We are not Done Yet

May 21, 2015

reno-archThe game in a small town is very hit or miss, it is best to have a set schedule so that everyone knows when to show up for the game. Thursday, Friday and Saturday from 6 PM to midnight was the schedule at the local cardroom. With just one table you need to be there on time or suffer an endless wait on the list. Some nights the game starts out weak and just falters with things shutting down at 8 PM or so. This is usually caused by a few players with limited bankrolls going broke and leaving the game shorthanded with no real live players.
One such night, there were four of us young guys in the game when it went down. We bitched and moaned about the lack of a game and the fact that we wanted to play more. We made a few quick calls down to Humboldt County looking for a game and a quick check of the Medford/Grants Pass area found no games going. At the time, Reno had pretty strong poker games going all night at several of the casinos. Reno is over 400 miles from Crescent City and takes a seven hour drive. Undeterred, the four of us jumped into a Ford explorer and took off for Reno. A pocket full of cash and the clothes on our back were all we needed to make this impromptu trip.
P. Rick, Phillipino Gene, Matt the Brat and I were headed out across the state after a quick stop for gas and snacks. A few hours into our trip the enthusiasm began to wane and Gene dozed off to sleep like a little baby. Rick and I soldiered on from the front seat as the miles clicked by and we headed south on Interstate 5 from Grants Pass toward our turn at Mount Shasta. A rest area, a stop for gas and a quick drive thru burger were the only impediments to our march on Reno.
We hit town and parked in the Circus Circus parking garage figuring that Circus would be the cheapest place to grab a room. We ended up with two rooms, one for Rick and I and Gene and Matt in the other. For $22 a night there is no sense crowding into one room.
I wandered to the poker room and jumped into a $3-6 game full of dealers and a couple locals. The game was tight and I was immediately in trouble. Nobody at the table was giving any action. I ratcheted up the aggression. Nobody seemed to ever miss a flop and I took my lumps for a couple hours. I dropped $300 in the game before I drug my first pot. That was a split pot where the elderly lady and I both made the nut straight. Yes they had a game going in Reno, it was just not a game I needed to be playing in.
I traipsed over to the Cal-Neva to see what the bottom of the barrel looked like. Circus was no frills, but Cal-Neva was just worn out and dirty. They had two games going, a $4-8 and a $3-6 with not much of a list for either game. This was during the famous two beers and two hotdogs for two bucks promo. The dealers worked hard for the quarters that were tipped in this grind joint. The chips were worn thin the carpet was threadbare and dirty. The place had a bad odor. But they had a poker game and that is what I was looking for. A drunk in the $3-6 game seemed to be giving action and running over the table. I got the seat behind him and began to play back at him. I knew this was going to be a high variance play and a bit of a crap shoot. I managed to get him to the felt before his buzz wore off. I leaked back a few chips after the action died down and I finally cashed out a $380 win for the session.
I jumped into the $4-8 game and played through the afternoon. The game was pretty dry and I was grinding around even. A tourist from the mid-west struck up a conversation with me at the table and gave me a million dollar poker tip for free. He said, “You are holding your breath on your draws”. I said, “I know, bad habit”. I made a note of it and made an effort to keep breathing smoothly and effortlessly as I could. Next time I was heads up with a good player back home, I tested out the tell and sure enough it worked. That tip was worth quite a bit to me.
We bounced around Reno for three days and two nights. I eventually made it over to the Peppermill and the $10-20 game. I was taking my lumps and paying my tuition to learn from the professional grinders. Down over $500 in the game, I had given back all of my profit from the trip. On the button, I called a raise in a multi-way pot and ended up seeing the capped flop for $50 against seven other players. I had 87 of hearts and did not feel too bad about the hand. The flop hit me hard K 6 5 with the two little ones being my suit for an open-ended straight flush draw. I got a raise in on the flop hoping to slow down the action and all it did was get me re-raised. An off-suit 9 on the turn gave me the nuts and I was feeling pretty good. There were just too many players in this hand. What could they have? The 9 of hearts on the river gave me the straight flush and paired the board. When I turned my hand over, I knew I had just won the biggest pot of my young poker life. I stacked chips for the next three hands. My hands were shaking and I was bouncing in the seat. I cashed out when the blind came around.
I grabbed a taxi and went shopping. I bought all new clothes and even a jacket. I got a little overnight bag and filled it with toiletries. I showered and shaved and went out to a nice dinner. Against all odds, we had gone on the road and booked a win against players that were far better than us.
The drive home was pretty miserable and seemed ten times longer than the drive to Reno. I still hit the road from time to time looking for a game, I am not done yet.

