america, fuck yeah..

i apologize for not writing in a week or so. i have been busy.

i had to go to willie's picnic. i had backstage passes, of course. bob dylan gave them to me.

i have also been very sick. the sickest i've ever been. if i had a gun, i would have killed myself last night. i was running 104 temperature and i think i diarrhead about 30 times. i completely ruined two pairs of shorts, because i didn't make it to the bathroom in time. i'm still really fucked up, but at least my fever broke. this is the first i've been out of bed in about 48 hours.

i think i'm losing weight though.

keep on the sunny side.

i wonder if i spelled diarrhead right. it doesn't look right. it probably isn't even a word.

diarrhea uh uh, diarrhea uh uh.

when you're sliding into home and your pants are full of foam.

diarrhea uh uh.

what can i talk about now?

i guess i could tell you a little bit about willie's picnic. i went out there about five or so and picked up my ticket and backstage pass that roger ray got me. thanks rog. anyway, i walk to the backstage area and who is the first person i see. motherfucking pat green. he wasn't even playing. he was just back there hobknobbing around. the thought crossed my mind that i should kick his ass. it would probably do wonders for my career.

hey, aren't you the guy that kicked pat green's ass?

you know it.

anyhoo, after that i talked to cody canada for a while and he invited my on their bus and played me a rough mix of "the lighthouse keeper." i was very happy with their version. they gave me free beer and corn dogs as well.

i got friends in low places.

later on, i went to the porto potties they had set up back there and on the way back, i bumped into david allan coe. i thought about kicking his ass too. another career move.

aren't you the guy that kicked david allan coe's ass?

fuck yeah, motherfucker.

david allan was wearing orange chuck taylors. i thought that was cool.

he's an ugly motherfucker though.

i talked with billy joe shaver for a few minutes. and then headed to the other stage to see bob dylan. i went backstage and the security guards started clearing a path for bob to walk to the stage. it was as wide as I35.

that's a good line.

wide as I35.

well, after i caught a glimpse of him. i went and mosied my way to the front of the stage about five rows back. halfway through his set this woman started hitting me in the back. i turned around and was like, "what the fuck, lady?"

"my husband's having a heart attack!" she screamed.

i ran through the crowd knocking over several people and finally found some people working there and they carried the dude off on a stretcher. i hope he didn't die.

then i left.

all in a days work.

i've gotta go rhea rhea again.

sorry.

when you're sliding into first and your pants are about to burst.

diarrhea uh uh, diarrhea uh uh,

scott