Bye bye Blogger.com

I've decided to finally upgrade to a real blog hosting service. You can find my new blog here. I'm still learning how to use their format, but bear with me. Thanks to everyone who has visited me here and commented. See you at the new site!

How do you say...sweeet!

I'm still stoked on this little baby, even if it's a tad slow on the processor side(1.4GHz), and I have an old crap-tacular Dell monitor. People look right at it and say, "Where's the computer?"
I also just bought a cheap digital camera, and have been on the lookout for weird or interesting stuff to document. Say tuned!

Ten Days of Crap!

Ten days straight of work-related BS is now behind me, thank God. I want to apologise to anyone who has visited my blog in the last two weeks. I've been extraordinarily stressed-out from the holidays, and the few posts I manged to squeeze out were admittedly piss-poor: even my favorite detractors withheld from commenting on my banal, sentimental observations. Usually they're all over my shit. I must has been doing something right to piss so many people off.
It's good to be back.

Independence Day Blues

The Fourth of July. It used to mean something to me. A parade, firemen’s games, junk-food concession stands, logging contests, a swim meet, afternoon concerts and evening jam sessions, fireworks big and small, crowds of unfamiliar people mingled with crowds of those known since childhood, endless stretches of beach seen at night lit by points of bonfires, clouds of smoke backlit by kaleidoscopes of color. A night that made me a believer in love at first sight. My little sister getting married at the Battery Point Lighthouse. The night I got poison oak over every inch of my body after wrestling with a madman at Whaler’s Island. The day you see those people you see only on the fourth, for the rest of your life. When Nigel, Daisy and I blew the crowd away at Beachfront park. The same when I played with Slimliquor at the same place, years later.
What does it mean to me now? Nothing. Another day of work at the liquor store. Happy birthday, America.

The Church of Steve Jobs

FINALLY! I am now the proud owner of a brand-spanking new Machintosh mini. Small, but sufficent. It's so nice to be back blogging from the privacy and comfort of my own home/computer. I also have password-protected all my stuff to prevent "accidental" data destruction from malicious siblings who will remain unnamed.
I spent the better part of the morning at an educational meeting presented by the ABC concerning sales of alcoholic beverages to minors. The Elk Valley Casino is opening a bar beginning July 1st, thus most of the attendees were Casino employees. Yawn.

A three hour tour...

Today was Father's Day and I spent the day doing something I wish my Dad would have spent one day of his life doing with me. On a whim, I went fishing with a group of friends, one of which just happens to be a commerical fisherman who owns and operates his own boat. We went about five miles out to a special spot he'd plotted with his GPS navigational system and did a bit of fishing. Funny things overheard while fishing:
1. "Do fish have ears?"
2. "I hope don't fall off the boat..."
3. "I wish I could do this for a living."
4. While noticing a good-sized piece of wood(part of starboard dock bumper) hanging off the hull of the boat,"That can't be good."
5. "There IS no fish and game in this town."
6. "Okay. Now catch a green one."
Luckily, Brett and Matt are excellent fishermen and thus we brought home more fish than we could eat. I was treated to an amazing and beautiful trip, and kick myself for not bring a camera. On the trip back to port we drifted in close to Battery Point in an abortive attempt to hook some Ling Cod. It was cool to see Crescent City from the rocking deck of a bona-fide fishing boat(okay, crab boat). It was also almost worth going on the fishing trip just to hear the stories of how Matt boiled down his attempts at wooing a beautiful young waitress at a local watering hole into the desperate drunken plea of "What is it gonna take for you to let me fuck you in the ass?" Out of context this might seem rude and crude(well, it is), but knowing Matt AND who he propositioned lightens the comment to comedic gold. Thanks to Brett for an unforgettable Father's Day. Go to his website and buy his tuna.

My Tsunami Fantasy

1. I REALLY wish a huge wave would have hit Crescent City. In my tsunami fantasy, only the evil would be killed and all the ugly buildings on the waterfront(and stupid "resort" hotels built on my birthplace) would be destroyed.