Poker Church

August 16, 2014

A story I love


I will start off with a curious little bit of trivia about the Poker Church in Cody, Wyoming. Yes there is such a thing as a poker church. I say that because most of my spiritual friends have a deep seated ill-will toward the game of poker. Poker is thought of as gambling and they have been preached at their whole lives by men claiming to know the truth, the will and the way of God. I heard the story in a poker game and was compelled to go to the internet to read up on the Poker Church.

I will quote directly from a blog here, At Home in Wyoming. This blog is about life in Cody, Wyoming, a small western town about 50 miles from the east entrance to Yellowstone Park. Topics to be discussed are Christian living, old houses, seasonal decorating, church, family, gardening, flower arranging and…

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Living at the Mall

August 14, 2014


I work in a very old shopping mall that has been converted from commercial to a mixed use mall with a great deal of the space converted to office space. A great number of the stores have left the mall leaving a former anchor space that was occupied by Home Express as office space for Caltrans. At one time Caltrans had an additional office space on the second floor that housed the environmental division.  The Longs Drugs that we frequented for years has left and been replaced by solid walls housing a Department of Motor Vehicles call center. Former anchor tenant Gottschalks has gone out of business leaving a huge two story space empty for many years. Throughout the mall there are many empty spaces that have been empty for a very long time.

I have been fascinated by the hulking, empty, under-utilized, and floundering mall for some time now. I spend 40 to 50 hours a week there so it is no surprise that I am fascinated by the place. The mall is almost 60 years old and shows quite a bit of age. I have nicknamed it the zombie mall because it is actually dead and does not realize it. As the mall stumbles forward day after day and year after year defying all predictions of eminent death, I notice that many of the people are there every day. This is the home for many. Yes us that work there and wander out into the mall for exercise and breaks are part of the permanent fixtures. I see some of the same elderly there every day. There is a senior center on the second floor that provides some services. I see some sole proprietor shop owners that work all day every day. They have a small apartment set up in the back of the shop. In the summer, free air conditioning must seem priceless. Several of the regulars know where all the working unprotected electrical outlets are. The free wireless internet provided by the food court has to be a great perk. The drinking fountains work and the bathrooms while not spotless are cleaned every day.

I began to wonder about the regulars that are in the mall at seven in the morning when I show up and often times still at the mall well into the night. Starbucks closes at 11, but it is not in the mall proper. The movie theater is also located out in the parking lot. The mall itself closes at 8PM and everyone should be out of the mall by that time. I began to wonder if there are nooks and crannies in the mall that the regulars know about and security does not seem to check. Is it possible that they live in the mall hidden in unknown forgotten spaces? Does the gate code for the parking garage work 24 hours a day? Probably does. Does the security code for the elevator coming up from the parking garage also work all night long? If you work late can you take the elevator down to the garage? I wonder how it all works. How secure is the mall at night? How many creatures of the night are living inside the mall?

As I was thinking about the possibility of people living inside the mall out of sight from the rest of society, I heard about a teenage boy who was camping out inside a 24 hour Walmart for four days before anyone found his camping spots. I decided to do a little research and see if there have been others who lived in malls for greater periods of time without being caught.

Stories of people hiding out and blending in on college campuses seem to be quite regular tales of urban legend. I have known people to stow away for long periods but it usually involves an assist from a friend or two. I also have a friend who has been rather homeless for years and while living in Las Vegas playing poker for a living had found an unlocked closet in a major casino and slept there for weeks before being discovered. There are other stories of people at large hospitals just blending in and staying for weeks without being discovered and asked to leave.

While all the stories of people living undetected in public spaces are interesting and quite wild, most are told by the person committing the trespass and the length of stay is often exaggerated. There is however one story that is well documented and probably the greatest example of somebody living in the mall. In Rhode Island, a man built a 750 square foot apartment inside the Providence Place Mall. This guy with some help from friends built a block wall and installed a door. He had an entire apartment set up for four years before security caught him. He did not stay every night in the apartment, but he had an apartment with a bed, couch, television, microwave, and furniture.

  1. trummerkind.com/mall/What_Happened.html

I think this was a really great answer to my initial premise that people could be living in the mall.

The List

August 13, 2014

Not sure why I picked some of these


I will post a disturbing and somewhat morbid piece today. Please do not read this!

