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1/13/10 As Safe As Yesterday
Hey Well, here we are, exactly 3300 days (for real, I sat down and worked it out) since that very first Bad Idea From Hell. My dear Jesus. Three thousand, three hundred days. Who'd 'a thunk Bill would've stuck with anything for so long? (I DON'T KNOW. YOU'VE BEEN DRINKING LIKE A CRAZY ASS MOTHERFUCKER FOR 38 YEARS- NOT TO MENTION BEING ONE FOR 53) There is that. Don't feel up to any first of the year speeches, just like I didn't feel up to any end of the year speeches. Got an evil fucking headache, which is akin to saying I'm breathing anymore, not sleeping for SHIT, not even by my standards, figure if I'm always going to to feel hungover, may as well be. Don't feel (MK) ultra-shitty or anything like I have at times past, just feel really . . . drained is a good word for it. Life, you know? Another busy mail bag, got a nice note about last issue's BB Vs. Mrs. Delaney fracas from Africa Mike's better cooking (and looking) half Sig, who teaches fifth grade. Dear, I'm sure you and I would have gotten along famously had I been lucky enough in some time warp sort of way to have had you as a teacher. Just as I'm sure those little shits you're trying to educate now have no idea how lucky they are (unlike Mike, who does). Also got some fine words of support from Brother Dick- he's actually Tad's brother, I just think of him that way. No, my friend- you are MY hero. Got a letter from long time (so she says) reader UK Sylvie saying "I know why you like your noir so much, it is you" and quotes this passage (it's good writing, but from what book, I imagine I'd like to read it) that she thinks describes our hero, "guys who are a little paranoid and a little troubled, men of destiny types who drink too much and examine their own feelings too relentlessly, who are always looking out for a genuine soulmate but who are also aware they are way too self-obsessed to give enough of themselves to make any relationship truly work so there is always this sad contradiction tuggng at their souls". I'll buy most of that. Don't really think I'm paranoid, I don't care if they're out to get me or not I hate 'em all anyway, like I told this fuck tried preaching at me in Kroger the other day (don't ask) "You better thank God I'm not God or you'd be on your knees right now in broken glass with me pissing on your fucking head". (SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT TO ME) Lastly (mail bag wise) I've gotten NL fan mail from places like Texas and Japan, UK Sylvie says she's from Northampton, England and I have no reason to doubt her, but this is the first fan letter, as far as I know, to come from another planet. Or somewhere. It comes from someone calling themselves Living Corpse (yeesh) and reads in its entirity- ta dfz luvs how ya shoop da whoop in da ring. you spike balls dude. What the FUCK?! (SO . . . IS HE FER ME OR AGIN ME?) I think he's fer ya. (HOW'S HE KNOW THAT MY BALLS ARE SPIKEY?) Not sure that's what he's saying, (LONG AS HE BUYS A FUCKING TICKET I DON'T CARE WHAT HE SAYS) There ya go. Check back in anytime LC. If you'd like to make sense next time that would be nice (but not required, I'm sure its tough, being a living corpse and all) Moving on, what's Bill been up to? Went out to Harmon's Creek NYE- while I was living there I got to where I could drive it in my sleep, now that it's been over four years (FOUR YEARS) I'd forgotten just how far the fuck out it was- no wonder no one ever came to see me- (WELL, THAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN ONE REASON) -had a pre-party drink and visit with Jack and Mary and the Pullens, all good folk, Claire's growing up to be an absolute cutie. Ten more years and I'll be Jay's worst nightmare. Jack's a rum drinker but I passed on the GI lighter fluid he used to serve me, drank some Kraken- great name- dark rum with a splash of coke so I didn't look like a complete alcoholic. If there was ever a Jack that deserved to have Ramblin' put in front of his name it's Mr. Rader. He's into particle physics now- seriously- and I think the interminable story he started on had something to do with that but I wouldn't want to swear to it, three times along the way he injected "So, to make a long story short", finally had to tell him, "Jack it was too late the first time you said it". And I couldn't tell you what he was talking about to save my life. Lovely guy, though. Then out to Joe (who fixed my computer- till next time- danke, main herr- how funny, I swear, I just now on cue spilled some beer on- actually more like in- my keyboard) and Laura's for just about the best damn meal anyone's ever eaten ever. Seriously, everyone who was there- Me, Rosa, Ron, Charlie, J & L, Chris and Debbie, Mark and Julia- were just in fucking awe. I'm sure I'm going to miss some course- though I can remember everything I drank, go figure- we had smoked salmon rolled around borson and marscapone cheese, crab salad, sushi grade ahi (Bill had his raw, seared was also an option) Charlie made bouilliabaisse (I know it looks like too many letters but it's spelled right)- killer, good job Charlie- lobster macaroni and cheese, grilled shrimp, bacon wrapped grilled