Wasting Time

You ever hear someone ask you, “Why do you listen to talk radio, that is so boring.” Well, no, no it’s not; you just haven’t discovered it.

When I was a kid, my dad was the typical older guy who listened to classic rock. At the point in my life I listened to rap, and only rap; everything else was dumb. As I got older my musical tastes have spread to places that I wasn’t looking at before. Now a day at the age of 33 I like…see, everyone classifies shit as whatever the fuck they want it to be. To put it very simple I opened myself up to rock: classic rock, metal, heavy metal, alternative, blah blah blah.

I can list the bands but then you’d be stuck with a pointless post full of band names.

I still listen to rap, it is still my favorite; but I have so much more now.

As my dad got older I came to find out that all he did was listen to some kind of talk radio, talking about something. And as I get older I’m starting to understand the mental stimulation that comes with that.

I mean I still listen to music, I love music; but here in a few days I’m going to spend 3 days in a car. On day one I’ll be driving from Lincoln, Nebraska to Laramie, Wyoming; a total of 492 miles (or 792 kilometers). On day two I’ll be driving from Laramie, Wyoming to Boise, Idaho; a total of 690 miles (or 1,111 kilometers). On day three I’ll be driving from Boise, Idaho to Portland, Oregon; a total of 430 miles (or 692 kilometers).

That comes to a grand total of 1,612 miles/2,595 kilometers.

That song? Oh I’ve heard that song before, hundreds of times. Podcasts and/or talk radio make it much easier to sit on the road for hours at a time. Time flies by a lot faster when you’re using the excuse of driving as an excuse to hear what they’re going to say next.

Regardless of what cell phone companies claim, when you leave a city in the Midwest you also loose any 3G connection, and based upon that I bought SiriusXM radio just for this trip, which I’ll have to cancel here in about 30 days or so.

If I have the internet, I don’t really care about Shade45, Octane, The Bridge, or Faction Talk; but it’s going to come in handy over those 3 days of car travel.

And on that note, I think talk radio also calms people down. I’m one of the only people I know who can be comfortable sitting on South 167 from Auburn, Washington to Puyallup, Washington and spending the next one and a half to two hours traveling 25 miles.

The Men’s Room, KISW, look it up.

Advertisements

I Have A Problem

Okay, so… did you know that much as cell phone companies claim to have 3G connection country wide, it’s not true! I would imagine that most people don’t drive 1,600 miles from the Pacific Northwest to the Midwest. It’s not something I do all the time, but I got to image that I did it more than most. I drove or rode back or forth from Tacoma, Washington to Lincoln, Nebraska more than a few times.

And here in a few months I will be, once again, driving from Lincoln, Nebraska to Portland, Oregon. Not as long of a drive, but still; only shaves off about 2 or 3 hours, depending on you drive and how often you stop.

So, I got fuck tons of music. Then…I got a new car. Call me weird if you want but considering my music collection and the fact that I have a 160GB iPod. The first thing I notice in a vehicle, other than the fact of rather my wheelchair can fit in the trunk or not, is the radio and rather I can plug my iPod into my cars radio via a USB port. And my car’s stereo has other function such as Bluetooth, Stitcher, Pandora, so on and so forth.

But when you’re in the middle of fucking Wyoming or Montana, good luck listening to anything that uses the internet. And yes, I know, this is not 1995 where the capability of that didn’t even exist.

I can plug my iPod into my car, and it shows me the artist, album, song title, and album artwork; based on the information I plug into iTunes. Which is fucking awesome, the only problem is that system has a limit of 10,000 songs! So that is 8,000 songs that don’t go onto my iPod.

So this is where my problem is…

I made playlists, a few of them, all with more then 200 songs. I did this so I could put a song that I like on a playlist that can go into my car, without exceeding the song limit. So if all 6 or 7 playlists consist of 2,000 songs; that gives me another 8,000. From there I just pick a few of my favorite full length albums, which is more than a few, and dump them on my iPod until I’m close to that limit.

Sounds awesome right?

So I made a playlist of rap or R&B, a few song in are the following songs; from the same album: Akon – Tired of Runnin’ and Akon – Smack That. So, iTunes has a sound check feature, which is supposed to level out all the songs to the same volume…but guess what? That shit does not work like they claim.