The list as assembled in December 2008.

Dick Clark
Bob Barker
Whitey Ford
Willie McCovey
Stan Musial
BB King
Patrick Swayze
Keith Richards
Charles Manson
Andy Griffith
Aretha Franklin
Muhammad Ali
Andy Rooney
Michael Jackson
Nick Nolte
Farrah Fawcett
Ted Kennedy
William Perry
Hal Holbrook
John Daly
Fidel Castro
Billy Graham
Amy Winehouse
Kim Jong Il
Steve Jobs

I am sure the whole concept is wrong on many levels.

I only write about it because people are interested.

I apologize to anyone who is offended.

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You Never Lose

July 28, 2014

500 logo

I was whining and complaining the other day about being broke. My July allowance ran dry before I ran out of days in July. That sucks. I decided I needed to go play poker and earn some scratch the hard way. I used to play to pay my bills back in the days when I was without a job. I still play from time to time on the weekends, usually when I am out of town. In the 14 years I have been working my day job I have not had to worry about money. I make plenty of money to live a really comfortable lifestyle.

Because my expendable cash reserves are low, I was telling a friend I might take a shot at some poker over the weekend. I mentioned that blowing off a couple hundred dollars would be pretty devastating at the moment and maybe I should just be good until the end of the month. My friend says, “You never lose”. I rarely lose but I can remember real well many times I managed to lose. I have never been down to my case money. I have been scraping by before but I have never gone broke. I am pretty risk adverse and always seem to find a way to claw my way back.

My friend insisted I take the shot Saturday and I agreed that if I felt well in the morning I would go scout the games at a local room. He offered me $200 to play and go 50/50 with him. I told him to stake me to three $200 buy-ins and we have a deal. I will play on one buy-in and if I lose it we will discuss if the game is worth a second buy-in. He did not want to risk $600 so he called another co-worker and they scraped together the $600. I am getting a really good deal in that I have no risk and will take half the win. I usually eat and drink off my stack. But I have made money for these guys in the past.

The UFC had pay per view fights that were being shown in the card room. I wanted to watch the fights, but I needed to play cards and pay attention so I could win. As planned, the place filled up with people coming to watch the fights. They started ordering drinks and three of them were seated at my table. They were not the type of kids that would have too much money on them but they were not playing much poker.

Early in the session I made a well hidden straight against a local dealer and doubled up. I had raised to $6 from the cut off with 86s in an attempt to lock out the button. The BB reraised me making it $15. I called quickly and we went to the flop. A flop of 972 gave me an open end strait draw, He checked to me and I bet $20. He called rather quickly. The ace on the turn was an ugly card for me. He checked to me and I checked behind. He seemed like he was upset at missing his check raise. The river card was a five giving me the nut straight. He bet $50 and I moved all-in. He called instantly with just AK. Wow.

A few hands later I called a raise with pocket fours. This was a seven way pot for $6 each. The flop was 944. I managed to check it along and one of the young kids put a $20 bet in and I called along with one other player. The ace on the turn was an absolute monster. I checked and let the bettor move all-in. I started to call the all-in and considered moving all-in but did not want to scare the other player away. I called after some fidgeting. The third player moved all-in and I instantly made the call and turned over my quads. Aces full and nines full find no help on the river and are no good. No jackpot either.

500 pot

I managed to stack up my pot and be just over $400 ahead for an hour session. I walked over and cashed out my chips. I found a seat in the bar to watch the fights. I paid my backers and agreed we would do it again some other time.

I did not play especially well in this session. The cards just fell my way. The opponents were a few locals, an off-duty dealer, three young kids drinking beer and a single low level pro grinder.

If I pick my spots and play when I feel good, I can still play with the regulars. I can beat the tourists that happen to be travelling through town. I can beat the gamblers that come for the action. I can beat the low stakes grinders who play semi-professionally. In most Las Vegas rooms I can beat the locals that scratch outr a living beating up on the tourists. I do not need to move over to that big table and play for super high stakes against people who are better than me. My bills are paid and I just play to make a few dollars to buy my wife a gift or take her to dinner and a show.

I am very lucky to have friends that believe in me and will put up money for me to play when I am feeling very risk averse. Thanks guys.

Hard Right

July 19, 2014


Every day we are faced with choices in our life. The choices we make are akin to a fork in the road of life. Most of the decisions have a clear cut right and wrong choice; a good choice and a bad choice. My life is full of bad choices. I seem to end up in those scrapes where I am faced with a bad choice and a worse choice.

