I asked for it. 'To be heading into the inexorable, where only reality reigns.'I was drunk with those words. Well, this is reality.

After Sunday I was too depressed to even bother writing. Spring Turkey Season 1 was a complete failure except in the sense that I realized I need to work on my mouth calls and my Primos Turkey Strap Vest sucks balls. I killed my self all Sunday morning and still ended up with nothing to show for it except a few bizarre encounters with people and animals. 

I got into the field at dawn and suited up in a ghillie suit and headed out with only a hen deke. I had read that the big ass tom deke I had would likely scare other toms away in late season so, being an adherent of book learnin', I headed out with only one deke. It didn't matter. Best camo system ever, good looking deke, patience, and every call I could muster and six hours later no turkeys. Not even a hen. Not even a peep from anything. Sure, a covey of quail walked out of the brush an arms length away from me but so what? I couldn't shoot 'em so who fucking cares? OK, I watched doves battle in the skies above my head but so what? I was there for a turkey and it didn't happen. I am depressed.

In other news, I worked for two days on a Jonas brothers video and didn't really mind as I was the B-cam guy and happy to have the work. The only real highlight to the whole 48 hours was the taco cart guy at the end. Who doesn't want freshly made carne asada and carnitas tacos at the end of a long day? Production even sported for a bottle of tequila and gave all what wanted a shot. It went well with the case of Pacificos we had chilling on the truck. Good times.

In even more other news, my aunt went batshit and kicked her 16 year old twins to the curb. Guess who's stuck with them now.

And in a final installment of otherness news, I'm going to fuck off now and purchase a ticket to NYC for to make it the one JC Penny commercial with Swedish DP. I'm going to go to Crif Dog immediately and scarf for awhile and then try to get into Bourdain's old joint. Yeah, it's all about eating when I go to New York. What a bum I am.

Peace out, bitches!