2. All of my talented but as of yet unrecognized friends would get their fifteen minutes of fame from the news coverage immediately following the "disaster".

3. Crescent City's non-existent local economy would be revitalized by federal disaster relief funds.

4. After much deliberation on how to best help the locals, State officals would tear down Pelican Bay State Prison and replace it with a CSU-system four-year college. Prisoners would be used to build the new school and then would be given free education(if eligible). Far-fetched but fun anyway.

5. All of the local crack-heads would rush to the beach to watch the wave and would be washed away with the rest of the trash.

Holy Tsunami!

Yesterday we had a bit of excitement in the form of a mild earthquake followed by a Tsunami warning. I was at the Surfside Brewery with a friend when the earthquake hit, a gentle shaker that rocked the building for about five seconds. Having lived in and around California for my entire life, I've been through other earthquakes and have gotten used to them. Just a reminder that there's bigger things going on, I guess. I had the remote to the T.V. set above the bar and quickly scanned the local channels for E.B.S. info, tsunami warnings, etc. and there was NOTHING. I thought this was strange...it was obviously a big earthquake, but no warnings, no news flashes, no sirens. Thirty minutes later the police told everyone to leave. "GO TO HIGHERGROUND!!!" THIRTY minutes! The "tsunami" had already hit! The local police, however, continued with a panic-inciting "evacuation" that caused more psychic truama than any earthquake generated wave. My friend and I drove to a bluff(Brother Johnathon Point) and waited for something to happen. I was secretly hoping for a city-ending wave, which never arrived. People freaked out and drove like idiots, clogged evacuation routes, and got in traffic accidents for nothing! Basically, if there had been a wave big enough to cause damage, the only real warning was the earthquake itself. The wave would have hit and no one would have known - the police, the whole warning system failed in accomplishing anything but scaring and panicing alot of people.

great moments at work, pt.1: people who think they know you

I'm at the cash register, co-worker is outside smoking. Enter one on-again, off-again girlfriend of one slightly crazy older brother. Said girlfriend has a readily apparent drug problem, drinking problem, and personality disorder. She steps up to the penny candy counter, drunk and high enough that standing in close proximity would cause you to fail a drug test.
"Hey, I know you", she says with one hand in the tootsie roll bucket, the other hand full of coins. I'm busy ringing someone's purchases up, so I don't immediately respond.
"I'm not a thief! I pay for my shit", she murmurs nervously. "Yeah, I know who you are..."
I glance over and nod. "Ok, just leave your money on the counter there." This is common practice at the store. Some people take longer to deal with than others, and in such situations you send them over to the secondary counterspace. The penny candy area works wonders when you need to stall someone, or just give them their own little space to babble, fumble with change, or ooze fluids.
She senses that I'm brushing her off. Quickly, she's on the offensive.
"You know what your problem is? You're a --------(my last name). Yeah, you're all the same." Blah blah blah.
I come from a large family, six sisters and two brothers. In a small town, this means one in every four people probably knows you or someone in your family, or at least has heard of someone in your family. You can never escape this. You are always judged in some respect with the collective reputation of the family in mind. Sometimes people mistake you for a family member you vaguely resemble, and sometimes you magically transform into this person.
When you're in my family, everyone's got your number.

Sage Advice

One of my favorite people has written a great post on flamers, nutters, or as I like to call them, assholes. Anne hit the nail right on the head with this one.

coffee shop blogging

So I'm posting from a local coffee shop now. Great. When Rayjen Coffee first opened, it employed a few friends of mine. They were quickly fired. I have to be honest; they probably weren't the best employees an upstart coffee shop manager could choose, but they were my friends/aquaintences none the less.
I'm already tired of this setup. The manager slash owner is annoying in the strictest sense. He really likes the phrase, "You're the Bomb!" When I asked him about the internet usage policy, he said,"Your time, my dime" like he'd thought up this as a clever tag-line. He also laughs like a donkey on speed....Huyk huyk hyuk!
Thank god for my walkman. Yes, I know, no ipod...yet.

