Headless chicken walking. somebody famous said if the U.S. of A. were to become fascistic it would come "wrapped in the American flag." Well before 9-11 , some braver individuals are laying out parts of U.S. history that have been less noted, that demonstrate since World war II the U.S. is strongest and gets most of the world's raw products and in its scheming overthrows independent third world governments, frequently democracies, setting up governments easier controlled by the U.S. which are frequently dictatorships. The same while, the U.S. constitution gets whittled down. In this scheming, 9-11 came favorably, for more constitution to be denied. Citizens are frightened into giving up more freedom for more law, trusting their own children will not be...detained....Already this population of the U.S. is psychologically chained, at their television, unto pleasure in the punished, be the punished a tortured mother from their own land or illegal workers or humans in other lands who try to fight back. Our nation roars its rightousness in its might, and our couch potatoes hope their children do not step over any lines. Before a third world gang hits us again it is our right to nuke them. Who ever. Nuke a few, get them all. Ladies and gents, belly up if you like, but we at are telling your children not to.

Bix had not got to forming us an electric and contemporary opening for 0ne evening upstairs in Aransas and quaffing Guinness and listening to STUPID GIRL by Garbage in a CD Madrea sent (I like STUPID GIRLS's total sound, so what the visual appeal of singer Shirley Manson when she does it.)(Being STUPTID GIRL first on the CD I play it about three times consecutively, which is followed by ORANGE MARCH from Clockwork Orange which is cheerily innocuous but then comes a bunch of Enigma stuff, and a charming girly singer there too. I am a bit old for these girlies, 61 past Sept., but I admire the whole of the sounds, the craft, the judgements, smart kids.), I slapped down the main nuance of #CLVI's opening paragraph, it came to me, which can too be used to open as Bix wants. How this can work for me, the music and the drink, pleasure hemisphere inspires the emotional which activates language that causes some focus, merging to more a mental whole, in as I am sat down in preparation for it. Were I whelmed on LSD on a galloping horse bareback cross grassy fields, but vague preoccupation inside my rumbling mind already, why, possibly, the next morning at coffee could arrive quietly a fine sentence in English, about something for which I care.

This latest opening at is not necessarily very electric or eyeball grabbing, but Bix agrees it can do for now. Bix and I be talking and he is talking with his old mother who keeps watching C-SPAN, and Bix's impatience with the shadowy government is bordering on rage. W. is a frat rat he could smack across the mouth. Bix hates to look at W. on the tube, muttered he wishes we could do something about him right now.

We can't just come in shooting. Civilization is not protecting the children or the old much or the unfortunate but sets up the less honest, the most kiss ass wormy, shit ass punks, who parade as tough guys, under shelter of Marine Corps and arsenal of nukes.

These are idiots. It would be sufficient to carry on like old England couple hundred years back colonizing an empire, but these people jump about neurotic in their chickenshit power, cause more international pain than helps get what they think they are after, same time speaking such inanity to their citizens that it is shocking, unbelievable. Their gibbering stem cells and God and patriotism and drugs and terror and abstinence and better schools and collateral damage and family values was plenty fantastic already, then their boy began hammering this fine old English word, "evil," labeled three actual countries, said he wants to get first Iraq, and his handlers are trying to catch up to him since. The vice president, in his looks, is but insane - that wired jaw, what is that? - maybe he is having strokes, hiding out a lot but he went visiting the Arabs, seeing how easy to jump on Iraq, if I understand any of it and maybe I don't. It is difficult to conceive, only Cheney or people in his administration did not know all the Muslim countries want no more wreckage on the Iraqi population, and impossible to believe Cheney did not know neither would he have European acceptance, outside the British flunkey government. Trying to peep through this crack, or that crack in a wall, for me is hard enough unto distraction that this last coffee morning in Aransas with both my brothers Kelly smiled evidence has it this administration had known previously of 9-11's coming. He tossed out that for me, I was looking over something else in the newspaper. Mike and I are getting on very well now, he is crazy, deaf to any of this, I accept his being this way and we get along. What? said I, looking up. Here's another conspiracy for Bill, laughs Kelly. Naw, Kelly, look, I'm just wanting to know, did these guys know about this beforehand? They had the information, spoke cheery Kelly in his coffee, and caffeinated Mike Olive tossed in something in his turn, and the morning ran along, and I never got to finding anything on that one.

