7-3-01 Tu 10:45 PM

I’ve got some chicken grilling over the volcano. Haven’t caught any trout yet. I left Homer. Fled him, practically. He doesn’t seem unhappy, but how could he not be? But doesn’t that make me the worst kind of arrogant prick? As if I were superior, my life better. I left rather than spend the night. His half sister had just gotten married, and so his sister and brother-in-law and their two kids had been staying with him. He had pinkeye and a sore throat. He had a milk crate for a coffee table, with piece of cardboard over the top, stained by spray paint from the model cars and airplanes he glues together. The ozone was thick. He had Guitar Magazine posters of Ace Frehley, Randy Rhodes, Angus, and more taped to a wall, along with some Nagel prints. Also his own pencil drawings from Playboy. An old TV was hooked up to nothing. Dishes were piled in the sink. A large box full of  empty beer bottles sat in a short hall area where you walk in. His dead mother smiles from photos around the room. He loves the son of his best friend as his own. Johnny calls him Skippy. He cut up some tri-tip left over from the wedding and served it with bread on a plate from the sink. He has some cool guitars. Shoes frayed. He makes sword and top hats form scrap at the plastic box making facility where he works. Around ten, he decided to take the boy back to his father. I said I would go. I said it was good to see him. I said I wished he could come but I understood about him needing to fix his car. I told him I would take care of everything if he wanted to come to Lassen. I couldn’t get a good read. I didn’t know if he wanted to come or not. The boy invited me back to his house with them. I had already decided to check out Chico where is located the Number One Party School in the Nation, according to Playboy Magazine ten years ago. I headed east on 32. Twenty miles later, I turned in to downtown Chico. It looked dead. I saw a couple of miniskirts walk into an empty place. I kept driving. I had seen and ad for a place called Centerfolds on 99, five miles north of Chico. I drove around looking for 99. I found Historic Route 99. I followed I for about ten miles before guess it had to be the wrong 99. More later.