I'm back!

First of all, I'd like to apologize for my extended leave of abscence. Posting remotely has proven to be much harder than I orginally anticipated. I haven't read ANYTHING posted to my comments section yet, but be rest assured, assholes will be deleted. Next, I have posted an old post I mistakenly saved to draft instead of publishing to post. Sorry for that, too.
What, you may ask, have I been doing with all my free time?
Working, playing drums in my band, working, reading alot, and watching the first season of Scrubs on DVD. Sue me.
I'm looking forward to getting back on the blog-horse. I'm also psyched about going to my good friend Dominic's wedding this coming weekend, an event for which I was actually able to get time off from the dreaded liquor store.The last Jewish wedding I attended was one of the biggest parties I have ever held witness to (other than Halloween at "the land" in Trinidad), but I'm also simply excited to see two cool people finally get hitched.

shopping for Macs

I am soo totally getting a Mini-Mac. I'm sitting here in an Apple retail store, using my future computer to create this post, eager to make IBM-compatible PC's and cumbersome Microsoft software applications a part of my past. I've been farting around with this computer without a high-pressure sales pitch or salesperson breathing down my neck for almost two hours now. Buildings are burning down outside and I don't care.
I should address comments posted by my favorite reader, but I won't take the bait. Just in case you didn't get the message before, Mr. Dude-can't-stop-himself-from-commenting-on-a-blog-you-clearly-dislike, I can and will delete your comments if you continue spewing hate and anger. Even better - start your OWN blog and get down with your bad self. I actually like hearing what you have to say and am SINCERELY flattered with the time and energy you spend reading my posts. Unfortunately, not everyone shares my fond feelings for you.
Consider yourself warned, and as my Hwa Rang-Do instructor used to tell me when I let anger get the better of me, "Watch Your Heart!"

the other side of getting your ID checked

Last night, for the first time in my life, I was carded at a movie theatre. Three of my friends and I were really bored and decided that sitting in a dark room full of strangers would be a good way to take our minds off whatever was collectively bothering us. There's this particularly feisty old woman who runs the box office at the local multiplex, and normally doesn't cause any trouble. She must not have liked the looks of my friend Jamie, because she asked her for a picture ID(the movie we were going to see was rated "R"). None of had identification, as the last thing I expected was to be carded for popcorn with butter flavoring, though it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to start doing so. It is my beleif that "Butter Flavoring" is a mind-altering substance, but I'll talk about that some other time.
I'm thirty-one years old and look like it. I stepped forward so the old woman could hear me.
"Do mean to say that you're actually not going to let us in to see the movie?"
She nodded and returned her attention to Jamie who was going the distance, arguing our case, pleading with the woman that we were all well over the age limit(seventeen!!) required to view the polished hollywood turd.
I walked away, livid. My other two companions followed suit, while Jamie continued debating but eventually relented. I then realized I had my camera with me, and walked back to the box office and snapped a picture of the old bitch.
Some of you might think this is a petty thing to get worked up about, but it really pissed me off at the time, and several others have told me stories about this woman's stupidity. If you're in Crescent City and you go to Crescent City Cinemas and see this woman at the ticket window, tell her to eat shit for me. Thanks.

downtime

I'm sorry to report that due to computer issues, I will be posting remotely and thus less frequently for the next few weeks. I the meantime I will been writing material the old fashioned way (pen and paper) for posting at a later date. I'll be back, and thanks for reading.

Fellow Victims

In a recent email, a friend of mine and former Crescent City resident, send me a list of likes and dislikes about our shared hometown.

“So here is what is sucks to me about Crescent City (obvious) the smell of poop,
fish, grease, what have you. Um, the gray, gray, gray. The flat roof
architecture. Rain. Poverty, poverty, poverty. Meth, lack of diversity, gossip, the
whole tonka town look of things. Like corporate pop-up town. Burger King,
Safeway, Subway, homogeny. No shopping for music, books, clothes, yarn, beads,
whatever. No sit-down coffee, nothing open at night. No good pizza. No
felafel, no Indian food, no Japanese food. Um...not really many trees
in the town. The generally conservative attitude. Wal-mart. No frozen yogurt.

