Saturday, November 30, 2002

yo yo yo. super quick note in the midst of checking e-mail here at the g-town HQ. Thanksgiving was a chronic feast of enormous magnitude. Actually had two turkey nights in a row with two segments of the fam, so the estomago is muy enormo y full. It's been good times being back in my hometown, been catching up with some old friends and hanging with la familia, which is always good. Hope all of y'all in bloggerville had a good turkey time and all the wild travels, whether cross country or cross town were safe and fruitful. (frutiful? really guy?)

anyway, I"m outtie, we're gonna go check out my Grandpa's gravesite and say what's up to him. Hope he had a nice turkey ghost feast up there in cloud acres.

Alright that's it for me, till next time. adios and aloha.

Wednesday, November 27, 2002

Live... from G-Town... the Italian Stallion... the irish cannibal... the originator of the satin sword club... the oldest school marm on the easter seaboard... ladies and gentlemen, I present to you.... BERKELEY JOE!!!!

Thank you thank you, no really, everyone sit down, please. You're embaressing me, really. OK, now, seriously. Now, folks, before I start singing you the songs that spread the aloha like nobody's business, I just want to say, that besides Berkeley, Glendale is the town that really captured my heart as a young boy. There is just no place like it. I mean where else can you look at the stars from a world class telescope and make a quick jump to Sunset and score the finest crack known to man? It's just fabulous. Well, ok there's lots of places like that, but you've got the Galleria, dammit, and that is saying something.

Before I do my striptease and 5-stud poker lesson, I just want to express to you all how much I appreciate you suffering through these crazy winds the last few days to set up this amazingly clear view of the mountains for me up in here. I know Ocean view is usually smog-vision, but today, it's like camp crystal lake up in this bitch. It genuinely puts a tear in my eye and a skip in my step. It's like water on a shady afternoon.

Now, before I get really deep into my Deeprak Chopra inspired philosophical love-fest, I just want to convey to you my sincerity in saying that G-Town is keeping it real, I mean I saw a 2 year old kid with a diamond studded gold chain, and that was just the busboy at the Mickey-D's. Now that is some Thanks that needs giving.

Alrighty then, before I dive into my cover version of Hall and Oates' "Private Eyes" with the 7-minute harmonica solo, I just want to say, it's damn great to be doing my first mainland gig since I hit big time, and there's no better place I'd rather make my non-island debut than the home of Bob's Big Boy. And with that, settle in, lubricate your ears for maximum pleasure, and don't forget to keep your eyes sharp, cuz there will be a magic show. The stage is set, the curtain is drawn, and the player(s) are on their marks.

Enjoy the show.

Tuesday, November 26, 2002

well hello there. I have exactly three minutes worth of time to dedicate to you, starting now. Leaving for the airport in an hour. Goin back to Cali, keepin it real like LL and Biggie. G-style. As in G-town not gangsta. Still sick, throat sore as hell. Slept like shit last night. Suckin on cough drops and drankin my secret stash of gin and juice, you know, for the vitt-a-mins. I always wanted to say vitamins like the british, vitt-a-mins, that would be so much better, I really think that would increase quality of life throughout the country within a fortnight. seriously. Alright one more minute. what to say. there's so much emotion, so much drama to forsake. really not, but well, yes. all packed up and ready to fly. Cali, it will be good to see you again land of my birth. Maybe there'll be an earthquake and I can reminisce and breathe in some smog and sit in some traffic and really feel that slice of home. OK time's up, much to do, zero time to do it. Ta-ta!

Monday, November 25, 2002

shite. I feel like shite today. Of course the day before I'm going to the mainland, it seems I've come down with some nasty ass cold. Throat sore as hell, phlegm up to here, chest pain, stuffy head, fun fun fun. You know what did it, I think? I fell asleep on the beach yesterday. Cloudy day, kinda chilly, fell asleep and woke up feeling nippy. Later that night scratchy throat. FUCK. Should have learned from John Travolta as the Boy in the Bubble. He went to the beach and fell asleep and came down with a cold too. Luckily I don't have boy in the bubble disease or else I'd be really fucked. Oh well. Shit happens. It's almost lunch break, time to go stock up on oranges and get me some vitamin c action. Ker-plop, just popped two day-quils. We'll see how that works out.

Ok right before I head out gotta talk a little shit. Cal whupped up on Stanford's sorry ass! I'm not one to say I told you so, but... Also, the Raiders beat up on Arizona. So it was death to all things cardinal. Denver and San Diego lost so it's a 3-way tie atop the AFC West, beyotches, with the Raiders in the driver's seat, momentum and all that, plus Griese's sorry ass leg being busted up (bummer) - yeah I'm really broken up about it.

OK I just got back from the store and picked up some oranges. Like a dumbfuck I forgot to pick up throat drops. What is it about being sick that it turns my brain into mush? I stood in the store with my bag of oranges like, duh, mcfly, um what? I didn't feel like eating anything other than oranges, but lemme tell you these oranges are acidy as fuck and burning my tender throaty-throat. Hmmmm. Ok, just had a few more, throat is adapting to citric factor. Working… working… stasis achieved.

Yesterday was a cool day. Mrs. P had to read a book, the Awakening, by Kate Chopin, which she hadn't even started, for her English class by today, so we had a reading day. (Well, I had a reading afternoon, after watching the Raidaaaas). We went to the beach for a while and read. We went to Starbucks and drank coffee and read. We ate Mosburgers in Waikiki and read. We went to Starbucks again and had more coffee and read. (Well I had more coffee, Mrs. P had carrot juice). While she read about some 1800's lady that is frustrated with her inattentive husband and wants to have an affair with a 15 year old, I caught up with my long neglected copy of The Satanic Verses. Damn that book is frikken good. Salman Rushdie, some of the knowledge he kicks, makes a guy wonder why even try to write, cuz I don't think I could come close to that level. That's like that otha level style that Bushwick Bill talked about. Anyway, phat book, I'm on the home stretch, about 80 pages to go. Definitely worthwhile read, check it out, but be prepared to simmer your brain in a vat of philosophical ponderations. The way that book is put together, the deepness under deepness under the well of comprendederos, you're cerebrum will be spinning, but in a good way. It's amazing how he balances such heavy material but presents it in such a kickback casual style. It really goes all over the place, from the streets of modern (well, 80's) London to the ancient times of Mohammed (here referred to as Mahound) and all kinds of points in between, examining the natures of good and evil, our understanding of the basic concepts of right and wrong, human nature, the whole nine yards.

Otay, time for me to eat oranges and stop thinking. Adios. Maybe back later maybe not. Fly to mainland tomorrow. Hope I don't feel too coldy-sicky on the airplane tomorrow, cuz then my ears get clogged up something fierce and that does not make johnny a happy boy.