointed to a device behind the carb and said, "You have a mechanical fuel pump". Sure nuff, you could see the hose running right into the carb.

He disconnected the hose and confirmed that gas was being pumped out, and she almost started. He put the hose back on, I cranked her again and she started! Maybe there was a blockage at the hose that blew out, I probably just need a new pump, they're good for 100k miles, and I'm at 245K. Pretty sure I replaced it a long time back.

All my truck needed was to be in the presence of mechanical genius. I left her running and then headed into town for supplies.

I had baked beans over a piece of toast for breakfast this morning and it was looking pretty bleak, but we're back now. Shelby was on the verge of ordering online groceries for me! How sweet, and how pathetic on my part. I had one hell of a pity party going on yesterday, but I'm now fully recovered with the roar of an engine.

I have supplies, and I have my truck back!

I think I have figured it out. My WW2 sailor dad wanted to take his wife and their two sons back to Cleburne, TX, where his family was.

But my moms parents were all over their grandsons, in California. It caused a clash, and my dad went back to Texas without his family, a broken man. I got to know him in his older years, and I loved him.

Then mom marries a trucker and gives my brother and I a sister. We traveled all over the West, chasing my new fathers dreams, most of which are now a gentle blur.

I cherished my grand-parents, they were an intregal part of my life, until their end.

My brother is gone, his legacy passed with him in the locked down mental health nursing home facility he died in.

My sister is alive and doing well, building her legacy strong. They are my family, and I love them!

I have no clue what kind of legacy I'm going to leave behind. Minimal at the most! The old frumphy grandpa crashing and burning in a Tennessee town would make a fun TikTok short, but I ain't filming it!

I meant to name this post Legacy, but as I finish off the bottom of a peanut butter jar with a couple pickled eggs, for dinner, I digress...


My truck won't start, again. It turns over but don't fire up. I've replaced everything, and I think I've run out of options. I've said from the moment I moved in here, if I lose my truck, I'm in trouble. Especially since winter is rolling in.

The nearest grocery store is Cash Savers a half mile away. To get there I would have to walk up the hill on Hwy 43, cross two major intersections, then walk a few long blocks. I'm a Kroger guy but I could survive on what that place has.

Truth is, walking to any store is off the table. I've been able to combine driving, with limited walking, into a workable solution to living here. Take my truck out of that equation, and I'm just simply fucked...

It was a cold morning when I rolled out of bed and into my clothes. I had visions of eggs and hash browns at my table in the back at the Square.

I finally realized that I was going nowhere, and went back inside. This was going to be shopping day, I'm out of my basics.

I finished off a box of cereal, for breakfast. I've made several trips to my truck, I've got the hood open letting her warm in the sun, but she ain't firing.

Sucking on baggie crumbs in my pipe and drinking a fresh vodka water made from the leftovers of last night, helps me do something, but I can't figure out what that is, so I'll probably do nothing.

I guess it's time to sign up for the ride share thing here, tomorrow...


My good friend and neighbor Daniel, gifted me with great words this evening. He said he really enjoys the subtle, and sometimes blaring, nuances of my Posts!

Those were well needed words to hear. To know that there is at least one person out there that gets you, means there may be more!

I'm down, it's tight, found myself thanking my life, and my friend, tonight. Now he's snoring in his chair...


Old, stoned, stupid and horny. Sums up my life on this dead end street in Tennessee. I should travel somewhere this week, right after I get that oil change this week, right after I buy food, this week.

It's a strange place to be in. I have time left to live and I want to live it to it's fullest, while I still barely can. But I just can't find the energy spark! I want to spend my time out of the house for days, but the best I can do is supply runs and an occasional trip to the Park.

I've got my old truck ready to travel, she's running a little rough until she gets warmed up, just like me. But then she purrs when she hits the open road.

The first thing I should do this week is laundry. Hopefully everything will spiral upward from there.

Computer just told me that 2024 will be here in two weeks, six days and ten hours. It's amazing how much people jam into the end of December. A lot of you enjoy it, while I just survive it.

I'm envious of the people that love Christmas, they live in a different world than me, surrounded by family and friends and turkey.

I got laid a lot on News Years Eve, over the last twenty years. It was our anniversary, and that's usually how they ended up.

As a younger man, I never believed I would make it to the year 2000. Now I remember exactly where I was on that new century event.