I like the low rate of violent crime, relatively low air pollution, and
pretty minimal traffic. Thai food, Mexican food, the elk creek trails,
the ocean, Tom and Sarah, Tessa's mom's house, Nigel, Pele Winds. The
easiness of it. Like not paying for parking and the bank and groceries and post
office all conveniently near one another. A few other people (not that
many). Alanon, seeing the ocean when driving towards it, like on “H” Street. The
view of the trees around the back drop of town. Fries at the bowling
alley. Strudel at Continental Bakery, Kona shakes at the drive thru by Taco Bell.
Some of Stephanie's (Circle J’s)goodies. One thing I like is the help I've gotten since
things are low-key. Like person-to-person help at College of the Redwoods and access to legal advice from George Mavris and stuff like that. Oh, and Red's Showcase Twin Cinemas.

Then for Del Norte: Lisa, the Redwoods, Azaleas, the Smith river, sometimes my
Dad's house, Jojos at the hamlet.”

Graffiti for Tots

Today was my only day off, AND payday, and as my younger sister was in town after finishing up finals week at HSU, I accompanied her and my nephew to a local park. A few years back the entire town got together and pitched in to build a sprawling, warren-like structure for the children which they named kidstown . It's one of the few really cool things in Crescent City, despite the fact that it was constructed almost entirely out of pressure-treated lumber, which is full of carcinogenic compounds.
It was a beautiful day, with huge thunderheads rolling by like airborne warships en route to faraway bombardment. While playing hide and seek in the play structure with my sister and her son, I noticed that someone had written some nasty graffiti in conspicuous locations. I'm thinking, luckily most of the kids can't read this stuff. Then I wondered why no one had sanded it off. I took some photos with the intention of showing the Parks and Recreation Department the vandalism and hopefully getting someone to remove it.
Some of it is actually kind of funny. My favorite is the male and female nudes. Enjoy!

mommy and daddy? 

kids these days... 

Female Bloggers

I know I only have a few readers, but I wanted to throw this out into Blog-World. I've been reading alot of blogs lately, and most of what I read and enjoy content-wise are written by women. Now, aside from the fact that I male and interested in all things female, I just have to say that in my humble opinion women blog better. A short list, in no particular order:
1) greek tragedy
2) art. humor. larcney.
3) suzie bright's journal
4) dooce
5) tuckle rori

Check ID and Intuition at the Door

I carded a guy today. He was buying cigarettes and he looked really young, so I asked to see some identification.
“Dude, I’m like twenty-four...” he said.
“How I am supposed to know that?” I asked. “Show me your ID and I won’t ever ask you for it again.”
“Man, I don’t have it on me. I buy smokes here all the time. Dennis knows me.” he pleaded.
I turn my head to the backroom and yell, “Hey Dennis, is this guy eighteen?”
Dennis lumbered to the check stand. “Yeah, he’s cool”
At this point, the customer is pissed. Having been verified as a legitimate cigarette buyer, he assumes a self-righteous air and is annoyed at my interrogation. I attempt to lighten the mood.
“Well, you’re really aging well.” I wise-crack.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he responded angrily, snatching the cigs from the counter-top. I had to stop myself from breaking out in laughter. As I rang up the transaction, he’s already halfway out the door.
“It’s meant as a compliment. It means that you look younger than you actually are.” I can’t believe that I have to explain this.
The angry idiot long gone, and Dennis emerged again from the bowels of the market.
“That guy is an asshole.” he said. “The other day he was in here and when I looked up, he had his hands around his girlfriend’s throat and was choking her.” Having shared this, Dennis walked back to whatever he was doing before.
I stood there and wondered what I would have done had I witnessed the assault, and realized that I had a right to be suspicious of him. My intuition was screaming at me, and I wasn’t listening.