When you play the album all of the songs are fairly equal in volume and sound check doesn’t really seem to have an effect as long as you’re playing an album in its entirety. However, when you have a playlist consisting of 1,500 songs, the volume equalization , that is supposed to make your life easier just makes it harder.

If I go to the album and play ‘Tired of Runnin’ before or after ‘Smack That’ both songs are give or take the same volume, to the point that if you’re driving your car you don’t have to worry about reaching for the volume control.

But if I go into the playlist and play both of those songs (same album mind you) both songs are drastically different. It bothers the fuck out of me.Then you also got 700 other songs on that playlist that might be different volumes.

Honestly the only solution I have is to remove all of my songs from iTunes and turn off sound check, adding one album at a time spending the next year making sure album 1A is equal to 2A, 3A, 4A then matching A to B. Just hoping that album 3J is equal to 9Z.

So I guess that’s what I’m going to be doing.

I highly doubt that anyone will have an easier solution, to my method – that might not even work – but I’m taking a shot, if you’re reading this and you’re like, “Hey, do this,” let me know.

Pet Peeve

Lord Willin

People who do not use the proper title format fucking annoy the shit out of me.

I really do not understand why that doesn’t bother people. It’s right there man, come on dude fix that shit.

I think they might be too God damn lazy to fix it, I can’t say they are stupid. Even thought they might be, they went to school at some point.

If you live in a glass house you better not thrown stones, I get that, but I try. And yes I fuck up on my grammar from time to time when I’m typing a long post or some shit. I don’t have an editor, I bet the best authors make mistakes too.

But….this shit bothers the fuck out of me. Why? I don’t really know. It looks unattractive I guess. A title can be unattractive.

WHAT NOT TO DO:

Clipse 01 – Intro

Clipse 02 – youngboy

Clipse 03 – Virginia

Clipse 04 – Grindin

Clipse 05 – Got damn

Clipse 06 – Ma I dont love her

Clipse 07 – Famlay freestyle

Clipse 08 – When the last time

Clipse 09 – Ego

Clipse 10 – comedy Central

clipse 11 – Lets talk about

Clipse 12 – Gangsta lean

Clipse 13 – Im not you

Clipse 14 – Grindin (rap remix)

Clipse 15 – Grindin (dancehall remix)

WHAT TO DO:

Clipse – 01 – Intro

Clipse – 02 – Youngboy

Clipse – 03 – Virginia

Clipse – 04 – Grindin’

Clipse – 05 – Got Damn

Clipse – 06 – Ma I Don’t Love Her

Clipse – 07 – Famlay Freestyle

Clipse – 08 – When the Last Time

Clipse – 09 – Ego

Clipse – 10 – Comedy Central

Clipse – 11 – Let’s Talk About

Clipse – 12 – Gangsta Lean

Clipse – 13 – I’m Not You

Clipse – 14 – Grindin’ (Rap Remix)

Clipse – 15 – Grindin’ (Dancehall Remix)

Songs…..Man

High Society

Why didn’t the lifeguard save the drowning hippy?

Because he was too far out man.

I recently upgraded my computer to Windows 10, and at first it was really buggy and shit was not working. I eventually used a 1TB external HD to back up my important files before I “reset” the computer.

In the long run of trying to figure out everything I lost about 11,000 songs. My worst fear. Not really, but music was something I didn’t want to lose. Lucky for me a friend of mine in Washington has a copy of my music library, it’s going to be a long process but I don’t think that the music is lost forever.

Songs man…Songs and shit bro…Like yea man.

You ever hear a song and you were like, “Oh man, I remember this fucking song, this song is the shit,” and your friend is giving you a weird look thinking to themselves, “No, no man, this song is not the shit, its a pile of shit.”

I’m going through my music library figuring out what I have left…blah blah blah.

I just happen to play ‘Kottonmouth Kings – We the People’ and all these memories came rushing back to me. I remembered them like I was there.

I listened to this song all the time back in 2004ish.

I was living in Washington, in a suburb of Tacoma that many can refer to as the ghetto. I lived with my ex, my kid was about 1 year old; I would take him to daycare and pick him up after college, I was going to school for mechanical engineering, my friend Jody, who was a guy, from high school just happened to be going to the same college, we hung out all the time.

A song can be awesome to me and can be crap to you, and vise versa. The memories that are connected to a song are what make them important.

And you can’t see in my head, so I don’t expect you to understand. All you hear is the song.