I was walking back through the apartment complex in Kent, WA, just having celebrated at the bar up the street, when a beautiful woman appeared out of the dark and kissed me, deep and hard.

Then she turned around and faded back into the dark. I didn't know her, and I knew most people in the complex. Never saw her again.

I also know the difference between real memory and drunken illusions. Actually, as I wind this Post down, sometimes I can't remember where I put my cup, but the memories I've maintained are solid, and my blogs supplement them.

I wish I had started blogging at the age of five...


Daniel and I have been discussing what being the third of a threeway with Taylor and Lainey would be like. He's not up, but I say hell yeah, life is short, fuck!

He hates Lainey Wilson and just did a lap dance on me to get the remote out of my hand. He actually sat on my lap and banged my head between his hands until I gave him the remote. It was kinda hot, being palm slapped by my slightly high neighbor, but now we're watching football, and he's back in his chair, under control. :-)

His wife is hunkering down with a migraine at the house next door, so he came over to play remote wars with me.

I had one of the best laughs I've had in a while, when he proposed that we watch a particular movie on NetFlix. I was writing and quickly glanced up to the screen and said "as long as it doesn't have Dwayne Johnson in it, I can't stand that guy" (which is true).

Daniel, being two sheets to the breeze, melted down. It was fun to watch, and no, we did not watch the movie, he insisted.

So just a quiet Sunday afternoon in Southern Tennessee. Daniel may have already been absorbed by his wife, sucked in and slathered up! He went home to refresh his drink, and never returned...


I'm in coast mode before Christmas, not sure where I'm landing, or even if I'm landing. I don't want to peak too early, with clothes washed and my shit together, but I need a haircut and a shave at the Beauty College by Erica soon.

Not in the kind of shape I've been in on previous Pensacola runs, but I'm up. It should be another great adventure to share here. Visions of frosty air, everywhere.

My door is mostly wide open during the day and I've had some interesting people pass through it. Today it was neighbor Daniel and he said "If you're going to be dumb, you better be tough".

So we visited and ordered a couple, with his wife next door. She's hunkered down in the recliner watching Lord of the Rings stuff, probably asleep.

I'm thinking just one car with two scantly clad young lappers showing up on our quiet little street, on a Saturday afternoon, would probably go unnoticed.

I crank my music up to max around here, anytime I want, and nobody complains. So I'm thinking of getting them inside with Lainey Wilson playing Heart Like A Truck, and close the door for a while.

I am no stranger to strip clubs, I love them, and I've been in some great ones. I had my girls in a small club in SF, I set up my office in the back of a strip club during ComDex in Vegas, a couple of times in the eighties.

I was a wild ass crazy son of a bitch, and a world class badass computer programmer.

I just realized something, my ultra sounder nice lady Melissa moved that scan thing all over my abdomen. I assume other organs would have been scanned incidentally, and if there was something going on, they would spot it.

I've decided I want to see that scan! Normally we just let the doctors do their thing, tell us what they think, prescribe a solution, then send us on our merry xmas way.

I am positive that unless I ask, they won't offer to show them to me. I had my head in a big machine after a fall a few years ago, and this hospital never offered to show me any of the results from that, along with a bunch of other tests. I was just their money maker that day.

That walk in procedure cost me more than $300, above my very good insurance. My normal high copay is $35, low is $10, and the hospital didn't ask for either when I left the other day, and I'm beginning to wonder if I'm going to get another above insurance coverage bill.

Maybe there's something going on here? The clinic has a patient who admit's to a drinking problem. Blood is drawn and the liver enzymes are high. Duhh, of course they are!

Suddenly there is an urgency for a Liver Ultra Sound at the hospital up the street. They pushed this on me twice, I gave in on the second.

This is the same clinic I initially went to about my head when I fell. They wouldn't touch me, sent me right up the street to the hospital, and a bill.

I guess I have a great distrust about our medical system. The people that perform it are mostly wonderful people. I love the girls up at FastPace, I bring them fresh pastry!

But I think the whole system is rigged to maximize profit. The administrators think, how can we shift a procedure out of the standard insurance loop, make money, then pass some down to the clinic that referred it.

If I end up mysteriously missing, please refer this Post to the detectives.