I've got to go back to college... 

Buy Two, Get Addicted for Free!!

Tobacco distributors have an innovative promotion that we stock at the liquor store. Purchase two packs of Camel Filters (or lights) and get one pack ABSOLUTELY FREE. I love this marketing strategy, and I love that I get to be their unofficial spokesperson. Whenever someone asks for a pack Camels I say, “Are you sure you don’t want the buy two get addicted for free deal?” with a straight face.
Eight out of ten go for it. I just want people to be absolutely clear what they getting. For free.

Open letter to anonymous

Just Another Small Town Guy, or Dude, as I inadvertently renamed him, has asked me some questions which I have left unanswered. First I'd like to say that I appreciate everyone's feedback and comments. If I directed anger at you in a response to a comment, it was accidental. Living in this place for so long has produced some resentment which sometimes I am unable to control. Why start a blog, why not volunteer for a local service organization to funnel your frustration and anger into something positive? I’ve tried that. Didn’t help.
I’m pissed off at myself for not extricating myself from this town. I’m working on it. While I’m here, I thought blogging about myself and the people here could be therapeutic, and hopefully somewhat funny. There are many things I didn’t see coming which seem stupid in retrospect, but one thing I don’t want is this blog to turn into forum where people rip on one another and call each other names.
PLEASE be nice.

Shopping with the Family

Here's a question. Who brings their kids when they go to the liquor store to shop for booze? Junior is helping Pa find the 100 proof Schnapps and little Jeri Lynn is giving Ma a hand because she can only carry two gallons of Wild Turkey without dropping something.
While I stand at the register in shock, it suddenly dawns on me that it's possible these kids will have good memories of the liquor store when they get older. Mom and Dad are in an expansive mood. They're buying the kids all the soda and candy they want, and mommy, why is the cashier giving you dirty looks? It could be the only time the family unit spends together when Mom and Dad aren't hungover or wasted. I'm screaming inside my head. As I count change back to Pa, he looks at me thankfully and says,"God bless you, son."

Seamounts at end of Damnation trail. 

As much as Crescent City itself eats ass, the surrounding area can be astonishingly beautiful. Here's a picture of my sister and my nephew hiking down Damnation Creek trail on Mother's Day. 

Del Norte in Top Five Places to Live

I was reading the May 2005 issue of Scientific American and apparently they disagree with my basic assumption about where I live. They rated counties throughout the country on a number of different envirnomental and geological factors. I agree that it's pretty here, but I still think Crescent City sucks. I tried to link to the article, but it didn't work i.e. I'm too stupid to figure it out. You can, however, read the full USDA report here. Yawn.

guidelines for blogging

A few hours farting around online yeilded this, but it seems that the issue is divided on blogging anonymously and simplying going for it and ignoring all the people who have been fired for blogging. In California, your employer can fire you anytime for anything, so I might as well continue. Word to the wise - If I had simply kept my mouth shut in the first place, no one at work would have known about my blog.

Can Blogging Be Libelous?

At work today my supervisor came in on her own time to have a chat with me. She usually opens the store and is gone by the time I arrive.
"Michael, could we have a chat in the office?"
I'm thinking the till was off or something and she wanted to ask me about it. At the worst.
"Have you been writing about us on the internet?"
It was the last thing I expected her to ask. How the fuck did she find out? I'm not a good liar, so I spill the beans.
"Well, yeah I have. But I didn't use anyone's names and it's all just harmless ancedotes..."
"The Owner is old school and he doesn't want you writing about his store. Okay?"
I'm a coward. She hasn't threatened me with termination. She also hasn't said I can't write about the customers which are what really interest me anyway. But I have a feeling that if I continue posting stories about my workday and the people that populate it, I could lose my job. Until I do some research about the legalities of what I write being somehow illegal and me getting sued or fired over it, I'm going to stop writing about the store. If any of you reading are bloggers and know anything about this kind of stuff, HELP! I could use some advice. I wanted to quit but I thought that it would be melodramatic and premature.