It is tragicomedy, but horror, and mystery. Our guiltiest president is Carter the Babtist, who sorrows from his reign's genocide and CIA sponsored torture in Guatamala. 0ur most schizoprenic is Ronald (let them eat catsup) Reagan, naked via his utterances, acid rain comes from trees, the homeless like living in the streets. Bill (lob a few more into old Bagdad) Clinton apologized to the Guatamalans, it was some years after exterminating one generation of peasants (and they did not go easy, sometimes women had their breasts cut off or their faces skinned or had to watch their children dragged in and out of barbed wire, re. Noam Chomsky), I was at the cabin listening to NPR when hearing him apologize, whatever he thought he was doing it really was not much reflected in the main media, NPR is main media except DEMOCRACY NOW of what I know, to apologise to Guatamala should not a president apologise to Nicaragua and E1 Salvador at least, for being raped, murdered, tortured into fake democracy alongside, now some individuals are working to pin Kissenger and Nixon and gang for destroying a peaceful Chilean government, in these means. Good luck, and how does anybody begin there.

"I think, legally speaking, there's a very solid case for impeaching every American president since the second world war. They've all been either outright war criminals or envolved in serious war crimes."
Noam Chomsky

What is happening? Strangely hardly noted in main media is the NAACP is suing for how many black voters got run off from the polls in Florida. Being this so, ought one not to figure the NAACP believe W. got in illegally? Kind of astonishing this is not making the headlines. Is hollow Gore gone quiet in a fear?

Jackson had sent me THE CHOMSKY TRILOGY~ which are three small booklets or long articles, hard covers in a cardboard case. U.S. media fears such as Chomsky or Nadir, though in this packet, praise is presented from Jerry Brown, village voice, New york Times, Chicago Tribune, Rolling Stone. Maybe that is the total main media praise he gets in the past couple decades. In the editor's forward is this: "In a saner world, his tireless efforts to promote justice would have long since won him the Nobel Peace Prize, but the committee keeps giving it to people like Henry Kissinger.

Kelly will get the material next, the slowest reader who has to watch basketball too, meanwhile Steve, Bix, John Brundrett and I are struck how Chomsky shows that since at least the Second World War, there is a scheme, for brutal world dominion. We had heard of these matters, singularly, assumed it incidental inhumanity from stupid greed. But, no. It is an ongoing purposeful attack on the world of man, conspiracy for murder and torture the way to go.

Chomsky sounds quiet, a little humorous sometimes. It has behooved fools to pick at his statistics, but this trips them upon themselves. Chomsky is no bullshit, but is highly intelligent. He does not sensationalize or exaggerate. These little booklets do provide his sources. I have noticed a single point where he is casual on the statistics, but nor does he hide this. He had been talking how this country has more religious fanaticism than any other industrial country, could get wrapped in God and country were to come the charismatic right Hitler (yes, and the person said U.S. fascism would come wrapped in the American flag is Huey Long), and he speaks of being astonished at one study on Americans by an American sociologist that was published in England on this matter, then he says: -
"Just a couple of years ago, there was a study of what people thought of evolution. The percentage of the population that believe in Darwinian evolution at that point was 9% - not all that much above statistical error. About half the population believed in divinely-guided evolution, Catholic church doctrine. About 40% thought the world was created a few thousand years ago.

Again, you!ve got to go back to pre-technoligical societies, or devasted peasant societies, before you get numbers like that. Those are the kinds of belief systems that show up in things like the God-and- country rally."

Dear Reader, it is not in context that perhaps Chomsky and I differ any on how conscious the universe is of itself. What he says here blew my mind. I was considering maybe Chomsky a bit careless here, tossing out these incredible statistics he had heard somewhere, and I did show this to Kelly, before I was to lend the material to Bix. And Kelly surprised me. Kelly thinks these statistics are too careful, he says many people including educated people believe in Adam and Eve. Kelly believes at minimum half the people in the U.S. take the Bible literally, don't care Adam and Eve is ancient cross culture myth, do not believe in evolution when it has to do with mankind. Literal Bible is the entire world but a few thousand years old, etcetera. Bi11, you just don't know people like this, you never have contact with them, but it is probably more than half like this.