I let that homeless guy tell his story here yesterday, and I forgot to mention that I got the call from somebody about my Liver Ultrasound. The results are in.

It was not good, but at the bottom scale of bad. I have Fatty Liver caused by consuming alcohol. I could have Skinny Liver if I ever managed to stop.

I guess my old body is OK, considering everything I've done to it. So I have trouble walking, and Parkinsons has turned me into a vibrator (don't know why the girls aint jumpin all over me?) , but it could be much worse.

I had breakfast at the buffet in the Square this morning, one plate, two orange juices, and coffee. I sat directly behind the buffet line so I could people watch while I ate.

I saw very obese people, who could barely walk because of their weight, keep coming back for more. I guess when you get to that state, the only thing that turns you on is a local feeding trough where you can eat until you're carried out the door. They're just as addicted to food as I am to alcohol.

I really don't like the Saturday buffet, rather have my regular, but when I rolled out of bed at 0700 I needed food, with liquids, and it's only three minutes away. It's tough having a Fatty Liver.

I'm a down home country boy, born right here in Southern Tennessee. I never really learned to read or write. I'm using a translater with the help of a friend, to write this. Thanks to OldManJim for letting me speak.

I realize now that I was abused. I was just something that came out of my mommas stomach, that they threw scraps to. Social people came in and told them I had to go to school, and my parents were glad to get rid of me every day.

I barely knew how to talk, or write, much less handle school. I had never seen another boy or girl before.

I understood man vs woman, I watched it for years, and suddenly on the playground I was surrounded by others like me, and I recognized the difference.

School didn't work. I was kicked out after I tried to get into a girls pants to see what it looked like.

I was around six when I hit the road, and I had seen nothin. I didn't know nothin! All I could do is walk along the highway, stick my thumb out, and pray for life.

I think I'll call myself Six, I need to learn numbers next, so I know what that means.

My friend came by this afternoon and rolled up a masterful joint, made from other roaches. It burned long and smooth, like taking sips of a vintage Napa Valley Cabernet, of which I've had many, btw...

We had a great talk about everything. I dove deep into the relationships he has in this house where he's hanging out at. His girlfriend is there, along with the lady owner of the house. His brother is there, banging the owner.

Then there is the mystery woman, kinda hot I thought, who has been here in my house a couple times. She is right there in the mix, probably fucking everyone there. Women are just as horny as men, I have learned.

But my friend was concerned that owner lady was going to kick everyone out, and end the party. He's got a new job starting next Monday up North, but he may be living out of his truck...


Monthly fixed expenses:

• Rent - $525

• Utilities - $110

• Phone - $35

• Internet - $77

• Subscriptions ˜ $30

• $750 - Total

Yearly expenses:

• Amazon - $140

• Auto Insurance - $320

• Website hosting ˜ $200

• Flickr Hosting ˜ $70

• $730 - Total

Which averages out to about $60 a month. Combined with $750 monthly, it appears my fixed monthly expenses are around $800.

Then, considering I am a pathetic out of control alcoholic, add in another $300 a month in booze.

So here we are at $1100 a month. I get almost $1490 a month in Social Security, which leaves $300 a month for things like, food and gas.

I've been supplementing my life here, and my travels, with my savings. Those savings could be gone by next Summer, depending on what I do in the meantime.

At that point I would down size everything! Drop my blogs and web hosting, cancel Amazon and NetFlix, shutdown my internet and services. Then park my truck and cancel the insurance.

I would certainly keep my phone and the $35 cost.

So at that point I would be just like many seniors around here. I would go on food stamps and get my rides to Kroger from the Senior Center Ride Share for $4 a trip.

And then add another $300 to the monthly kitty because I couldn't walk up the hill to the fucking liquor store.

This has been an honest assessment of the state of my life. Thanks for reading...


I inherited smart genes from both sides of my family and passed them down to my daughter, and she passed them on to her many children.

I devoured every book I could get my hands on as a young kid in the early fifties. My vocabulary grew with each word I conquered.

School was easy, I scored at the top of most tests I took. I created amazing computer systems in the seventies and eighties. Made an amazing amount of money, lived in great places, and lived a successful decadent life.

Then I crashed and burned in a field next to the apartment my boy lived at, in Kent, WA, South of Seattle. It was the early nineties and I had lost my apartment and stored the few things remaining in my life, a couple of boxes and my lifelong teddy bear, on Riley's mom's back porch.