scallops, fried oysters- was there more? We had dessert too but I can't remember what it was. I just know it wasn't Barbara Eden for Bill cos I'd sure as hell remember that. Sarah B, the whole meal I kept thnking "Sarah would LOVE this." Maybe next year you can be there sweetheart (cos hopefully this will turn into a tradition). Maybe I can't remember some of the eats because Bill also had, in addition to his Kraken, 2 glasses of pinot, 2 of cabernet, 3 of proseca, one pomegranate martiini, 2 glasses of champagne and 15 black and tans. Happy New Year indeed. Watched District 9, good but heavy handed, I liked the South African setting, but I am SO damn sick of the evil humans fucking with the poor aliens. Who were dicks by the way, Mister liberal fucking ass Jackson. After everyone else either left or went to bed Joe and I stayed up till 4:30 watching this old Humble Pie DVD I got for .99- SSSLB- which made me for one very misty eyed nostalgic for the days when Joe and I wanted to be- and honestly thought we were going to be- rock stars. God knows I had the attitude down pat. We weren't, but tell you what, it sure as fuck wasn't for lack of sex and drugs and alcohol on our hero's part. (MORE LIKELY BECAUSE OF) Indeed. After that, pulled up a floor mattress next to Rosa's, who was already fast asleep, she complained the next morning about how hot it had gotten overnight, ha, it wasn't the thermostat kid, it was sleeping in such close proximity to Bill's own mighty Kraken. Seriously, it was. It throws off heat like a supernova. Pretty quiet last week, Rosa called last Thursday, had the cabin fever going, so she and I and Ron went to CL Cold Spot for some Yuengling and Guinness- a little miscommunication with our cute waitress- they're always cute at the CS- due to their being out of Bass Ale. As I always remark I find CL CS a nice relaxing place to drink. What's Bill been reading? Bunch of Alan Moore stuff, some Top 10 and League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen (TONS better than the movie), he gets hyped to death but he's one guy who I think can stand up to it cos he really is an exceptionally good writer. Also biographies of Neil Young, Steve McQueen and Wild Bill Hickock, three way talented in their fields but way cranky fucks to be sure, from what I read I think I could have gotten along with all three of them cos I'd have told them to kiss my fucking ass which is apparently what they like, if you were nice to them they figured you for a suck up. Hey, beng pissy is what I'm best at. Motherfuckers. Not to say that works for everyone. I mentioned in here a while back the very cool Bill Nelson website Dreamsville (crazy good old school graphics), which I still recommend but . . . he fucking hates me. I read these various writer and musician sites but have never joined any until this one cos it seemed very cool, as I may have mentIioned earlier BN seem like a very neat guy, if somewhat touchy. Ha. He's one of these fuck my past, my latest is my bestest, and in my first (and only) post on his forum I knd of- niceley, I swear- called him on it- and fuck, off we went. All I said was that he shouldn't be pissing all over his BBD or Red Noise work, cos first, there were a lot of folks who really liked these records and by pissing on them he was pissing on his fans, and second FUCK YOU, MOTHERFUCKER, don't you even presume to tell me what to like. Cunt. That didn't sit well with Mister Big Shot so we went around for a day and a half, me and him and all his butt buddies piling on, my last message was that I was catching a plane to Yorkshire to wipe my ass with his severed head, at that point the thread was pulled and I was both blocked and banned. Not just blocked. Not jsut banned. Blocked and banned. Crazy part is I still like the guy. But he's WAY too touchy. Lighten up motherfucker, I wasn't REALLY gong to kill you. Probably. Also (back to reading) a collection of Brain Lumley horror based SF stories, not at all bad but THING will wipe the floor with it if I can ever finish revising the last two stories and get them to Joe. And a couple Peter Capsticks, one a collection of articles he wrote for various outdoor magazines- I like the one where he's harpooning fresh water bull sharks in Nicaragua, I want to do that some day for real, harpoon the fuck out of those bastards I will, I fuckng HATE sharks especially the mean ass ones that eat people- and a biography of Wally Johnson, the last ivory hunter. I like elephants myself- they're intelligent, stand by one another, and are for the most part good natured, though they have a very low tolerance for being fucked with, which I can certainly appreciate (and yeah I did see where that lady and her year old daughter were just killed by an elephant, made me almost literally sick to see a photo of that happy little baby and then think of how senselessly she died- you don't go taking fucking nature walks around mama elephants with calves and the stupid fuckers who ran that place should have known that) so I would never be an elephant hunter myself, but I do concede you'd have to have balls the size of cabbage to hunt them for a living. There's probably nothing on earth that can kill you more thoroughly, more quckly, than a