6-16-91
Tonight I am going to a Secret Society meeting. I am trying to join, and xxx is sponsoring me. Here's wishing my self luck!

6-23-91
So I don't know where to start, or where to go, so I will just cover the high lights (or low lights) of this weekend...The Knocksville Devils Head Beater Run. (AKA "Hell Camp")Way the hell up north of Napa, in the middle of "public wilderness". The last few miles of the road to the campground was mostly ruts, interspersed with ditches and potholes. At times I was not sure we were going to make it, and if we did, would we be able to get back? We did, and the "camp ground" was a rocky dusty hell hole.

There was a problem with the "plentiful free beer" in that it did not exist, it was getting dark, and the nearest town was a couple of hours away. We had brought an emergency 12 pack, but 12 beers divided by 3 people over 12 hours equals not enough. We started drinking on a ridged rationing schedule, then after an hour said screw it and chugged the rest of the beers. Our savior was xxxx who showed up with a spare 12 pack, and the mood lightened. Even more so when, like a magician, he produced a bottle of rum from the center of his rolled up sleeping bag. So with that in mind (literally) It seemed like a good idea when xxxx threw xxxx's folding chair on the fire, and he tried to sit in it anyway. Our revelry was interrupted by the pop-pop-pop of a small caliber rifle from the