The funny thing about that is, I had to force myself to listen to many songs and replace the memory with another memory because a lot of those song reminded me of my kids mom.

And just like my dad told me, “Time, time cures it”. Even those songs that do remind me of Heather do not make me sad anymore. I just think about her like I do any other person that I had contact with.

I Think I’m Dumb

Glove

It just fit, it fit like a glove. Off hand I do not recall anything that was as ironic as this. It made my day to be honest, something that small made my day.

As some of you might know I got a job after I got back from my sister’s wedding in Idaho and about 3 mounts before I went to visit my friends and family for Christmas of 2014.

Yes, I know, I’m an atheist and therefore Christmas is not Christmas blah blah blah. First of all that’s what I know that time of the year as, I don’t even relate it to religion. Second of all that holiday has became commercialized. I don’t want to piss anyone off so I’ll just shut up.

My job is as an entry-level engineer or a draftsman to be more technical.

I have an office that was moved from the office onto the floor. So instead of being 3 feet away from my bosses office, like it was when I started when I was hired, I’m a doorway away from the shop floor where all the parts are manufactured. And in all reality I can’t complain.

The summers in Nebraska are almost unbearable, and coming from someone who spent 15 years in the greater Seattle area who forgot what the summers in Nebraska were like…it is unbearable. I’ve heard my friends in Washington say, “Dude, it’s fucking Washington, it rains everyday, we got more water in the air than you do.” Scientifically, maybe, but based on the feeling Washington does not have any humidity, and if it does its very little.

My office has an air conditioner in it, which is beyond awesome. The actual office does not have that, but I do.

When its 101 degrees (Fahrenheit) outside and it feels like you’re in a steamy spa that you can not escape unless you go inside an air conditioner is really awesome.

And I have a iPod with about 17,000 songs on it. So computer speakers plus an auxiliary cord and a massive music library that you cant even hear the same song if you play it for two mouths or more… And I love music, so…

It makes my day go by faster.

And my office is in a loud shop, with a door, and no one close by. I can blast my music and be okay with it.

Today I was doing my job, making a blueprint based off of a model that was made by people above me. I can’t tell you about the parts that we make, not like the part that I was making a print of would have told you anything, but I can’t…and to be honest I don’t really want to describe it.

Very often I place a dimension from one line to the other, it’s something that I do everyday so I didn’t put much thoght into it until today.

I had to place a dimension from a centerline to a solid line. I found out why this happened and I fixed it.

I went to go place a dimension by clicking on line one and then line two. The computer made that ding sound, like something didn’t work. I’m reading a small message box along the lines of, “Cannot place a dimension on selected entity.”

What the fuck? I do this everyday, many times a day. Why did this not work all of a sudden?

While this is going on my iPod is plugged in the my speakers with a sub and I’m playing it pretty loud. I made a playlist of songs that is made up of 507 songs that are songs that I don’t need to worry about playing, beside my classic rock playlist that contains 200 songs, this playlist is made up of a mash up of shit, mostly rock, most of the songs do not contain a parental advisory. The one that do “have bad words” don’t say fuck this, fuck that, fuck your mom, fuck my dick, fuck the verse, fuck you… so on and so forth.

As soon as the message box pops up what song is playing? Nirvana’s I Think I’m Dumb.

I’m sitting there signing along to the song not even thinking about this ironic moment. I’m enjoying myself, doing what I need to do, not having an issue with doing it either, I love my job.

I read this message and say out load to no one besides my computer, “What the fuck man, don’t be doing this to me now.” Then I go back to singing along to the song that is playing.

The second time I said, “I think I’m dumb,” I stopped to laugh at the situation because I knew this was a simple issue to figure out, it never happened before. Regardless of me figuring out why it was giving that message and know what to do to fix it the point is I felt like I was dumb.

Lunch With a Black Man

MC-SaV-Seattle-Grunge-AL-HT

I don’t really understand why people outside of Nebraska always make the worst assumptions about the state of Nebraska. I kind of understand it, being away from this state for fifteen years and then coming back has made me understand how sucky this state is.

So while I understand it, the negative stereotypes about this state just make the people whom believe them to look really stupid. I’ve heard people say some weird shit like, “Do Native Americans attack your cars with bows and arrows as you’re driving down the street.” First of all, what the fuck? How dumb are you? And am I supposed to be offended by that question? It was a little insensitive to those of another race. I’ve heard some other outlandish shit to.