I'm a moody bitch

I didn’t think I was going to make it today. The linoleum-covered concrete floors hurt my feet and my co-worker insisted on smoking indoors, filling air already thick with human smells with acrid cigarette smoke. A light but steady mist billowed on the streets outside, evidenced by damp currency and dripping wet customers. I usually like the rain, water purified by evaporation and condensation that falls on my town and cleans the dark gray pavement stained by desperation. But tonight the sweaty mist roiled in air and empty streets. No stories about lunatics : tonight I’m the lunatic. Maddened by my existence in this town, my hometown. My attempts to romanticize it bares it’s teeth and reveals it’s true character. This place never opened itself to me, never took me in and accepted me for who I was when I was younger or who I’ve become. I had to leave to be accepted, only far from home could I discover my true self. I consider myself a failure in this town. I can’t take myself seriously in this place. I’ve got get out of here.

Folk art, a block from the liquor store. Imagine stumbling apon this scene plastered! Thus the sturdy steel construction. 

Here's the lighthouse looking south and...Sasquatch!! 

Battery Point Lighthouse. 

A lovely new cell tower graces our skyline... 

Looking north towards Point Saint George. 

Gray day

Spent the day riding around town with a camera taking pictures. I'd meant to head up into Jed Smith State Park for a mountain bike ride through the redwoods, but I got sidetracked and ended up cruising around and taking random pictures. Band practice was cancelled, so I'm going out for a short jog and then I'll get to the top ten lunatics posting. Here's a couple of the pictures...

Brown paper bag please! 

The famous Discount Liquor. Actually one of the most popular stores in Crescent City. 

Get yer porn here!

Life slithers by here in my surreal corner of the world. I made it to my first payday at the liquor store : $75.36 for two days of catering to the diverse clientele of Discount Liquor. They are not all bad people. They've just made careers out of making bad choices, as did I when I decided to move back to this shithole. My most recent favorites: smokers. Either in ignorance or contempt of state law, many customers enjoy their cigarettes while shopping for their morning/afternoon/evening alcoholic beverages and next package of smokes. When told to extinguish said cigarettes, most customers feign deafness and in one instance actually was deaf.
Runner-up favorite customers : the savvy porn shopper. I've never worked in a store that sold porno before and people on the porn-purchase mission tend to display strange behavior. Basically they come in two flavors, the unabashed, shameless porn hounds and the guilt-ridden I'm-not-really-buying-this-no one-can-see-me-buying-this-or-my-life-will-end porno sneaker. You know what the porn hound/bitch is up to when they come into the store. They want porn and they don't care who knows about it. It's three in the afternoon and the store is full of grade school kids, who cares! They think a naked female with a cock in her ass is wholesome fun for the whole family. Their attitude and deliberate manner can be annoying and in some cases, a liablity. I try to get them on their way as soon as I can, and don't under any circumstances encourage them. The girl who was training me on the cash register the other day actually went over to the dirty magazine rack helped and pair of ladies pick out porn. I don't think I would take that liberty with my job description. Their openness and liberated sexuality can be uplifting and inspirational, but is mostly just plain annoying.
I feel bad for the sneaky porn buyer guy, and yes, it's always a guy, and want to suggest that the internet might be a better venue for their purchases since buying smut in public seems to entail undue stress and planning, but they don't hang out long enough to talk. Usually they have uncanny timing and magically appear when the store is empty, a feat that can only be achieved through careful planning since the store has a steady stream of patrons throughout open hours. Small talk is kept to a minimum and eye contact is avoided at all times. I attempt to cater to their sense of shame and check them out as fast as possible, and resist the temptation to fuck with them. Can't let my powers as a cashier in a liquor store go to my head.
Coming tomorrow - Top Ten Raving Lunatics!

Everyday is like Sunday...