I borrowed a friend's tent and moved into the middle of the dense field. I had nothing, I was flat broke, and all I had was a little radio to play music on. My smarts weren't doing me a fucking bit of good at the time, and I had bottomed out. All of the possessions of my past, were gone. Let that sink in...

I've owned amazing possessions through my well paid life. I once spent $300 for a record player needle cartridge in my sweet stereo system. I've owned and enjoyed so much stuff, can't complain, it was all good, and then it was gone.

I lived in that field for a while. My friends and neighbors from the apartment complex would bring me food. My big black buddy Roger would bring me coffee in the morning, then get me stoned.

I made my living by walking the Albertson's parking lot, looking for dropped coins on the ground.

But then, a song came over my little radio, called "Walking in Memphis" and I suddenly knew I was destined to land on a dead end street in Southern Tennessee! It changed my life, and I began creating a transition from homeless to here!

My FGD (Favorite Grand Daughter) is at an Emerging Leaders Networking Party at the Tampa, FL Zoo tonight, on a Thursday evening. I think she is approaching the top of her game, with the new place and the new job.

Shelby Hamilton is an amazing young woman. I've watched her life evolve since she was three. I've met the main men, I've followed her career, we've hung out and loved each other.

When you reach the top of your game, run with it hard, and give it every drop of energy you have. There will be plenty of time to rest.

I was at the top of my computer game at her age (early thirties) and I know of what I speak. The best thing is, unlike me, I know she's going to be a star, make a family, and become the matriarch of my other thirteen grandchildren, and their families.

It's interesting when you live alone, if you want to eat, you need to make it. Tonight I had a peanut butter covered banana, that I call peaban.

Yea, it would be nice to have a couple trendy little cafes, with bars in the back, to walk down to in the evening, but peaban works for me!

The Ultra Sound room was cozy, with dim lighting. A pretty, friendly redhead named Melissa let me put my coat on her chair, then she laid me down on the bed.

I call it a bed because it was soft and cozy, with pillows. She and the machine were on my right and she asked me to put my right arm up around my head so it was out of the way. I fought through the arthritis and did it.

Then she placed one of those little wired clips on the index finger of my left hand that was laying by my side. She then had me pull my sweats down for a second and she put a wired clamp on my right nut.

I asked her what this was for, and she said This is my special Shock and Light system. She explained that I now have a small current flowing through my body that lights up my internal organs so she can capture them better.

I asked about the Shock thing and she said that if I moved in the slightest while getting my abdomen rubbed all over with a warm scope by a hot redhead, she was going to zap the shit out of me! Story of my life, I said fine...

It lasted about ten minutes and I laid perfectly still. She kept telling me to take a deep breath and hold it, then the dominatrix Melissa would let me breath again. Sometimes she would tell me to stop breathing right after I exhaled and there was no air in my lungs, but damned if I was going to gasp for air and get the shit shocked out of me!

We had a fun laugh at the end when I asked her if I still had a liver, and she said yes. That's good!

It was actually a very nice experience, Melissa was sweet and professional, and the results should be at my doctors the first of next week.

I've been thinking about recently giving my mainframe development box to my young friend Hudson, to turn it into a gaming machine. I bought it as such back in Idaho.

That box had my life on it, everything, all of my code. Which I finally realized meant nothing, and I let it go.

This thing about code, if you don't keep up with it, you're lost. I was a great jQuery Javascript html css programmer in my day, and it has now slid way beyond my ability to maitain it.

I have moved beyond many computer platforms in my time, the IBM Sys 32 and 34, the original PC and beyond...

Which all finally evolved down to my desktop full of code, that I wasn't maintaining, and that I didn't really give a flying fuck about anymore.

It's now Hudson's gaming machine!

I'm 77 and I've been drinking and doing every drug on the planet since I was sixteen. Tomorrow I will have my proud liver shine through an ultra sound and show the world that she is strong.

I stacked the cards for Daniel's and my next card game, while he was refilling his drink next door. I gave each other great hands, each with a wildcard.

When he walked back in and sat down with his drink, I had him. No shuffle, just cards sliding across my table, one at a time. When he realized he had five nines, four with a joker, his poker face dissolved.

He was thinking money on the table, real money, but we settled on fake money. He was truly excited, he was holding the best poker hand he has ever had in his life! Five nines!