“Do you guys have pet cows that just hang out in your front yard?” I can kind of buy that if you live on a farm in the middle of nowhere, which is not that hard to find in all reality. But even then, those cows are livestock, not pets, and they don’t chill in the front yard helping us to not mow grass.

Being in Lincoln, the second largest city in Nebraska, that’s just fucking stupid to think that.

“Do you guys even drive cars?” No, no we don’t. We all ride around in horse-drawn carriages. What the fuck are these things called cars anyways?

Around the year of 2009, maybe even 2010, I worked at a machine shop in the city of Auburn, Washington. If you know anything about Western Washington all the cities are jam-packed next to one another, like that of a suitcase that will not close because you packed too much shit in it. For awhile there I worked in Seattle and had a daily commute from Puyallup and Seattle, those of you who live in Nebraska or any other Midwest state with towns that are separated by nothing it was like I drove for two maybe even four hours in approximately the same distance from Lincoln to Omaha and it felt like I was in one city the entire time.

I worked with this guy, his name was Ken, he was a black dude with short hair and a fairly long goatee. I sat next to him at lunch on a daily basis and from talking to him for so long he came to find out that I was born in Nebraska. He has never been to the Midwest other than when he was a small kid and went to Colorado Springs for vacation.

He is into football, he can sit there for hours and spit out stats and predictions all day, which to be honest is kind of annoying. But whatever floats his boat is okay with me, I just wish he had more to talk about sometimes.

One day he was talking about this player in the NFL who graduated from the University of Nebraska. In the bio it gave his home town, so I had Ken put up a map of that town on his phone, it was some small ass town up on the northern section of the panhandle. This whole incident brought up a series of weird questions.

“Are there any tress in Nebraska?” I smiled when he asked me this, I was even trying to be nice, “Yea man, we got trees, a lot of them.” But after living here for awhile and then going back to visit for Christmas I can understand why he would ask that. Yes, we have a shit ton of trees, even more so in the towns and cities; but damn man, I never thought I’d miss evergreen tress so much. Evergreen trees as far as the eye could see like a giants lawn, really huge blades of grass running up the side of mountains and littering both sides of the freeway. A large city connected to many other cities with a sprawling population that was constructed in the middle of a forest.

While that was a weird question I guess I can understand it from a different perspective.

“Do black people live in Nebraska?” This was by far my favorite, and to top it off it was a black man who asked it. For awhile I didn’t know what to say, I just sat there and stared at him with a dumbfounded look on my face. I didn’t want to be mean, but damn, that was a stupid question. I remembered that he loved football so as I look at him words come out of my mouth forming a thought, “When is the last time you watched the Huskers play football?” This just happened to be during football season as he said, “Last Saturday.” While waiting for him to form an idea that never came to fruition I ended by asking, “Were all the players white?”

I think that made him feel stupid, that was the end of that question, however he did have another one. At this point of questioning, even though I was still trying to be nice, I was ready to throw out some sarcastic responses.

“Do you guys listen to anything besides country music?” I sat there and stared at him once again digging in my head for a smart response. I started to think of stereotypes, I can understand why he asked me that based upon the negative stereotype that he believed. This made me think of stereotypes about him and where he lives. All of a sudden I got a smile on my face as I polity looked at him and said, “I don’t know man, do you guys listen to anything besides Nirvana?” That was the end of that, I made my point.

A Night With A Dead Man

9069020I don’t know man, when you think of a stoner you stereotypical think of food and TV, which in several cases can be right, it can also be very wrong. It all depends on the person who is smoking pot and what they like to do either on or off of the influence of marijuana.

I don’t know about you, but coming from Washington State, I knew some pretty responsible stoners. Some of whom even enjoyed cleaning their house while they were baked.

This is my story, a tiny little section of it, the night I was watching TV in another land before I realized I wasn’t even watching TV.

As a kid growing up in Nebraska during the 80’s and 90’s. Anti-drug commercials were shoved down my thought worse than a dictator in a foreign country telling you what you can or can not do.

Which, years later… is a bad idea, how are kids going to be able to believe that meth is bad when they smoke and figure out that marijuana is not as bad as you made it seem all these years?

I remember this cartoon with Bugs Bunny in it. And some black smokey looking figure dude, who must have been the villain. I watched this cartoon religiously as a kid, a small kid, must have been around the ages of five to eight, or somewhere in there.

