Henry Mills Diary

Here I am again. Sat down on a rock last night, had to be about midnight and was just listening to the sounds of the water coming in on the shore and was thinking for some reason about the time when me and Mary were courting each other, she dressing up in those long dresses to go out to the little dinner theater that they had in come through town now and then. I really loved the way that Mary tried to mix up the muck in town. She’d go to church in a saloon girl outfit if she felt like it, not that she did. She was just like that, wild, some might call her a little outrageous and I suppose she was, but I think that’s what got me wanting her more and more like I did until I just knew I had to have her as my wife. I loved Mary more than any other woman I’ve ever known. I miss her terribly.
So I guess I fell asleep on that rock. I’ve seen a lot of indian people around here. They some of them got their little villages set up right down there on the beach. They none of them seem to mind that much that I’m up here among these rocks. Got me a little village of my own here. The rocks protect me pretty well from the winds from both sides. It’s hard for someone to sneak up on me since I’ve got a good eleven, twelve feet of climbing to do up here and I keep little alarms down the way, a string of cans, but mostly my dog does the trick of keeping me safe. I barter for my food with the indians. They’ll give me enough berries and meat to keep me going and all I got to do is strip myself of the rest of my belongings, my watch, my knife, I didn’t need such a good one anyway.
Saddened today more than usual. Didn’t drink because I ran out of whisky. Sitting here in the middle of nowhere. Tell me there’s a little town called Carpinteria up here somewhere. Hoping thing swill change for the better here real soon. Thinking a lot about Mary. Its funny how love is. When you don’t got the one that you love anymore you wonder why love couldn’t have been strong enough to keep you together. What kind of evil forces are there out there that can tear two people together who have taken the time to look into each others souls for the benefit of each. What kind of God is it that would make these two people split apart from each other forever. What kind of evil in the world is there, floating around up there, making sure that two people with two good eyes, two good ears, two beating hearts, don’t survive. Love is a special thing. It is a rarity, really. There is no reason to make believe that love, if had, isn’t the greatest thing on earth. But truly it’s not the strongest.
Things that are more powerful than love: the sun, the wind, inner desires unspoken, music, caring too much about yourself, blindness, heartlessness, coldness. I guess there’s a million things that are beating down the door of love so that love finally just gives up and lets it all in. I think blindness is the worst. It’s when you lose sight of the beauty of love that you start being blinded and when you’re blinded you can’t see to feel somebody. It’s not that we lose the ability to feel, but that we lose sight of the person to which we would pin our feelings upon. We’re so used to being alone with our own crazy selves I guess. But, anyway, I can’t hold on forever to those pink and polka dot dreams of the past. When something or somebody is gone you can’t sit around hoping that they’ll come back or it will drive you crazy forever. If you got life in you I guess there is a chance that God might send somebody new to you to make up for what he’d taken away. It’s just when you’re in the state that I am in right now it don’t seem so much that it’s possible. I guess I ain’t letting Mary go jus yet. She’s still too big inside of me. I guess she always will be if I let her be, for right now I’m letting her be. It’s not as though I really have a choice.
I sit here on this rock and see the ocean, the mighty Pacific, and the landscape above me, the green hills, green mountains further behind me. Just come to these hills, finally made it and it’s like I’m entering a tropical island. I just keep to the water and everything is alright. There’s a road here too so sometimes I see a few people, but mostly it’s just me on this road to nowhere. Hear a lot about gold being found up north. Guess I’ll go as far as San Francisco and then figure out whether or not I want to try and pan some of the stuff myself. For now I don’t care much. I did these odd jobs in Los Angeles and they just about killed my back. But there ain’t a lot of cities up along these roads anymore.

Published in: on July 28, 2010 at 5:22 pm  Leave a Comment  

County Jail and Johnny


no Pizza


no pizza













Published in: on July 16, 2010 at 9:57 pm  Leave a Comment  


Money comes to those of you who wait. It might take you 89 years and you will have by then possibly died, but it comes. You just sometimes have to live to the age of Methuseluh. Perhaps we have children so that they can continue the pursuit of riches that we know we don’t have the time to acquire during our lifetimes. Maybe that’s it. Have a kid and they can do it. The dream can survive. Perhaps that is why we name our male children after their fathers. The dream continues. Perhaps once or twice we can forget about that and realize something greater, that the sum total of any new human being is greater than the sorry misdream of thinking somebody a simple function. We are not just a tool.j

Published in: on July 14, 2010 at 2:47 pm  Leave a Comment  

Albert after slipping on a tomato in produce and hitting his head.


I am here in the deep underground. What’s past is past. I know. I know. Catch a swirl. But what then? Swirl catchers ever circle.

(this poem is for sale. you can chop it up, splice it up, rough it up, whatever. It’s yours for the low low price of 14.95. That’s right, folks, I said it first, 14.99 and all your dreams come true. Did i say that? Well, let’s think about it for a moment. If you buy my magical poem at a superduper low price of 14.99 plus tax, you can be guaranteed to…

Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones.


You slipped on a tomato and hit your head. Can you sit up? Mr. Jones?

Published in: on July 12, 2010 at 11:14 pm  Leave a Comment