I’ve got flotsam-head but no flotsam.

Things are breaking down here. Tom’s truck is seriously troubled and his laptop sighed and died. Dollars are growing wings and flying away.

Everybody, everybody, everybody owes me money. Every dollar is already earned and long since spent. And my mailbox was completely empty today. I slumped to the post office floor and sobbed quietly.

Not really.

I have lots of little stories to do, lots of tight deadlines, lots of annoying little moving parts. One of the stories involves working with the Choctaw Nation. Working with the Indian Nations can be exhausting. In a way, I admire how much they don’t give a damn about our high-strung ways and needs. But I also embark on stories involving any Nation with dread.

Oh wait, I just got a marvelously helpful phone call! OK, then… never mind.

I’ve been having lots of fun this summer. Lots of parties and dinners, barbecues and gigs, trips and lunches and cocktails. Wheeeeeeee! It’s been grand. Now I’ve had enough. Leave me alone. I have nothing more to say. Go away.

See how much fun I’ve been having?


Photo by Crazy Picture Guy Scott Mankoff

I love this photo. It was taken after the reunion gig of Tex Edwards and the Swingin’ Cornflake Killers. The SCK haven’t played together in, what, a decade? More? They rocked. It was great.

Our lives flashed before our eyes that night. All the old folks made the scene. Ex-wives and everything. We relived our youth. And of course, every great club night ends up in a stinky alley outside a club, which is where this photo was taken.

It was grand.

Will our night at the Choctaw Casino Resort in Durant, Oklahoma be as much fun? I'll let you know next week.

Labels: griping, memoir, travel