The truth is that every fork in the road leads to another fork in the road. Usually my journey brings me to these forks at an alarming pace. I live my life at full speed with my hair on fire and an extra can of gas strapped to my back. If you go left you take a safer route. The safe route is the boring way to live your life. If you go right you take additional risks and positive risks are called opportunities.

risks ahead

I always seem to turn right and increase the risk and danger of the voyage. When in doubt, keep the skinny pedal pressed to the floor, shift, and wheel the shit out of her. Holding that bitch hard over to the right carries consequences and leads to some pretty tough mucking.

We make it, we always make it. There has to be some pain and sacrifice combined with fear and trepidation to make the victories worth celebrating. You would be surprised what kind of victories lead to the best celebrations. Hell yeah I lead entire teams down that path on the right. Let’s take a walk on the wild side.

I remember a conversation I had with Paul Smith when he asked me for some coaching prior to a big blackjack tournament.  The advice I gave him: “When the choices are slim and none, always choose slim”. No matter how great the risk and how awful the odds, you have to give yourself a chance to win on the final hand. I detailed several scenarios where you take a huge risk because a 2% chance of winning is infinitely better than zero percent. My mathematical geeked-out engineer friends would call it division by zero. Paul was dealt a 17 on the final hand and could not win the tournament because he did not have enough bet to cover his opponents. Paul doubled down on that hard 17 and caught a beautiful trey that won the tournament for him. Paul gave me a piece of that win for the coaching session. Take slim.

I was an engineer with a decent job and making a living but work was a grind.  I was playing poker as often as I could at the time. In those days, the games were few and far between and it took serious effort to stay in action. Playing poker just seemed to give me opportunities to add adventure and risk to my otherwise boring life. As I kept making those right turns, my ability to perform my day job became more and more perilous. At some point, I made one too many right turns and jumped in a car with my friend Ron Darnell and we went to Las Vegas for the World Series of Poker. That decision meant that I would have no job when we returned from Las Vegas. I am sure I could have gone back to work and groveled for my job. I just no longer wanted to turn left. I started playing poker full time.

The movie Rounders had not come out yet, but it was in development and Matt Damon and some of the cast were in Vegas to play in the WSOP and promote the upcoming movie. Only 350 people played in the main event that year. Things were much different downtown at Binnions in those days. I played limit hold’em at the $10-20, $15-30 and $20-40 levels and those games were huge. There was always a game and I could play to my heart’s content. I loved the week I spent in Las Vegas and I knew somehow I would be back. When I watched the movie Rounders, I just identified a wee bit too much with Mike McDermott. Of course my friends thought I was living the life of Joey Knish. I decided I needed to live a little more and be like Mike and yet it was so easy to see what happens when you become Worm. I was going to take some more right turns in life or was I already predisposed to making some rights? Too many rights?

In June of 2000, I finally veered left at one of the forks in the road. I got a regular job as an engineer and took a break from playing poker. The girl I was dating had pretty much told me that if I was sticking around I was not going to be “GAMBLING” all the time. Rather than get into a no win argument, I decided to just give in and prove myself as a stable sane individual capable of behaving within the acceptable societal range of norms.

I have been working at the same job for 14 years and married to my wife for 13 years. My best friend Bob Stephens says, “I have never seen anybody make such a dramatic change all at once”. That means something coming from Bob who was just too damn wild when he was young. Every day I go to work and manage projects for a living, but rest assured I still make way too many right turns in my project management. I embrace far too much risk. All the risk allows for sensational delivery and huge celebrations but it also leads to much undo stress and complication.

“Just once make the safe play and take the easy way out.”

“I can’t, I am not wired that way.”

Oregon Jam 1983

July 7, 2014

The date was July 16, 1983 and I remember it well. Almost 31 years have passed, but I still remember all the events surrounding that weekend. I had just graduated from high school and was working as a dishwasher at the Crescent City Denny’s. I was 17 years old and finding my own freedoms for the first time in my life. I heard that a group of my friends Eric and Todd Taylor with Francisco Lopez and Andrew Barneburg were headed to the Oregon Jam. I wanted to go to the concert but I was working. But little things like that rarely deter me.

Eric had gotten the use of his parents van and the four of them loaded up on Friday and headed for Eugene. I remember they had an Oregon Jam or Bust sign on the side of the van. The exceptional part was they had drawn tits instead of writing the word bust.

