New Coast 1

Surf’s up!

Dig those mandible waves! They’re flying into Sacramento Beach at the speed of wompbelly! I am ready to go crashin ‘n’ slapshin’ as soon as Randy gets here. Then we’ll grab our boards, take off on our badass bikes, and hit the ocean deck! Until then, I thought I’d give this new websyde of Denny’s a whirly twirl. Suppose to be talking to cats all across the fractured states of America. Wella, we’ll see. Supposed to be super secure, no prying eyes and all that. Wella, we’ll see.

Maybe I should state my name, rank and cereal brand. Wella, maybe not. I’ll just say I’m Gene. My Dad calls me Eugene (damn that birth certificate!), and my friends call me Gene-bo. Ain’t that grand! Dad says I’m named after my Great-Grandfather, and I try to listen when he tells me about him, but one ear out the other, y’know? At least I ain’t no freebin’ Junior, I hate that crap-a-mundo.

I live here in Frandor, beautiful fandancy suburb of New L.A. Okay, it’s not that beautiful. It’s closer to a crappin’ lower-middle-class hellhole, but what the sugary drops, at least it’s home! We’re only a few blocks from the Pacific, and those groovy mandible waves. Dad and I are close enough to New Hollywood to get to work (without paying New Hollywood rents).

I got plenty of buds, and once in a while the chickies looka my way. All in all, not too shabby. The worst part? The smell of the ocean is most often drowned out by the huge De Sally plant ten miles up north. I think’s it’s one of the biggest in the world, if what I see on the netter is right. Denny works up there,. Maybe I shoudn’t say that. Oh, wella, it ain’t no freebin’ crime. Anyway, I might be lying about his name. Wella, he’s the smartest guy I know, and if he ain’t right about this websyde, we’re all screwed. Can’t see why they’d care. Wouldn’t know a state secret if it bit me on the beeber.

I work mostly at night, which leaves my days free to roam the beachfront. Thank Krishna my Mom was an Indian chickie, straight from Bollywood to Hollywood, cuz otherwise, if I was as light as Dad and his cracker ass family, I might be one crispy critter.

I was born May 7, 2027, out in North Los Angeles, which is now gone, daddy, gone. No visitin’ the old homestead for me. Love the ocean, but even I can’t hold my breath that long. I ain’t no degree boy. Got enough community college to work at Dad’s place. Learning the new editing equipment takes time, but I got a knack for it. I ain’t as good as Dad, but I ain’t trying to be. I work on some of the best series you may have heard of (assuming you get netter access to that kind of stuff). Some’s even replayed on the old tube. Ever hear of The Three Wiseguys? Yep, I help edit that. I leave out the all the jackass goofups the actors do – jeezie-luigi, all that money going to such utter and complete freebups. You have no idea what I protect you from. I also do The Really Golden Girls , starring Miley Cyrus, Dakota Fanning and Kellyn Manders. Can’t hardly believe how popular those old broads are. And before you get any big ideas. I don’t really get to meet the actors. My Dad had a party once, and Oscar winner Kirsten Dunst was there. Of course, that was before The Big One. Oh, and I forgot. My Mom was in a some movies, including a few leads. When I think of her, though, that’s not what I remember. It doesn’t computize to me that my Mom was a celebrity. She was my Mom.

Enough ‘o’ that. It’s surf’s up time! Randy’ll come soon, we can Schwinn power our way to the beachfront, catch them while the tide is good. Can’t beat the rushy you get from ridin’ atop a bigun. Maybe Miranda ‘n’ Suzi'll be there , wearin’ their seethrus over the sunscreen. Then we can grab a sushi dog, wash it down with De Sally Razzie, walk the beachfront. Then beat the afternoon bakers at a Pod Club, maybe get the shakin’ groove with one of the chickies. Randy’s sticky sweet on Miranda, ‘n’ I like Suzi okay, but I really like field days, if you get get my drifters. Suzi is much more crushy sweet on me than I am on her . I and commitments, we don’t get along too well. I think that’s the way a lot of people are out here. From what Denny says, there used to be a lot more committed people. Wella, I don’t mean crazies, I mean like marriages ‘n’ stuff. Didn’t stop my dad from not tying the knot with my mom. But it also didn’t stop her from loving her with all his heart and soul. I know he still thinks of her ALL the time. He blames himself for her not being on the right side of the divide, and it haunts him. I know. He acts like it doesn’t get to him, ‘n’ everybody thinks of him as so easygoing, but they don’t see him like I do. They don’t see him rolling and muttering in his sleep, they don’t see the way he stares blankly towards the southwest, where most of his old world lies buried.

Oh, Krishna! I got maudlin agin, didn’t I? Don’t know why that keeps a-happenin’. If you were here, you’d know I’m one of the most happy-go-lucky guys on the planet. Not used to writin’ this much stuff. Strange what comes out of you sometimes. So I guess maybe I will pack it ip for now, afore I get too weird.

Wella, I’m looking forward to readin’ stuff from other places. Don’t hear too much from outside of here. I ain’t been nowhere else but here. Not that I’d want to be anywhere else. I’ve always heard that Californy is th’ place ya oughter be. It certainly might not be the best place, if there’s another Big One. Oh wella, live on the edge, what the freeb! I can’t imagine livin’ without those mandible waves! Crashin ‘n’ a slapshin! I’m just curious, is all. Denny says there was a time when we knew more about other parts of the world. Now, people seem more self-absorbed, and the netter ain’t so good now as Denny says it was. Corpies put up barriers, might like keeping people apart. I don’t want to get into that, I trust Denny, but I don’t want to be too moronic. Anyways, leave me a dime talk if you feel like it. Love to hear from the Southland. The Big Easter, the Wild Prairie, even places I don’t know about. And, goshers, Uncle Doug, it would be swelly-good to hear from you. Denny says you may be connected.

I hear Randy Schwinning near! Gotta go! Surf’s up!