I asked opinion of John Brundrett. John doubts half the people actually believe in Adam and Eve. John says they just say this. He thinks they never think about it. Bob Brundrett is about the only person I know who I am certain professes to take the Bible literally. The Brundretts were Catholic and but for their sister Mary Jo they fell away from organised religion, except Bob, who went Pentacostal somehow. Said he did not like going to Confession. He was sending Jimmy Swaggart a hundred a month then Swaggart fell so Bob sends his hundred, his tithe, to Billy Graham. A few years ago Bob was up in his TV chair and I sat looking at the Discovery Channel, this program showing dinosaur bones in the stratification of these diggings. I said, Robert, but what do you think of this, these dinosaur bones, which are many thousands of years old?

Robert: I don't know.

Stupendous. Bring on cyber-terrorism before we get killed. I keep my money in this little cedar box with a picture of wolves on it Madrea sent me. I do have a deer rifle, superior instincts, a Medicine Dog who hunts and has an extraordinary nose and ears.


Received Last Laugh just as I was going to mail this letter. It is now my morning study time. I rise at 4:50 so as to get in morning run on school track and then still have hour and a half or so study time before classes start, so better just keep this to a few impressions. I am supposed to be studying about 15 hours a week on top of job, so time pretty tight lately.

Nice to hear about Lyla and Daddy Bill's sentimental moment listening to Mahalia. They maintained their true love until the end. Even in his addled state, Daddy Bill had strong sense of Lyla and family. This not so with my grandfather on Griggs side, who physically perseveres, but mentally has already moved on. I don't think he has smiled for a couple years now. It is sad.

This of keeping the headless chicken alive is amazing. Did they pour food into its neck hole? Do you think it was not farce? I am surprised Mike did not take more interest. How many days do you suppose they kept it going like that? Whether it has nerve centers in its neck or not, it is surely an unprecedented event, and thus remarkable.

I enjoyed hearing about your writing process. Hadn't realised you will on occasion do a 4th draft of something. Do you always jot down by hand on paper first? Why the double-space version? A1so thought your comment on over-editing interesting. I have fallen into that when I thought to write something to apply to writing departments at grad school. Would get so hung up on a sentence, just fucking around with style, meaning relegated to the sidelines. Seems Fitzgerald was an obsessive re-worker, as opposed to Hemingway, whom I've heard would write while standing.

Striking data on Iraqi deaths. I've heard others claim Chomsky skews his facts. Whatever. Who doesn't. Point must be made.

Probably Madrea will come to Hawaii for my wedding. Should be good time.



Dear Wild Bill,

How's it going.

I am really amazed at how fine the site is becoming.
Seeing all your fine writing, and fine writing from Bix and artwork.
Great to see your old classics in print. Sargent Felix, Tortilla Hike, Emmeryville, the Fairy Tales. It is a lesson in generosity we could all learn.
Thanks to the developers.

I had never seen a color artwork from Steve Vaughn before. They are fantastic. The Dancer and the Blue Being.

And the Hornbills from your mom, Lyla. What a fine creative soul she must be. I hope your father is OK.

Thanks so much to you and the creators of this site. Nice subdued western colors. You all can be really proud of this. Even got the APHS reunion material for the class of '60. Cutting edge cusp people no doubt.

I saw a letter from Andre Carpineux in the Guestbook. Cool.

I happened to be over in Emmeryville the other day, and looked up Andre's house and Millie's on Ocean Ave. I went up the cinderblock steps and knocked on Andre's front door. No one answered. The house had those large hand written signs in French in the windows. Absolutely nothing has changed. It was like going back in time.

I walked by Millie's place. Blue walls. Giant agave cactus out front, bearing fruit. I didn't want to encounter Millie. Her place is much the same.

You would be amazed. These two houses remain unchanged, though the neighborhood has grown into condos and all kinds of big industrial concerns all around it.

I went into Aquatic Park where we used to walk the pit bull.

I hope to get out to Texas for my nephew's wedding on April 20. It will be a fine country wedding in one of those small hill country towns outside of San Antonio. He's marrying a girl of German descent. A real smartie and a babe. Don't know how I'm going to get there, too old to hitchike. Worried about TB on the Greyhound. Can't afford to fly. Like to take a train.

Well, I hope this finds you well.
Michael Lyons

1187 Coast Village Road
Suite 1-300
Montecito, California 93108

(805) 886-5656

(805) 565-1073

1 March 2002

Dear Bill,

Thank you for your feedback on my various novels. I 've enclosed an earlier one that remains my favorite.