pissed off elephant. Like one you just shot. I don't give a monkey's ass What's Bill been listening to? This alphabet thing is wearing me out but I started it, so . . . Hollies (2) Buddy Holly (1) H.P. Lovecraft (2) Humble Pie (7) Ian Hunter (3) Husker Du (4). What's Bill drinking? Left over Labatt Blues 24 oz. cans, I always buy a couple whenever I'm in the store cos they're only a buck, had a bunch of them stacking up and we can't have that, so I'm taking the stack down a little tonight. Actually, more than a little. What's Bill been watching? Got a bad fucking hard on (normally they're good) for you.tube for pulling all the great shit I've tried to hook you folks up with this past year, but this stuff has been up for years, so . . . The Everly Brothers. Start with All I Have To Do Is Dream + Cathy's Clown. This shit . . . honestly. Words fail me. This is the sweetest, most moving- again, fuck. Just watch this. After that, go to Crying In The Rain, (the link will be rght there)then Let It Be Me (1964), then . . . Always hated how Joe and my voice never meshed well enough to cover the Everlys- no crack on either one of us, just how it was. Sarah and I one night out at Harmons Creek did an AMAZING version of Dream, I was Phil, she was Don, wish we'd taped it- did I have the Infernex then, I can't remember? Probably. Joe and I did do some good singing together on "You Kniow I Do", get on you.tube and blow that fucker up, although even then, he laid his vocal down first and then I went and sang on top of it. Still sounds good though. Okay, I can't believe this. I just went to get another big Labatt from the stack and they were all gone. I was running them freezer, fridge, down Bill's gullet, that was a HUGE stack, they can't all be gone. But I've backtracked fridge, freezer, stack and . . . nothing. Fuck me running, that's crazy. See, you people think I'm OCD but this is why I count my fucking drinks, so shit like this doesn't happen. Whatever, got some vodka in the freezer, cranberry in the fridge (saving the WT). Carry on. Doctor Death, meet . . . Death. In wrestling obits (I do way too many of these) "Dr. Death" Steve Williams, 49, died a few days ago from cancer. Sad. He was rough for real, played OL for Oklahoma U before getting into the biz, he was one half of the marvelously named "Miracle Violence Connection" with the late- he died in 2000 from drugs- Terry Gordy for All Japan in the 90's. I bet working them was a long fucking night. Also Tony Halme, who wrestled under his own name, as well as Ludvig Borgia for the WWF, age 47. was found dead at home a couple days ago in his native Finland where he was now a politician (?). (DFZ FOR FUCKING PRESIDENT) Be sure to keep "fucking" in your campaign literature. (Campaign is another word that looks wrong even when it's spelled right. Who came up with this fucking English language, anyway?) (TERRY FUNK) Figures. Haven't done Bill's dreams in here in a very long time, won't again tonight cos my mom was telling me about one of hers just this morning . . . "We were like these settlers living in this log cabin and the Indians were attacking. The cabin didn't have any windows or door, just these big open spaces, cos you and your Daddy never got around to putting any in (this is already killing me) so we can't keep the Indians out, you're on one side of the cabin shooting this tommy gun like thing (how crazy is that, how'd she KNOW?) and your Daddy is shooting out the other side, you keep laughing and Bit's going 'It not FUNNY, we're being attacked by INDIANS' and you just keep laughing, I can tell your Dad is getting mad, he goes 'I bet YOU"RE the reason they're attacking us,'" (and here my Mom gets mad at me in real life, "I think so too," she goes "I think that's why you were laughing" uhm, okay Ma, fuck, it was just a DREAM) "then this Indian jumps in this open space that's supposed to be a window and starts chasing me around inside the cabin, you and Bit both turn to shoot him at the same time but instead of shooting him you hit each other. Neither of you seem to be hurt, even though you're shot, and then you both start going, "You shot me", "Well you shot ME", "You shot me first", "No you shot ME first," meanwhile this Indian is still trying to get me, I'm yelling "Shoot the Indian, SHOOT THE INDIAN" but you and your Daddy aren't paying any attention to me, you just keep arguing, "How about I just shoot you again, then?" "How about I shoot YOU again" and the dream ends with this Indian still trying to scalp me and you and your Daddy standing there fighting over who shot who, and who's going to shoot who next." I don't know what it means but that's a damn funny dream. Even funnier is that my Mom didn't think it was funny at all, she found it upsetting. Fuck me. The Killer Pop-tart. I'm turning into the biggest liar in the world- (TURNING?!?) -but I'm going to have to save it for the next time. I know, I know, but I'm toast. Any closing words? (NOPE) You're not gonna shoop da whoop or anything? (WOULDN'T TELL YOU IF I WAS. SOME THINGS EVEN I KEEP TO MYSELF) Okay then. Like that animated philosoper from my youth, Snaglepuss, I'm gonna exit, stage left. I know when I go Bill
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