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A Summer Memory Wow...Somehow 11 or 12 days have passed since I last posted anything. Once again, as usual, it's not for lack of writing anything, just for lack of time to translate from handwriting in notebook (yes, those of you at L'Owl's Tribe Holiday Party, I really do that) to typing into the electronic daemon (this from a former IT manager...go figure). Of course, this is not a REAL entry; this is just something to tide you over. It's especially dedicated to those who might be wondering, "What ever happened to the old DJRainDog who used to crow about his sexploits at every possible opportunity and then wax trepidatious that someone who oughtn't to be surfing the internet might stumble upon his musings?" To you, for example (and others of your ilk), who I know rarely read this anymore, but who "used to be so amused at Napoleon in rags and the language that he used," (if I may borrow Mr. Zimmerman's words from what has been said to be the greatest rock & roll song ever, for a moment), I offer the following, by way of encouraging response: By the way, did I mention that on one of my last trips up to Maine, I stopped at a rest area in New Hampshire around midnight to take a wicked wazz and ended up fucking this hot little blond-haired blue-eyed beach-jockey from Florida who was home visiting his parents just over the Massachusetts border in the front seat of his Mommy's car, right there in the middle of the parking lot? Well, I did. I'll spare you the details, but his name was Patrick (or so he said); he was maybe 23 or so; he smelled of salt air and suntan lotion, boy-sweat and beer -- there was even still a little sand in his hair; and he just happened to look at me wrong (or right, as the case may be) as I was on my way back to my car. So, uh, yeah, these things do still happen to me, and, uh, naw, man, I still don't really understand how or why... ;-) r
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