I am also enclosing your book. I like it very much, but I'm in the process of moving to London and I don't want to lose it (esp as it's your only copy).

Your book seems to have cultivated a following. This is a good thing. Word of mouth is a book's best friend. Have someone who surfs the net try to track all that is written about your book. When you have a chance, pop whatever churns up in the mail to me:

78 Marylebone High Street, Ste. 747, London WlU 5AP, England.

I will bring such material (including the Burroughs blurb) to the attention of some good editors in London.

As for Corinthian, I am connected only as an author. I don't think Corinthian has much of a future (small houses in general), so I'm moving in a different direction.

Stay in touch.


I happened to bring it up to Bix I had quoted him on his liking to smack W. across the mouth. Next day, Bix phoned Aransas in request I delete this. He fears getting on a list or having FBI come to his door. I tried to reason.

Bix: Maybe I'm paranoid, but I just want to go watch the basketball game.

It was disconcerting to me in my weekly fight night, Friday come to Lyla's in Aransas. I think this is what set me irritable. Kelly and daughter Jessica drove in (Jessica flies to San Antonio from San Francisco) from Seguin to see Lyla. I was watching boxing and Kelly and Mike would between rounds switch to the basketball game. Highly disconcerting, I'd miss a few seconds. I am ever applying boxing to the unlawful situation, where firstly there is this exchange without referee. Too, I like to observe the psychologies, this poor man's sport where some guy has had to focus on the severe training and then is in his corner with his advisors, the boxer is having to fight, ready or not, whether his wife has left him, how much drinking did he do - the guy is in a pressed situation, can he cool it and respond to the ruled athletic endeavor, and this first fight was this hungry 18 year old Mexican who had had some defeats, but who enabled to edge this previously undefeated U.S. fighter, even as the U.S. fighter had the better jab and the stronger right hand. Goddamnit, I get to watch boxing maybe once a week and you guys can watch basketball any day! Kelly is sensitive too and he thinks this is why I was irritable.

Meanwhile it was taking me overnight to decide I cannot be revamping something in Last Laugh because one of my partners is worried about the Fumbling Bumbling Idiots. If a known columnist in the free united States of North America, say Molly Ivins, said, this whippersnapper ought to get horsewhipped (yes, Molly did not say this), would she be on a list? Ah, mebbe so. But, goddamnit, has been little acknowledged, to be bringing in any feds. Is this not so? Fuck, whatever, it is time to fight back. I'm fighting back, have been fighting back. Maybe I am on a list. yah,yah, ya bastards, come'n get me!

I was up here on the deck and two cars of the Fumbling Bumbling Idiots turned on up into our driveway and I began getting the second or back car with the 30:30 deer rifle, bolt in a round and squeeze off for head shot. Three were in the back car and the front car hung onto a gnarled oak - the back car bashed into it - driver's door on back car snapping open and driver rolling on ground, but a grease on his skull he comes to feet waving, stumbles bloodily back around onward past our mail box and across North McCampbell into brush flailing and falling and struggling and he vanished. Floating above scene I see these things. Wild Bill has reloaded and comes out of the front door and the garden gate of the 0live residence bolting rounds and firing from hip. Medicine Dog yelping crazed. Nedicine Dog is terrified by explosive noise. The surviving four Fumbling Bumbling Idiots are rolled out on the other side of the hung cars and got out their pistols and the soft nosed 30:30 rounds mostly are not in their deflections tearing clean through the automobile on the gnarled tree. Wild Bill wearing baggy pants runs clear over this first car - hood to roof to leap into crumbling a 300 lb. mind gone Fumbling Bumbling Idiot. Nedicine Dog has instinctively rounded the jammed cars and torques into the skull of a Fumbling Bumbling 1diot who was looking for his gun. Wild Bill clubbing two 1diots before him the gone 300 pounder lurches up to paw at energetic wild Bi11's back. Medicine Dog hamstrings the fat one and as he rolls screaming guts him. There was not much of consquence left then. Wild B11's backpack was ready and he and Medicine Dog hit the Aransas brush and vanished.

But we intellectuals are willing to live among humanity without the adventure of higher adrenalin, generally. Mostly, we druther not be in Afghanistan carrying a machine gun, or in the Americas. Yet re. Chomsky, the ignorant wage earners in the U.S. are getting less money and more fear and agitation. Re. Blackolive, escapist drugs float the U.S. economy and the U.S. government likes it so.

