a pony by any other name is still just as tricky...

okay...where do I start...before the mushrooms orafter the pint of whiskey? Before the scotch orafter I arrived in Palm Springs Drunk after asloppy night of debauchery, which could easily be labeled as deceit-under the circumstances...Howabout start somewhere after the beggining-becausethe story isnt really all that linearanyways,plus its my tale to tell-so why botherwith foreward-when all you want is the climax.Theclimax would be passing out cold in the terminalat SFO and nearly misssing my flight...my cohort,a sleepy, brooding,type from the far reaches of last summer-actually missed his plane,and when hefinally did arrive at his destination-had forgotten his keys,in a pair of pants (ones which I dutifully removed-after the whiskey-whiledrinking the scotch) and could not leave theairport...I, weeeelll lets see...I flew down toPalm Springs...a ticket paid for out love,toprovide for one last goodbye...so...to find mepiss drunk and out of sorts,smelling like I had been fucking an old lover on the floor of mybedroom did notmake4a blue screen romance or evena charming hello...and my excuse "I don't knowwhat happened,Bukowski took over-oops!" was aless than desirable attempt at shame orapology...My arrival in Palm Springs was met by a flux ofLabor Organizers and two facedideologues...syndicalism is one thing...but Ifind it difficult,the responsibility handed downto me,to bring passion to this union...to becontinued...