I just downloaded and installed Mozilla's firefox browser, still checking out the features. If you haven't downloaded it yet, get it here. If nothing else it's buttloads more secure than IE. Fuck microsoft anyway. I'm gearing up to go help my friend Rob tune and set up his new drumset while he brews beer. It's a pretty sweet kit, and I guess he scored it for only $400.
In a fit of in incredible boredem I went to a celebrity soundboard site and prank called some "friends" of mine. They'd ditched me in order to attend a monster truck rally! Why do I associate with people who would go to such an event? Fuck if I know. I used to work as a front desk clerk at the local Best Western and I would get prank called by someone using the Arnold Schwarzenegger soundboard and I thought it was hilarious. I always wondered how they did it and now I know. It was a nice break from idiotic tourists asking me how to get to the drive-through tree. Only in America... People come from all over the world and what do they want to do? Drive their fucking cars through one of the wonders of the world, the redwood tree. The German tourists especially. Vear isss drive-tru-tree?

Thank You For Shopping Discount Liquor

Thanks to everyone who has visited my blog. The job's going ok so far... An endless parade of weirdos and drunks with an occasional normal person. My theory is that the store was built on a magnetic meridian that attracts a particular sort. One of my favorites is this little boy, the same one who couldn't get the lid off the gummy bears container. Last night he mosied in and just blurted out,"Do you guys have any solid food? My teeth kinda hurt, and..."
It's a liquor store. We sell beer, wine, hard liquor, candy, snack food, and porn. I wouldn't consider anything in the store other than the small supply of milk healthy food. Solid food.
"Nope", I said. "You've definitely come to the wrong place. Maybe the beef jerky..."

Don't ever ask me for advise if you come into the store. I am not a licensed dietitian. On the other hand, I would be happy to recommend some lite reading material...

It's only a matter of time... 

First day of work; second day of blogg

I started work at the liquor store today. It's funny how a person can work these kinds of jobs, the jobs you hope and pray you'll never have again, and somehow you end up there again. The last job I told myself I'd never do again was "customer service representative" at a local indian casino. It a job title euphemism George Carlin would love.
You don't earn a living wage at these jobs. You're lucky if you can pay rent and have enough money to pay your utility bills. I try to romanticize the experience : maybe I'll accumulate material that I could use to write an interesting story, or maybe I'll meet the woman of my dreams while working, or that these unfortunate circumstances are necessary dues that must be paid in order to appreciate future opportunity.
I'm at work hoping for excitement. Maybe armed robbery, or if nothing else, drug-crazed weirdos with a change scam. The closest I got today was a twelve or thirteen-year-old boy who couldn't get the plastic lid off the gummy bear container and proceeded to spew out a stream of turret's-like profanity/gibberish. That and the drunk lady that offered oral sex in exchange for a small discount on a gallon of whiskey.

I was looking for a job and then I found a job...

After two months of humiliating interviews and job-search groveling, I finally found a job. I'll be working at a local liquor store, starting today. If nothing else it should prove as further evidence that Crescent City does indeed suck. I'm not really looking forward to waiting on speed-freaks, drunks, and weirdos, but it's better than nothing.

USGS image of Crusty Shitty

worldwind image of Crescent City, CA

my first blog

Hello! This is my first blog posting, so go easy on me. I stumbled on someone's blog recently and decided if they can do it, so can I. Hopefully I can use my blog as a forum to inspire something positive or cool in this shitty little town I live in. Crescent City Sucks! Anyone with half a brain will agree with me. Don't get me wrong. It is beautiful here, but there's nothing to do. No music scene, no venue for bands even if there was a band passing through that wanted to stop and play. It kinda reminds me of this movie a saw when I was in college called "Dingo". Basically the plot centered around a famous jazz musician(Miles Davis) whose plane had to make an emergency landing at some desolate village in the Austrailian outback. The band, having nothing to do while the plane refuels, sets up on the runway and starts to play. A little boy who lives near the airport hears the band and is forever altered, becomes a famous musician, blah, blah, blah. Go rent the movie, even if it's just to see the last appearence of Miles on film before his death.
My point is that this town could use some culture. Something other than a maximum security prison.