It was Sunday night returned from Aransas Pass I biked Medicine through community park in Port Aransas on schedule, just past dusk. Next to this newer park in growing Port Aransas are a few houses a couple of years old. We turned on into the park about the same time came this odd young fellow elbows pumping in his exersize walk - odd, in this is not behavior of a true local, for one thing. We will round the park on this sidewalk which leads to a connecting walk, that goes a few hundred yards in the coyote/jackrabbit smelling weeds and Brazilian pepper bush, for Medicine to scurry off leash, for seldom do people walk that far. Before we could round the walk past these new houses and unleash him, a puppyish large male dog was ignoring his yelling mistress and running to check out Medicine. Soon as he got nose to nose Medicine smelled his testosterone and growled and the young male responded in growl and bristle. I was stopped, alert to not getting jerked off the bike, as male dogs commonly perceive Medicine is leashed and know no better than to try to bite him. Medicine bit the dog, who yelped and sprang away, all while the woman yelled from some location at these houses. But this dog sprang on back in to fight and Medicine took his ear and the then frightened dog went on yelping.

Before I could one handed lay down the bike a small mob of humans came running. Maybe booze and crack, possibly a half dozen, both sexes but including one or two very young teenagers, if I am remembering. They were filled with ill feeling and nonsense. Their consensus held me to blame. I had not their adrenalin but no patience for their ignorance. I prefer to get easily off bike and proceed to tell Medicine to let go, not jump off and excite either dog worse. One can even be petting the striken dog while telling Medicine to let go, etc. I understand now in view of the drug addled little mob I was arrogant. Besides, there being this commoner outlook that my owning a pitbull is unfair. Instantly, one childhood abused bastard had the yelling dog and was striking him. I dropped bike and got in anyone's way to Medicine, rather than punch any male who hits Medicine. But, abruptly, Medicine let the whipped dog's ear get jerked free.

I remember some of the mind gapped argument, off mainly two aggressive young women. Didn't you see blood! I told you to get off your bike!

I could not verbally register with these people. Said you have to calm down to break up dogs but, they figured they had broken up the dogs, not knowing Medicine, nor a next pitbull. My politeness was taken as weakness. I own the pitbull, which is practically illegal, etc. The little mob got uglier. I said I'm tired of this dumb shit happening. 0h, so it's happened before? huh, said one, and another, who had been the most obnoxious after the two young bitches, said, what's your name, buddy?

Hey, asshole, you want my name?

I had concluded to be rude as they. Some fool, I was holding leash and bike and he came up into my face. Hard to recall, I had to drop~ either leash or bike to hit him, or not hit him when he is telling me to not call him asshole. In my awkward position I turned enough loose to left hook his jaw, and he did not drop, so I repeated the little hook and he did not fall before our clinch and I bore him to the ground. He was smaller than I, if any 200 lbs. it was because he is pudgy. In that second the others were jumped into pulling on me, perhaps smacking at me. There is a bruise inside my lower lip and a tiny bruise on an eyelid. rThe younger of these two women went onto my back and pulled my hair with both hands. She snapped the chin string on this jungle hat lately given me, like the Marines are wearing in Afghanistan, heh. Not having had their adrenalin, I felt tired and knew the value in getting free of this poor circumstance. A1so they were all willing to break it off. They sneered when first I thought my glasses were broken - they were not, just dirty. What an ugly little bunch. I guess the asshole was slightly humiliated, soon as I was back astride bike with leash of Medicine he was telling me this is not over. He got in a little close again and told me don't push him. I knew we had to move along, let him get off with his amount of honor. When all the others pushed forth toward where they had come from, this most aggressive young woman hung back still arguing her shit at me. Who would want a bitch like this. I told her get real.

Besides the ever uncertainity of dealing with any outnumbering group of crazed humans, I was unhappy I had not rendered the fool unconscious. The double hook was arm punching, not a thing on my hand. Depressing, I need to be rough. This is ongoing conflict in past decade or so, in the very few scuffles I am unready and do not do something to damage the other guy quickly. In the daylight my appearance is intimidating, there is seldom clash physically, then I am seldom ready.