And then I bet him a hundred thousand, and he raised me to some crazy number, I called, and we showed our cards.

Well, since I had stacked the deck, I had five aces, all four and a joker. The best hand in enhanced poker you could have! You should have seen the look on his face...

I'm sitting here waiting for one more poker round, but I think he has disappeared into his house.

Tomorrow I'm going to take that shower I've been promising myself for a while, then I'm going to use my new shampoo and some great smelling soap, and get my front end ready for some ultra sound!

No food or drink in me after midnight. Looks like I'm going to be a hungry thirsty man come noon! I need to find me a local, down home, bbq joint that serves whiskey shots under the table. Let me absorb that ultra sound in peace...


The Urban Stubble Cowboy is one of these young good looking guys with abs, a trimmed goatee, and a five to ten day stubble.

They're everywhere, in the movies, in the media, on the street, you know what I'm talking about! This version of man is what women are conditioned to lust after.

Real men don't give a fuck and let it grow out if they want to, but these guys keep the stubble trimmed to just the right length, because it's perceived as manly and sexy.

It differentiates them to women from the gay guys, who are going to be more tightly groomed, or fully bearded, at least that's what it implies.

It is The Look!

My friend Elizabeth has written a fan fiction novel about the TV show Arrow.

Fan fiction is fictional writing in an amateur capacity by fans, based on an existing work of fiction. Her's is 103,000 words long and she is about to publish it online.

I've known and worked with Elizabeth over several Summers at the Tubing Company. There is downtime between trips and I've had many intelligent conversations with her. She's very smart, a substitute teacher here, and she reads my blog, which affirms my assesment

I'm looking forward to reading her fan story about this Arrow guy. I started watching it on Prime and it's good! The main character is Oliver Queen, a billionaire presumed dead for five years that comes back as a super hero. He's hot!

It reminds me of my life, presumed dead many times but I always bounced back. On a few occasions I was a super hero, but not many.

I should go by the handle: O liver Queen!

Before I went to Tampa a while back, my doctor did blood tests on me that indicated the rise of specific enzymes inside my liver. They wanted me to get a Liver Ultrasound at the hospital, in fact the hospital called me and wanted to make an appointment.

I told the lady I had stopped drinking and I would get a new blood draw when I got back, maybe I wouldn't even need it! Why do alcoholics try to fool themselves? I lasted eleven days and was back drinking when I got the blood test.

I hadn't heard anything back so I figured I was in the clear, then the hospital lady called this morning and said a new order for a Liver Ultrasound came in on Monday.

I guess it's time to get this done, and I'm booked for tomorrow at 1000. I can't eat or drink anything after midnight.

Hopefully my liver hasn't hit the fan. I've always known it's my most vulnerable organ.

If I have a liver disease, then I would have to decide how to handle it. If it's something that could be treated by insurance paid substance abuse treatment and a pill, I'm up.

If it's shot and needs a transplant, or if it's liver cancer, then I'm down. There is no way I would undergo any kind of surgery or radiation treatment.

I've made this old mans bed for decades, and I'll lie in it!

Been sitting around with neighbor Daniel tonight playing cards and trying to get him into Netflix's new series Obliteration. It's got a great mix of special forces saves the world, with wild decadent parties in Vegas.

Daniel won two of the about twenty hands we played, and I was on a roll, must have been that Vegas energy. I think the show messed with his mind, and I took advantage of that. He also got into a rut of shuffling the deck way more than needed.

I told him that my son Riley turns 37 next Saturday and that we have a formula for remembering ages. If I'm at any age on his birthday in December, just subtract 40.

It seemed like a good excuse to call my boy since I figured he would be commuting home and we could talk on his hand held. It was nice, my phone on speaker phone and Daniel sitting in on the talk.

My couple of friends do this to me all the time. The tech is so good it's like we're all sitting in the same room.

Riley sounded great, confirmed the number was 40 and he turns 37. He said he recently thought he was turning 38, but the 40 rule applies.

He also strongly encouraged me to make the trip South to Pensacola to spend Christmas with Shelby and friends. My boy is an old soul and I value his advice!

My first memory was as an infant, less than a year old. I was laying on a living room floor watching my mom wash dishes in the kitchen. I shared the memory with her and described everything in detail. She confirmed that it was our California home when I was a baby.

