Sandman's Journal

Today my house mate, Lenny, and I dug up blackberry roots. Lenny's awesome. He tells good stories to make the time zoom by. He's a mountain man / punk rocker / shaman / rave kid dee jay / modern day beatnik with a broken nose and tasteful shoes. He was raised by a single, Native American mom somewhere near Seattle in the country. His father was killed by a drunk driver when Lenny was two. The ladies (and gay fellas) love Lenny (but he's not gay). Some people call him "L-Dawg," or the "Dawg." For nine months of the year, the Dawg works as a field biologist at the Fort Lewis Army Base. While working he covers the tattooed Arabic writing on his wrists with long-sleeved shirts. Lenny's got a big heart and is generous with his cash flow. Even though we're the same age, I look up to him.