I was working graveyard and had decided I could leave as soon as I got off work at 6AM and drive straight to the concert. Of course on Friday morning my car was acting up and making noise. I needed to get my car fixed so I did not sleep much Friday. When I headed to work Friday night I had left my car with Tom Westfall who was fixing it for me. He arrived at Denny’s with my car around midnight accompanied by a couple cop cars complete with the lights. A little excitement for our small town. The car was fixed and was full of gas and ready to go.

I jumped in my car and hauled ass for Grants Pass and the interstate. I drove up the interstate way too fast. I made the 240 mile drive in a little less than four hours. I was in time to get a ticket and buy a shirt on my way into the concert. I saw several people from Crescent City, but I never ran into my friends. The days before cell phones were really quite different.

While researching for this story, actually just looking for a picture or two from back in the day, I ran into an interesting blog by Greg Kihn Band. In the GKB blog they talk about playing the Oregon Jam in 1983. GKB mentions the line up as Loverboy, Triumph, Joan Jett, and Night Ranger. Those four bands played and the opener was Quiet Riot and not Greg Kihn. GKB mentions it was outside and it rained that day. That also is false, there was no rain. The part about Joan Jett kicking eveyone’s ass is the only part they got right. Anybody else that was there remember Greg Kihn playing?

I stayed at the concert until 6 PM and ran to my car to get back to Crescent City because I had to work at 10PM. I drove home even faster than I had driven up there. I had a stretch of over 30 minutes where I was going 100 mph or more. This trip was different because I was dead tired and fighting sleep the entire way. Mountain Dew and sunflower seeds were enough for me to will myself home on a couple hours sleep in the last three days.

I pulled into work about ten minutes late because I had to make several survival stops. I would get out and jump around, splash myself with cold water and grab another soda. I ran into work and clocked in and started the nights work. A couple hours into the shift any adrenaline I had working was gone. I was as tired as I have ever been.  I was working my third straight shift on no sleep and fourth on three hours sleep. About three in the morning a waitress came back to the dishwashing area to find me sleeping standing up. I actually closed my eyes and took short naps while standing.

I have attended many concerts in my life, but this one stands out for all the circumstances surrounding it. I made huge sacrifices and took big risks just to be there.

Time Passes

July 5, 2014

Last summer I returned home for my 30-year reunion. A high school reunion is really a chance to catch up with childhood friends. Some of these people I have not seen since high school, others I chat with on Facebook almost every day. I think of all of them as my friends. But I wonder how many of those classmates I can call friends. We just seem to drift apart.
I had six groomsmen in my wedding and only one of them was in my high school class. I have to admit that a second classmate attended the wedding. But that is a pretty high standard for friendship. Perhaps I should aim a little lower. Both the guys from my wedding missed our reunion. We do not stay in touch like we used to.
I thought about how many of my classmates are in my cell phone. The three people from my high school class who are in the phone are friends. Three friends are better than two. Two of the three made it to the reunion. I do not seem to stay in touch like I used to.
I have moved away and my life just does not take me back home very often. I can go years without getting home and some years I will make a couple trips. Every time I drive into town, things look the same. A new Home Depot is where the K-Mart used to be. They recently burned down the old Carls Jr. building. Strange how a national burger joint located right on Highway 101 can’t make it in our small town. Starbucks has a store now. Like a new sprout of grass on a barren lot.
There is one public high school for everyone that lives in Del Norte County and it is appropriately named Del Norte High School. The mascot is the warrior and has been for as long as I have been alive. The warrior was symbolized by an Indian head and our mascots dressed up as Indians. I suppose the politically correct term is Native American. Recently the HEAD was banned as being inappropriate. That seems to be the big change at my high school. The badges we wore at our class reunion featured the Head prominently. I am sure it was meant as a political statement or act of defiance. Nobody seemed to notice or care. We come from a different time. There was a time when giving somebody HEAD would have gotten you noticed.
I took a quick drive by the high school and things look pretty much the way I left them 30 years ago. My father graduated from the same high school 25 years before I did, back when it was the new high school. After 55 years most of the locals have gotten away from calling the two facilities the “Old High School” and the “New High School”. Our 55 year old new high school looks the same as when I haunted those hallways. The eight foot ceilings of the enclosed hall ways no longer have the asbestos tiles that we loved to punch out as kids. I guess that is a good thing. The floor tiles are probably original. The lockers and the locker numbering system is exactly the same. Alas, they changed the combination on my locker. Old locker number 1100 no longer opens to 36-24-36. The awesome mural that Rick Evans painted in the entry has been painted over. I am sure that people were offended by some of the content. Political correctness flies in the face of art. When did the locals start caring about these things?
I was able to spend some time with old friends and drive around and look at my old stomping grounds. I wanted to go to the Frontier Chuckwagon for breakfast and stop by McKevy’s for a milkshake. Time permitting I wanted to get the lunch special at the Stockade. I was a decade too late. Alas, Chart Room and Harvest Café will have to do for this trip. Time passes and everybody and everything remains the same, just a little worse for the wear.  The Tsunami of 1964 wiped out downtown Crescent City and lead to rebuilding, but 50 years has passed and it may be time for a new round of building and growth. Well I would settle for a fresh coat of paint.
I will be back. I always go back. I still call it home.

