Brainlick

 No Vacancy.   August 29th 2020  "You smell like a brewery", they say...  once you get five or ten "You smell like a Brewery's", over about three months you deserve a cold one.   Go ahead, you sincerely deserve it.    Once the adding and subtracting of living around and dealing with addiction.   It bites like a sonofabitch.  Looking right down.  It's fabulously tragic, and clear as glass or new clear plastic.  Like a new Compact Disc or album on tape upon opening.  Not one scratch, not one fingerprint, nor rub mark.  Some times there were tapes whose cases or bodies were colored and clear.   I remember about 25 years ago or so there was a Ren and Stimpy audio cassette.  For those of you who don't know, Ren and Stimpy was am animated cartoon which was more "alternative", than the normal good versus bad schlock we were being fed on the major and minor networks...  when they still showed cartoons.  It wasn't Anime, it wasn't classic style.

 I know it isn't 1995 any more.  I know it isn't a couple of years ago or ten, anymore.   I know that three years one month and seven days ago my world was changed when we were evicted.  Not only did we have to deal with the eviction, but we also had to deal with a drastic increase of homelessness in the Lake, Sonoma and Mendocino Counties as well as elsewhere. The legalization of marijuana didn't really help my life.  It made it okay to smoke pot, but the sales i made and the money I made from said sales stopped cold dead. No more were the nights of making 3 to five hundred bucks from nine thirty PM to three thirty AM.  Gone were those days.  Gone were the days of heading to a dive bar with a bunch of joints in a cigarette pack and making an easy hundred and getting a good buzz on.   Ah the old days.  When a guy could sell a twenty bag for about twenty five and roll on down the line in a smooth way.  Back when you could get four (4)  thirty-two ounce beers for around five

 August, 11, 2020 Foul Transmissions. Quick like the night, blasting like dying neon signs with half shot out letters in the wrong side of town at the wrong time of night. "I'm not going to get chopped up like Dave did", Zero thought. Remembering his acquaintence that helped him and his mom and his girl out when they first went homeless.   Hearing about someone being killed is one thing, hearing it was someone you knew is another, entirely, and hearing that their body was dimembered is another thing as well. Cruel Town.  No longer the heartland of grass and song.  No longer the punk capitol of Mendocino County California.  First you overpopulate it, then you raise the rents, then throw in some huge fires that made many counties residents homeless and then they come to Ukiah, and then you legalize weed and the money structure gets fucked.  Know nothings who pulled in a couple hundred a night selling ten sacks at dive bars and five sacks are now moneyless.   Wandering the s