I guess the below is my facebook intro. I forgot even writing it but it sounds like me.
It’s three O’clock in the morning and the night is squirrel tailed and liquor eyed. Three O’ Clock West Coast time that is, same as Hollywood or Vancouver, where the night wears coon skin and brays drunkenly. It’s already time to get up on the East Coast. They have to get up three hours later than us because they have funny accents and they have to practice talking like that. The farther East you go from here the funnier the accent and the earlier you have to get up. At one point it becomes another day altogether.
There was a song by the doors called horse latitudes about the sinking of a Spanish galleon with several horses in the hold and how they died “… Legs furiously pumping, in mute nostril agony …” I’m guessing that song was written at three O’clock in the morning. It’s the type of thing one thinks about at this hour.
Everything Garcia Lorca wrote must have been written around threeish as well. Baudelaire was a seriously 3 am motherfucker too, and I think Ambrose Bierce was an insomniac and just started his second wind at 3. Those guys are way dead, super dead, deader n’ shit, which just goes to show you what kind of cruel mistress three in the morning can be.
Me and 3 ain’t what you’d call friends; no cards at Christmas, no “hey lets grab a beer and catch up” not even a “get your squirrel tail and/or Knee well soon” card. But we’re not strangers either. There was that nasty incident several years ago when I sold 3 am a Packard bell 386 that crashed and burned the second warranty was up, but that’s all water under the bridge.
Shit. That knee thing, must have been like 2002 or something. There are kids that were born that year that just finished their freshman year of high school. I’m sure there’s a few who skipped a grade and one or two that left the six grade to help Paw with the plowing or crack selling. I don’t know, I don’t think that intro is responsible for what happened to those kids. They were somebodies sweet baby honey child and now they’ve gone and pierced their nose and tell everyone to fuck off. Shit. I’ve got grandkids as old as my knee injury.
I got shitty on the phone with the GF last night. At the time it seemed like just cause. It wasn’t a fight, we don’t fight. Maybe we should fight sometimes. It’s been too hot out and I’ve been staying in. I feel caged. I got summoned for jury duty. They do things differently here. There’s this questionnaire. I took it online. I think I know why they don’t have essay answers, but some of those, the type that’d get me excused, aren’t either or answers for me. Um, that’s sort of what we were not fighting about.
I’m not sure I want to be excused but I can’t imagine an attorney for either side wanting me on a jury. So I’d go through all that nonsense and still not get to perform my civic duty. I’d rather be excused before spending a day in a little room with random registered voters. Um, I think voters, they might do it by DMV here. Everyone seems worse at the DMV.
One of the questions was whether you’d been involved in a trial, the options for participation are 1) victim 2) witness 3) plaintiff 4) defendant. I put witness, but what will get me kicked off a jury is plaintiff. Both are true and in some of my many court appearances both were true simultaneously. There were a few other questions that some folks likely needed to explain and couldn’t. That was the only one for me that made things incomplete.
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