Thursday, May 28, 2009


It's Kwan.
I'm fine.
Vick hasn't let the basement. In fact, he likes it down there. I've got my baby.
Here's the problem: The baby won't leave the house.
I want to leave Vick and his horrible tract home with all the shocking history behind. I've got Sy, my baby. 
But when I go to pick up Sy from his bassinet, he screams "Daddy!" He's only seven months old. He crawls to the basement door and sits on the hardwood floor and listens for Vick's voice denying people their health care, and then my baby laughs deep and long. My baby won't leave!
This house is like a HUGE step backward for me. I dyed my hair white. I've got a new baby. I'm ready to move on and start a new life.
But the baby won't leave! Sy stapled his diaper pants to the couch. I didn't know and I said, "Sy, we're leaving right now!" and I practically pulled the entire black leather couch through the front door.  Luckily Sy's diaper pants split in half immediately and he flew out of them into my arms.
I fell backwards, and I didn't let go of Sy, but before I could get out the door, Sy bit my lip as hard as he could until I dropped him on the BarcaLounger.
"Daddy!" my son shouted, and then he laughed that hard, deep laugh.
And his father won't come out of the basement...


Wednesday, May 20, 2009


My name is Big Bill. I found this blog on my computer and I guessed the password.

I am brilliant and I am the king! I am 14 and I weigh 100 pounds and I love meth I am on it now because I can write faster and run my powerful meth cookery with all my employees, like FLAME and the city council woman from Bakersfield who got fired for showing up to a meeting in a towel on meth, and Irv Rorg WHO STOLE OUR WHITE PICKUP!!!

I don't care because the pickup was already stolen from a parking lot outside of In-N-Out Burger where I worked when I was young and before the manager turned me on to the white goddess, the cloud monster, the creature I love called methamphetamine. I had sex with two girls from my old school last weekend who used to hate me but now they love me.

When my parents exploded at Hanukkah last year I was sad. But now I am King!

Good luck, Irv Rorg. You didn't belong to me anyway. You never used meth and you were a stunt man and you have your looks and muscles. Good luck, Irv Rorg. The king bids you well.

I have $30,000 in the bank and I have a red double breasted Armani jacket that I will wear one day when I move to Paris to become a famous meth user and work in politics and --

I am going now because there is traffic on I-5 and FLAME sees it with her binoculars and they are all coming to get us. They are all coming here to get us. I don't trust FLAME or Irv Rorg. I don't trust anyone. I can't find a vein. I don't trust you!!!!


Tuesday, May 19, 2009


From Irv:

The silence from Kwan worries me. I'd like to think Uncle Vick wouldn't harm her, but he's killed people. Not just people. My family!

And now, Kwan is silent. Kwan, please write an entry to let me know you're all right. I don't have a cell phone right now. It burned during a meth cook deadline. Besides, I want this blog to continue for the sake of those who might want to know the truth.

I'm sitting in the hot sun near a white pickup truck at the meth lab farmhouse. I just had a lunch of hot dogs that Big Bill the little teenage meth king cooked for all of us over the bunson burners in the kitchen.

Kwan, I've shaved off my pointy sideburns. Well, all right, they "singed" off in the same meth cook incident that burned up my phone. But I still have the thick black hair you liked and yes, Uncle Vick, my two fingers are still missing.

Silence. Why does silence happen so much? People stop calling or people disappear. You loved them or went through tough times with them, and then they are gone. And why does love change volume?

The keys are in the white pickup. I'm going to steal it and get out of here this afternoon. I'm going to drive it down the I-5 and scream - right, Kwan? I'm going to drive it 100 mph. like I used to do in the movies when I was a stunt man. Back when I had a future.

Back when the phone rang.


Wednesday, May 13, 2009

Can't Keep Me


It's your pal, Uncle Vick! 

Kwannie, do you really think you can keep me locked in this basement? Do you really expect me to eat that macaroni and cheese glop you scoop out of a jar or whatever it is you scoop it from? And then you criticize me for being heavy!

Who pays the bills? I do. Complete Wrap Healthcare HMO let's me authorize procedures, even down here in this basement on my macbook. I authorized a kidney stone extraction, and denied a finger re-attachment just today.

Hey, Irv, got any "ghost finger itches" when I mentioned finger re-attachment?  Ha Ha. 

Fine. I'm pretty comfortable down here....for now. I can even watch TV on I've been watching Jillian Michaels' mini workouts. Today I watched her do a plank pose with dumbells. She's smokin'!

I don't know what knock out drops you gave me, Kwannie, to get me down here. All I have to do is call the cops. I guess. There's a bathroom and the pool table to sleep on. I'm fine until tonight. 

Then, I'm comin' out and get my son!

Uncle Vick 

Monday, May 11, 2009

Twisted Circles

Ever notice how you think you've come a long long way only to find you haven't changed much at all?

Kwan Johnson here.  

Irv, I did what you taught me so long ago back on Highway 1. Remember? When you just can't stand it any more: Drive real fast and scream! Scream until you're blue in the face! 

I did that on the I-5 from the Bay Area to LA. I blasted some Alicia Keys and I screamed my lungs out in the car!

Irv, I'm right back where we started, back in the house you and I shared with Uncle Vick. We felt so trapped here, remember...during that hot August of 07? We were scared of what Uncle Vick might do. 

So much has happened since then..except...I'm in control now...not Vick Rorg. He's here with me and I've locked him the basement. I took back my baby, Sy. I've taken control of my life.

Just like you want to with yours!

I'm blow drying my hair after an intense Judo Jazz Aerobic workout with Alyssa Milano on DVD. I bought black vinyl pants. I've changed my whole look. I dyed my hair white. No more boat people haircut for me!

I've got to give Sy his sedative. He's being treated by a baby doctor at UCLA for psychosis. I've never seen a doctor look so frightened but I think I'm doing the right thing.

When Vick hammers on the basement door for me to let him go, the baby laughs and laughs.

I miss you, Irv. Please be careful. Get out of Bakersfield...and write me soon!


Wednesday, May 6, 2009


God-It's May.

Irv here. I'm surprised this blog hasn't been erased or destroyed. What has happened to my life? The economy went south and the only job I could find was at this meth lab...where I now live...out here in Bakersfield, in the farmlands, wait out the hell in nowhere!

Everyone else has a life and a trajectory. I don't even exercise anymore. I smell cigarette smoke from the driveway. I live with a woman named FLAME. She says she got that name when she was cookin' meth in an abandoned elementary school east of here.  EAST of Bakersfield. Is there any more godforsaken location than that?

We work for a teenager. A fourteen year-old boy named Big Bill. He's tiny. He's 14 and he runs this meth lab. He inherited it from his parents who exploded in a meth fire. He pays me well. He thinks he's got super powers. 

How "Thunderdome" is that?

I've save up five thousand bucks.

Where is Kwan? Where is Uncle Vick? and the baby who is seven months old now!

I'm ready to reclaim my life. How did I get so far off course? It's hot as hell tonight. I'm going to take a long walk in the tomato fields under the stars tonight. Alone. And make my plans to GET MY LIFE BACK.

Big Bill doesn't allow us outside after midnight, but I'm going to defy him!

I'm clean. I swear. I care too much about myself to ruin my life. 

But I'll admit I was doin' coke. Just to make the meth cookin' go faster.

President Obama, what can you do to rescue people like me?

And that psycho, Uncle Vick. He's loose somewhere in LA with the disturbing baby.