This cartoon from what I remember was focused on a teenager, who must have been in high school, he was being forced by his friends to smoke pot. Being the late 80’s, the idea of forcing someone to take drugs was taken to the extreme. Because we all know, that’s what friends are for, to force us to do shit we don’t want to.

Hell that is why we have friends anyways, so we could be unhappy while being told what to do and when do to it.

Anyways, so I watched that cartoon and saw enough, “this is your brain on drugs,” to grow up thinking smoking pot was the worst thing anyone could do, worse than killing a child.

On aside, scrambled eggs are good dawg.

Years later I moved to Washington State, and as a sophomore in high school I witnessed my friend eating a laced cookie. A cookie that was cooked with marijuana for those of you that can not figure it out. As far as I know this was his first time with an eatable, or THC in general, which I didn’t know until he called me a week after.

From what I understand he didn’t believe his friends when they told him, “Hey man, only eat half of that and wait 30 minutes to figure out if you want the other half, that shit is laced man, I made it last night.” Him being a dumbass ate the whole thing.

Not knowing what it was supposed to feel like, or even his own tolerance, he had a massive case of green sickness. After he threw up in the middle of math class, he was picked up by an ambulance.

If you don’t know anything about pot, no he didn’t die, he didn’t overdose, he can’t even overdose if he wanted to, he just had too much of what his body wasn’t aware of.

This is where my story begins, because until this point in time I was not aware of how popular marijuana was among kids in high school. I didn’t start smoking until I graduated high school.

Two years after high school graduation, I had the opportunity to go 50 miles north of my town to a popular event, the most popular event of its kind in the whole country, Seattle Hempfest 2004. I did not really care, or see the need to go to Hempfest before this date in time. The only reason I went was because my favorite band, the Kottonmouth Kings, were taking the main stage that Sunday at 4:20.

Then, I not only learned a lot of information about the plant, but I came to see how popular it was among the adult audience as well. I was shocked to see not only the stereotypical high school stoners, but also the old geeky kids that grew up to make a lot of money, lawyers, retired police officers, and just about any other different type of stereotype in between.

From that point on I fell in love with the event and tried to go every year after that, but only made it to 2006, 2007, 2008, and 2010. I heard a speaker on stage say something that stuck with me, “I bought two grams a mouth ago, and I still have half of it left; just because you have it does not mean you need to smoke it, and many of you that believe that are giving stoners a bad name, and that my friends is why the media assumes we’re lazy people that watch TV all day.” After a short pause to gauge everyone’s reaction he continued with, “and believe me man, I love me some TV, but until we prove to them different, that is all they are going to think.”

The concert was before I knew where my happy medium was. I had many episodes of green sickness trying to find it. I assumed I was like everyone else, I figured my tolerance could not be any different than theirs. I was wrong, and it took me awhile to figure that out. I spent one day coming back home from the local college down the street, just to lay down on the floor in the fetal position, assuming that if I was on the floor and the TV was off that a cop would not come knocking on my door.

When I started smoking pot, in 2003, it was because of my own free will, my own doing. Sure, you can say a friend was involved, but it was my own doing of going up to one of my many friends saying, “Hey, man I’m bored as fuck, let’s go smoke some pot.” He was already a stoner, so it’s not like I was trying to force him to do it either.

Shorty after I stated smoking pot, my best friend, who lived on the other side of the block from me, had a friend, a friend who I ironically knew from high school, but someone I never talked to before. He was even friends with my other friends sister. My other friend never smoked pot, and now that he is married to a goody two-shoes, I don’t think he ever will, and I don’t really care if he does anyways. My point being, if Jason knew why his sister was hanging out with Joe he might know more about his sister.

Maybe he does now, especially sense he still lives in Washington State. But Jason has very little do to with this story, although his sister Danielle was fucking hot.

I found out why Joe was so popular, he was the kid that had weed. Hell my sister used to hang out there back in the day too. It was weird to me to meet someone I never talked to though someone else that I talked to almost every day.

Eric looked at me one day and said, “Hey man, I know this spot, it’s totally chill.” I looked at him while sitting in the drivers seat of my black 1992 Acura Integra, “You sure we cool to go?”

“Yea man, your with me and shit, he’ll be cool with it.”