Irritated, before we got back to the house, I likened this mindless arguing with that addled little mob to governments trying to rule the world, U.S./Israel/England telling Arafat do something and he is under helecopters and tanks and so on. To pretend he can send a messenger or do something became the pretense of the addled mob blaming me for the mistake their poor dog made. I dunno, in TALES FRON THE TEXAS GANG we shoot these fools. I don't know of any of their women, in the pretty book, but they could just run.

Your dog jumped on mine.

No, your dog jumped on mine, I saw it! Why was it your dog had my dog's ear in his mouth!

My dog is a fighting dog, he is faster.

Funnily, when Medicine Dog (none of the affair meant much to Medicine) and I had proceeded, followed the sidewalk to this gazebo it ends at and then come on back, and he was yet running free, way up by these bars was the odd young man who had been doing the exersize walk, now windmilling his arms at us. I did not know he meant this to me, and we went on by him and he had jumped upon the bars, nearly went atop the whole thing, these bars where like the Taliban training thing the TV kept repeating one can swing along underneath changing hand grips. Presently, I understood him, he was hollering to ask if my dog had calmed down yet. He had heard the fracas.

Like John Brownrat later smiled, many people nowdays do not know what is a dog.

U.S. citizens are fearing demons.

Life with Jim and Bob has been normal. I bring in Jim the weekly 18 pack of Red Dog cans but discovered he likes to abandon one or two good swallows per can. This I found out when John was complaining how messy it is for anybody to bag up Jim's cans snatched at a couple of cans that poured beer. I took to complaining to Jim, here I buy him this good beer. Criticism annoys Jim, who also does not register it. Maybe it's the pills, sometimes Jim's cans retain three or four good swallows. He eats from my croc pot, chili and split peas with bacon and so on, leaves his little bowl with remnants and spoon, next meal begins with fresh bowl maybe spoon too, whether next bowl is found in the cabinet or stinking sink. Right now at Jim's end of table are four bowls which I have filled with old beer atop food waste and tiny flying insects die in this bubbling, swelling stuff. When Jim and Bob sleep their morning and I sweep the living room I pour out these cans in demonstration. Jim ignores the matter but I know he gets my point, whether he attends superstition or mere sloth. Early afternoon generally before Bob Jim arises, seeks a beer before coffee. In a while he babbles, sits at his end of table. Some hours further along he will look for a little bowl to put some out of the croc pot into. This is the pattern when I am here. Next in the general day Bob comes off his couch and sits a while staring, has coffee and bowel movement before he turns on the television, Vietnam Days or something, and so on. There is a daily rerun Vietnam series where men scream during fire fights and can weep and be sensitive when not in fire fights and so on. One afternoon beery Jim was proclaiming how it's like they never left Nam. Couple days later in some schizoid parody he's hollering kill that gook. My door is open because I'm pulling stuff together to go to Aransas the weekend, finally have to contribute, kill a commie for Christ, by God! It's really pretty funny, Bob born again sits staring, blank. When I'm set to pull out I say, well, Robert, guess I'll see you guys maybe Sunday. O.K. answers Bob. Next I tell Jim to have a nice weekend. He ignores this.

Now however Mike Olive is fixing to go back to Boulder. Lyla says that I might as well gather my stuff from Port Aransas. Somehow it has been slow for family all to come to this simple reality. Kelly put in that the SSI people would cut down on my money if I live with family, don't "pay rent."

I had forgotten this - Bob had signed that I pay him rent. When Medicine and I were at the cabin, Bonnie had refused to sign I pay rent,on principal. A principal she has, if the Dear Reader may remember, B.E., Lyla, Mike Olive, keep this principle, to not lie to PG&E or the telephone company, not to count these bureaucracies frequently intimidate and rob poor people, it is the principle. And at the cabin I ate some dogfood and always sent Madrea her spending money and so on. Wow, was that big gobbler Medicine Dog caught so good, and I still have his claws. Anyhoo, my old mother needs one of us there. Too she gives me fifty dollars a week for nothing, so Madrea has spending monies and I am fat. Madrea is taking college courses to be finding a scholarship, sounds certain she will, some kind of newer deal with high school kids. I got some hundreds ahead and am mid May flying in for Madrea's high school graduation. She wanted me to. I look forward to meeting her weirdo friends. A couple are talented rock musicians, on these CDs she's been sending. Lyla is getting upset, wants I cut my hair. Well, hell, I do not need to scare any idiots at the airports. An amazing world. Yeh, I fit in with the rock'n roll youth, always have.