I find memories fascinating. It's truly amazing that our finite space of brain matter manages to store so much data! But, I have a theory, I think human memory storage is finite, it has a limit, just like our storage devices, and it's not a definable number.

When storage is full, the brain starts juggling memories like the super computer it is, keeping the important ones in a special queue that lets you extract periods of your life, with time as the index.

Old memories just start getting compressed down to accommodate new ones, and it all starts when the brain is full!

That baby memory is as clear as any of my memories from this afternoon, it's just the first one to land in the special queue.

My afternoons dissolve into a mellow blend of crawling around on the floor looking for my legs, while watching news, music, netflix and prime, youtube, email and text. Mornings are devoted to tiktoc.

I love consuming knowledge, and our amazing world provides it. It comes from everything we see, hear and feel, and it forms our perception of life.

Creativity is a state of using knowledge to form something new. For me, writing can be an out of body experiance, where I'm compelled to express, to create a new idea, stretch an old one, or establish my truth.

But maybe I should have just written a book...


Do you ever have one of those mornings where Things just weren't happening as smoothly as you hoped they would. Like the old lady waitress standing around talking to everyone, while my breakfast gets cold in the back, and then forgetting the toast!

One of those mornings where you miss every light on the way to the grocery store. And you know you'll encounter at least one dumb ass hick who doesn't know he can turn right on a red light.

As I started my shopping at 0815 at the Lawrenceburg, TN Kroger store, I felt the vibe was just off. Nobody smiling or making eye contact, stockers working each isle. I ran into somebody as I rounded every corner, I encountered a person day dreaming at the bread isle, with a big cart, right in front of the hamburger buns I wanted. I'm polite, I just waited.

I was under attack by the Kroger vibe so I just grabbed the basics, self checked, and managed to make it outside, almost getting runover in the parking lot.

As I read this back I realize I'm so full of shit they should operate on me to remove it. We create our own vibe by what we present to the world, and the vibe I've been putting out there lately ain't been pretty!

Folks around here are not going to smile and interact with a frumpy old man pushing his cart around thinking the vibe is bad, expecting folks not to be friendly, and they're all in his way...

I do piss and moan a lot, and rightfully so! My inability to walk properly is not my fault! My lost love, poor old lonely man shtick, is pathetic.

Truth is, only a few people like me enough to put up with me. I'm over the edge, the crazy old blogging ex-computer guy, who shares too much.

This is my Shtick!

My FGD (Favorite Grand Daughter) Shelby and I have been chatting about Christmas again, and she may land down in Pensacola. I know that straight shot down through Alabama run very well now, done it a few times!

It would be great to get a road trip under my belt, before Santa hits the road. I need to come back alive, wash my clothes, get out of my house and my rut!

She has many friends there, including mutual friends Homer and Stormey, and I don't know what my event planning, travel agent, who the hell knows what secret government job she has now, has planned?

But I'm up! I have not had a single person here in Southern Tennessee invite me over for Christmas. I don't want to spend another dismal holiday hunkered down on this dead end street!

Daniel and I were casually playing poker tonight with the News on and we both drew first hand, ace high straights within minutes of each other.

We talked about St Lewis where his aunt lives, and what a tough neighborhood it was. I remember landing at their downtown Greyhound Bus Station one evening five years ago. I was in the process of getting back to Idaho after driving a U-Haul here with all of our stuff.

That night I walked out into the street and got stoned with a young Nashville guy I had met on the bus. We taxied to the liquor store and bought small bottles, then we hung out in the dark with the downtown street people until our bus arrived.

When we transferred onto the Westbound over-nighter, he and I sat together and shared stories all the way to Montana. The folks trying to sleep on the bus probably hated us.

I caught this great line from the new NetFlix series I've been watching all day, (called Obliterated}: Embrace your demons, only then will you finally be free. I need to think this one thru...

I want to accept myself completely for who I am as a man now. What are my desires in life and how far am I willing to go, to achieve them?

What are my values in life, and how do I hold solid to them and constrain them solidly within my heart?

Damn world, just let me still drive my truck!

It's 2100 on a Sunday evening. Think I'll mosey down to that little bar on the beach and have a couple drinks. Later I'll walk out into the surf barefooted with anyone that want's to take my arm.