Here we go, a twenty and a nineteen year old in a black car driving to a unknown location-unknown to me at least. I’m driving by my old high school on a dark Friday night as he says, “yea man, it that neighborhood at the end of this street.”

I knew what he was talking about, I drove by it everyday on the way home. And I knew Puyallup like the back of my hand, my dad took me on some pointless and repetitious drives when I was learning how to drive.

We pull up to this house and at that time in my life I could walk with the help of a friend shoulder. I still needed help, but not as much as I do eleven years later. We get downstairs and I looked into Joe’s eyes with a shocked look as Eric is saying, “Hey Joe, this is Daniel,” all Joe did was look up at me and say “Yep,” as he was loading another bong hit. After looking at him for awhile I was like, “Hey man, I know you, kind of,” the only thing Joe did was look at me with a lighter in one hand and a bong in the other, “Yep.”

I think Joe was kinda taken back that I was at his house, he might have been thinking to himself, “Oh, shit, look at that man, it’s the handicapped dude, in my house, what the fuck.” But after talking to Eric in a low volume, I can only assume what was being said, he opened up to me. Joe actually turned out to be one hell of a smart dude.

We sit down his his room, Eric and Joe being on the other side of the room as we pass the bong back and forth. Joe could tell that this was my first time smoking out of a bong when I attempted to smoke a bong as if I was trying to give some dude a blowjob.

After getting stoned and sitting there for what seemed to be a good thirty minutes I started zoning out by listening to Joe and Eric talk about whatever they were talking about. Eric was playing a unplugged bass guitar as Joe was playing a unplugged six string guitar.

I sat there watching this like I was a kid glued into a cartoon. I was so interested in this conversation, that I could not hear, it was like I was making some sort of a profound scientific discovery. I could not hear what they were saying because there was music playing in the background, quiet enough to hear one another from across the room if we were talking to one another, but loud enough that I was unable to distinguish what was being said by two people that were two feet away from one another.

I never heard this type of music before, but I should have taking into account of where I was geographically located on the planet Earth. For some reason I assumed this music came from India. In my state of mind that I was in it made sense to me, and the more you think about something the more it becomes true, even if what you’re thinking about is false.

I was so intent in their conversation that the music that was being played just seemed like the background music that was playing just because the two of them were talking. I don’t know what it is about me getting stoned, I’m better at it now because my body knows what it is looking for. Although I have not smoked pot in two years. I got to the point where I get so paranoid about someone I know telling my employer that I just don’t have fun anymore. I think about a random UA more that I enjoy my current surroundings. I know I could most likely get away with it, even if I tell myself beforehand, “Daniel, you’re fine, they are not going to give you a drug test just because you visited Washington State”.

Back in the day when I just got into smoking pot, if I was focused too intently on something, I went into this thing where I thought I was watching a TV show.

“What the weather in India going to be like tomorrow?”

They both look at me as if something unbelievable happened, they even looked at one another and had a short laugh before they addressed me.

Eric looked at me and said, “Fuck man, I don’t know.”

“Well isn’t that your job.”

“What?”

“Your job man.”

“What job?”

I stopped and realized I was talking to a TV, or at least what I thought was a TV, and this TV was talking back to me. I thought to myself, “What the fuck,” before I said what I said next.

“Dude, you guys are like two fucking news reporters from India and shit, but you’re fucking white.”

Eric looked at Joe, Joe had a flabergasted look on his face while Eric said, “Its cool man, he does this shit.”

Eric knew what I was thinking, kind of, and goes onto ask me questions because he was curious of how I got to this train of thought I was on.

I remember saying, “Man, I was expecting a weather forecast.”

“Why India though?”

“The music man”

“What about it”

“It sound all Indian type and shit”

Joe and Eric looked at one another, Eric was laughing as Joe had a look on his face like he could not believe I was this stupid.

Joe looked at me and said, “Do you know who Jimi Hendrix is?”

“Yeah, but I never heard this song”

Eric looked back at Joe and said, “Don’t worry about it man, I’ll introduce him to Jimi man.”

After paying attention, this music didn’t even remotely sound like it would stereotypically come from India. Why I thought it did was beyond me.

The last thing Eric said to me before I dropped him off at home that night was, “Jimi Hendrix is buried in Renton man.” Being in Washington State, and being a minimal fan of Classic Rock, I can’t believe I didn’t know that.