Inside Doug's Head

I am not a number, I am… What's that stuff they make glue out of? I'm that. Forever swirling, forwards and upwards, but always sticky. Sometimes, a little sad.

And something relevant about Jack Kerouac. For some, probably dark, reason, I am back in Texas. Visiting friends and people I don’t know. As usual, it’s 97 degrees on the F scale, and 100% humidity on the swampy-ass scale. COVID is here, but the related California insanity is not. A stranger just bought me a beer, and I smell barbecue. Two hopefully unrelated facts,

Everyone seems to know each other around here, and I seem to be some sort of a novelty. They keep asking me if I am lost. A lot of dog talk, too, and I don’t have a dog. I like beer, though, and that should count for something. What’s so bad about being drunk? Ask a glass of wine.

A lot of anti California sentiment around here. Something I also understand, but if I currently live in California, am I Californian? I hope not; otherwise I am going to have to buy a lot of people a lot of drinks to make up for Pelosi and Waters. I don’t even get to vote, because I am here legally.


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