Novel sample

July 5, 2014

Why a person turns inside is really a question that I can’t answer.  We all react differently. Something that happened in our younger years has made us turn inward and have a very negative opinion of ourselves.  This is usually caused by the rejection of one or both parents. As the person becomes less and less social and drifts away from their peer group the only reality they know is the one they have created in their mind. They want to find acceptance and approval, yet the feelings of low self esteem prevent them from putting themselves out there in a normal social environment. The fear of rejection is just too overwhelming to be faced. Reality slowly fades away and all that matters is self-perception.

Desperately seeking approval and terrified to face her peers, Tori created an alternate life for herself.  As an 18-year old girl who had grown up and rounded out very well with full perky 34 C’s she noticed that guys stared at her chest. She began to dress in more revealing clothes to elicit more stares.  The smiles and gawking serving as her stamp of approval. Sure they are lecherous old perverted men, but they noticed her and they like looking at her chest. She is worth something to somebody, even if it is just her chest and the people that are admiring it are not the greatest people in the world. It still feels good. She really likes how it feels to be wanted.

She knows she should be ashamed, but it makes her feel so good. Who really gets to decide what is morally right for her anyway. Who really cares? She has her body and she is going to show it off. She likes the hoots and hollers. The need for acceptance and praise began to outweigh any reservations she might have had.

Tori finally crossed that line one Friday night at a concert in the Bay Area. She had travelled down to the concert by herself. She did her best to mix into the crowd and the closer she got to the stage the less people cared about their surroundings. In the back everyone is in little cliques and there is no room for an outsider. Down front everyone is trying to have a good time and nobody cares that they are sardines. By the time the opening act had finished a 45 minute set the party was going full swing.  A bleach blonde with obviously store bought breasts had climbed up on her boyfriends shoulders and flashed the crowd to a giant roar of approval. So those snobby bastards like tits. My tits are just as nice and mine are real. Two others made their way onto shoulders and gave a brief flash. While the quality of the tits was going down, the roars of approval were becoming deafening. Wishing she had a boyfriend to lift her up so she could get her own applause, Tori began to longingly wish she could show off her body and win all that praise and approval. She grabbed the arm of a big guy next to her, “Let me get on your shoulders”.  He quickly placed his head between her legs and she was straddling his neck as she was hoisted aloft. She could see across the entire arena. She reached under her shirt and grabbed the cups of her bra and pulled mightily upward.  The crowd roared as Tori covered her face with her shirt. Her new friend reached up and fondled her. That was not part of the deal, but in an awkward way it felt good to have somebody pay attention to her. Once back down on the ground, she removed her bra and crammed it into her purse. Four more times before the headliner started playing, Tori was lifted in the air and gave the audience a show. Each time the crowd roared their approval. More of the lecherous men in her area kept grabbing her breasts and they were grabbing them way too hard. They were ruining a fun thing. The guy that was lifting her was getting too friendly so Tori moved along and found another location to listen to the band.

The Fisherman and His Son

June 19, 2013

Talked to Dad on Sunday and though about this old post


The stories are many and I write about myself and the book will center on my life and what I have experienced along the journey. I have lived a very colorful and full life. I tell stories about the things I have been through to explain a belief or convey an idea. A very good friend of mine that grew up on a very parallel path if not just slightly tougher path has shared an idea with me and I will do my best to tell our story.

The discussion of will power comes up from time to time and people believe the reason I succeed is less talent and ability and more just a will to survive. That will is something that comes from deep within your core and is called upon in times of grave need. You make a decision to persevere and not to give up. The…

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