day after...

Last night I was burning so much adrenaline that I could not sleep.

When I did sleep I had psychotic nightmares of failure and disappointment to friends and family.

I was groggy when I woke up, the other side of the time change, but headed out to work. North on 17 to 880.

Trying to avoid hitting the car in front of me, who reacted to six cars on the inside median - three were CHP, I had to brake and react to what was in front of me, not so much paying attention behind me. I was kind of pissed at the person in front of me, but whatever, no one got hurt, so we mutter, but we move on.

All of a sudden some dude in a white f-150 truck with that fireballhead sticker on the back window drove by with the middle finger out the window. Of course I do the same as he passes... Next thing, he slows down and waves me to come next to him. Then he says, "let's pull over..." At this point, I'm asking him "why?" - here we are in semi-dialogue while trucking down the freeway. I keep asking him why he's so pissed - my hands palms up, like what? He says, "I'm hell's angels, watch your back, I'm hell's angels."

I ask him if this was about that earlier situation with the awkward reaction, but somehow the dialogue ends here... and we move on, he follows me for a while, I actually slow down too.

File under what the fuck, but it jacked my day. On top of the weird sleep - the too tired sleep. Is it real, is it dream?

Where do people get off on that? Better still, where do they get on in the first place?

I'm really getting weary of the whole biker scene that people are all enamored to. Time would reveal that jesse james is kind of a douche-bag anyway, so why should I care?

I thought the guy was flipping me off at first because I had the psych fish in my passenger seat. I expect that kind of intolerance from the surf scene. The price to pay for squeezing out killer waves among the crowd - and lucky to avoid confrontation in the water...

No, instead I get some biker dude. When he said he was "ha," or "81" maybe I should've told him I was mongols.

I hate shit like this, I feel violated and crappy - can't wash it off, just like their tatoos; it's this two wrongs don't make a right bullshit that I can't quite always manage.

Let's racketeer meth into your community, with impunity. You're an "outlaw hero," with immunity.

But, 1% my ass. You've got cops and lawyers, aryan nation, white racism... jesse james and
james lambert all on your side and then some. Including corporate 'merica!

Sometimes I think it would be cool to provoke some of those toolios to murder you, just so they'd go to jail... as if to martyr change.

Again, I'm getting weary of the whole biker scene that people are all enamored to: I don't care to live in a world like that.

Maybe he knew that one of my favorite all-time movie lines is from Bronx Tale:

Sonny, locking the biker gang in his bar after asking them politely to leave,

"Now yous can't leave."

...