Billy Joe Shaver, country songwriter, found not guilty. If you have not been following this story, go back and read the whole thing (its like 3-4 stories)--the details are--well, one doesn't wanna say "amazing" or "great"--though the dude he shot in the face lived, so it's not quite tragic-tragic (he says he's lost his sense of taste, the bullet is lodged in his throat). It's quite the story, I'll put it that way. Apparently, he shot the guy for interrupting him in the bar. He took him outside, pulled out his gun and said "Where do you want it?" and just shot him in the face. Shavers wife then came out and complained that this is why they can never go anywhere--"Why does this happen every time we go out?" I imagine her saying it like a Texan Edith Bunker.
Got the debris cleared from a third of the garden, got my compost started, mixed in with what some dude on Craigslist told me is well composted compost but am pretty sure is just dirt. I found full eggshells and soft onions mixed in. And strangely, a lot of long black human hair on the top of the pile--and my first thought was "Oh, shit. This is why he made an add for free compost. He's a murderer, and wants to be caught." I did not catch him, I just took some dirt in good faith it was compost. Vera is bringing me a sealed 5 gallon bucket of composted manure this week to "heat up" my free murderer dirt. BALLER STATUS: ACHIEVED. I am getting aged cow shit delivered to my house--for free!
The girls downstairs said they too would like to garden, suggesting we make a plan and divide up the garden, though one of them told me they might just let what they planted come back this year--and maybe put in some tomatoes and some yard furniture. Their 09 harvest: 4 stalks of corn they planted next to the sidewalk. I felt funny when she started talking about dividing up the back yard; the "never enough" part of me was suddenly scared they would ask for too much space, I felt like I needed the whole yard. I wanted to yell BUT I HAVE MELONS TO GROW AND I STARTED EIGHT TOMATOES ALREADY! I didn't want to dedicate any part of the yard for them to wait for their dead corns to revive itself zombie crop style if they don't actually know what they are doing. Total asshole panic on my behalf. I felt like I was six, and I felt gross about it. They live in a basement, they deserve to garden as experimentally as they desire, to tend dead or living corn as is their wont. Maybe in the process of yarding out with them, we will become bros and I can turn them on to some better techno than what they are currently listening to.