I'm old, I have great knowledge to share, and I listen well! I have lived an amazing life, and now I'm living one that's trying to make amends in small increments, any way I can.

Making amends means to acknowledge the bullshit you have injected into your current small little world, and apologizing for it, then, give back with what little you have left!

I love the conversations that I have with my small remaining family. When I talk to my son Riley, grand-daughter Shelby, or nephew Brian, it's the real deal. If I want to dig deep they allow me, respect me, and love me.

Thank you God, for the internet, cell phone service, email and text! If my level of human interaction was limited to Southern Tennessee, with a few special exceptions down here, I would come visit you soon, my friend.

Here's my son Riley with my decades long friend Beryl, thirty six years ago.

Update: I just got a text from Beryl in Hawaii and she said: Omg I looked at the picture before I read the caption and thought "That looks like me". It made my day!


Here's Shelby, Kim, Riley and Shelly in Oakdale, CA.

Man, the things you see on TV these days. Always Ultra Thin, goodby gush fears! Gordon Ramsey looking for earthworms in huge piles of rhino shit to make a meal for a Zulu king.

Heading out this morning with Daniel on an empty stomach and one drink in, to Hinie's for a build your own Bloody Mary brunch.

Just got back, what a joke. Service sucked, everyone that worked there had an attitude, food was mediocre. And the build your own bloody mary thing was blotched because our young waitress insisted that everything was back at the bar. No sweety, you bring the glass and the vodka to our table first.

They took the young thing off our table after that, and more than five different people showed up while we ate, trying to handle Daniels request for freeze wrapped ribs from the back.

Finally, some frumpy old lady disappeared with our debit cards into the back for more than fifteen minutes. omfg.

This was my second visit here since Hinie's opened a couple years ago, both have sucked, and I will not be back.

But, I have to say, the Mary I put together kicked my little Hinie! Every sip had me gasping for breath and rolling my eyes back into my head!

Tony kicked our asses in Poker again last night, and we almost finished that bottle of Irish Whiskey. I like Tony, he's a big ol Southern boy. He does what Daniel does, school maintenance, just in a different county.

The fact that Daniel's trying to get him to shorten his commute and come work with him here, speaks volumes for the guy. Daniel's a perfectionist with his work quality, which is heating, air, electrical, and every other thing that could go wrong in a large fourteen school district.

But Tony ain't sold yet, he's looking closely at his options, while beating us again in Poker. It's a real hoot to hang out with intelligent craftsmen, we shared stories and laughed hard.

Daniel said I was really out there last night, which means I was talking sex, and Tony was cracking up while Daniel covered his head and shook it in dismay. Hey, when you drink a lot of sipping whiskey with OldManJim, on top of everything else, you get the real deal.

At least I was dressed, my dishes were done and my bed was made! I'm back in my robe now, it's a rainy dismal day, I have nowhere to go, and I may not make it out of the robe!

Oh boy, I'm in trouble now. Daniel just called me and said he and Tony are coming over tonight for a poker game, and I need to buy the whiskey, because we drank all of his last night.

It's 1300, I'm still in my robe, drunk and stoned, and a couple of friends want to play whiskey poker at my place tonight!

Hmmm, and I got to eat. Guess I'll put a TV dinner in, get dressed, and do my dishes!

All done! And I have determined that the Marie Callender's Kansas City Style Pulled Pork Mac & Cheese Bowl, is my favorite frozen meal. Kroger's was out of them for a month, I should have grabbed more than two.

Daniel brought by sippin whisky last night. It was that Irish stuff we had at the poker game a while back, and it was dammed good.

I didn't go to bed until 0230 and then I slept until 0900. What kind of grown ass man lives like this?

I thought of going out for breakfast, or lunch, then I made me a drink, fired up the pipe, and I've been sitting here watching lesbian porn all morning.

Some people say I don't have a life! Especially while I'm still in my robe as noon approaches and I haven't yet eaten, but I beg to differ!

Every time I roll out of bed and plant my bare feet on my rented wooded floor, I shout "Fuck Yea!". I've survived another day and I'm ready to start a new one!

The only plans I had today was to pay my rent and mail an envelope. Maybe tomorrow...

It's Friday Dec 1. Riley's birthday is the 9th, it's 24 days until Christmas, and I'm still alive, fuck yea...