1/9/03

I Know You Fine, But How You Doin'?

Hit it or quit it

Hey

Well, it's 2003 and still no fucking flying cars, or jet belts, or 3 breasted Martian hookers, or any of the other cool shit they promised me as a kid, and which I was counting on to make my declining years a lot more fun than they're going to be, dammit.

Since a lot of you have leeringly asked, "How was my New Years Day", I'm gonna get it out of the way and say that Staci didn't come, she left me dangling, both puns wholly intentional.

She called about 11 am on the 1st, said she couldn't come in, didn't give a reason, I didn't ask, she sounded genuinely sorry, but then maybe I was just hearing what I wanted to, I'm pretty much famous for that when it comes to women ("No, I'm not fucking 900 guys behind your back." "Well, thank God.") She did say she hoped to see me soon, meaning next time I come up there. We'll see.

Thought about just brazening it out, "yeah, she came in, it was great, fucked our brains out," but the bottom line on that is that it would be lying, and believe it or not, I'm striving real hard to maintain the veracity of the newsletter, for without truth, we are nothing. Nothing.

Also, even though no one has called me on it, I'm calling myself, I'm gonna quit all this shit talking about watching TV. I've always tried to be a "to each his own" kind of guy, seriously, then here I am beating people up for watching television. Actually, I don't hate you guys for watching it, I hate the fucking brain dead, talent less, spine less, non creative, imitative, semi-human ass licking, shit eating, dog fucking, chancre sucking WHORES who put out the shit you guys- and sometimes me- watch. I'd kill them all if I could, I swear to fucking God. Fucking KILL them. Dammit, TV could be SO fucking cool if it weren't controlled by GODDAMN IDIOTS. From here on out, though, any program that you watch and enjoy, is a good program by me, okay?

What's Bill been up to? Well, had a very strange and disturbing experience Friday, 1/3, the girls and I were going over to DF Sean's house- and I couldn't find it. I'm not kidding, and it's NOT fucking funny. Went up to the door- and this old lady answers- long story short, it wasn't his house, I was one street off, but I was TOTALLY fucking convinced that was his house, scared the shit out of this old lady, scared the shit out of the girls. I've been to Sean's house 50 times and all of a sudden, I don't know it? Dag.

DF0 has put the fear of God into DFS, he got the NY e-mail and just boggled, (I'm not fishing, DF0's a fucking BEAST, and he knows it) Sean got inspired, bought a shit pot full of weights and is starting his own work out House Of Pain with some locals, I was over there this Monday (and little Tori comes running through the house at me, "IT'S MY BILL!", said it before, but dear God, if the big ones cared like the little ones, I'd be Johnny fucking Wadd with sugar on top) and jerked his ass up and slung it over my shoulder- he still goes a good 260, and needs to lose at least 30 of that- but he's got the wrestling fever again, and that's good. And he knows his damn role, and that's good too.

Fucking GREAT news on the wrestling front. Got an e-mail today- well, yesterday, Wednesday- from Bobby Blaze (trainer of champions) saying he's got his Ashland wrestling league up and running, it's doing great- 250 attendance last show, that's a LOT for one of these things- and he wants to know if I want to come down and work for him, couple shows a month. HELL YES, this is what I've been looking for, a decent league close enough to work regular- he also says he can get me booked with other leagues when I'm not working for him, including an Ohio league that has it's own cable TV show- now THAT'S what I'm damn talking about when it comes to television, the Death Falcon in living rooms all across America (or in a few, in one little part of Ohio, hey, it's a start). DFS get his ass in shape and I'd say Bob's league is gonna have new tag champs soon. THE CHINESE FUCKING DEATH FALCONS, THAT'S WHO! Man, I'm worked up, and the Death Falcon's just over the moon.

(I'M THE BEETHOVEN OF-) WE KNOW! We know. Jesus.

Oh yeah, and I got my new wrestling boots today, fucking hell, they're GREAT, red, black and white, just like the mask.

(I'M THE MOZART OF . . . ).

Go ahead.

(I DON'T HAVE A RHYME. I FIGURED YOU'D STOP ME BEFORE I GOT TO IT).

You're killing me.

Still wanting to put on my own show here this spring, was going to war with this guy from Mason-Dixon over "respect", and what he perceived as my apparent lack of it, it was getting sort of heated, I was going off about it to Joe yesterday, I was PISSED (and the Death Falcon was damn near out of control). I mentioned this to Bobby cos I know he works for MD some, he said he'd take care of it, got an e-mail this evening- or yesterday, fuck, you know what I mean- from MD guy, now he says I can rent his ring, set-up crew, and sound system, any time they're not using it, cheap, feel free to approach any of his guys to work it, and any other help he can give getting the show off the ground, he'll be happy to. Good lord, Bobby's either very well respected, or very bad.

What's Bill drinking? Green tea, I'm gonna be on TV, dammit, no beer gut for the Death Falcon.

The girls are both hard at work on their new CYAC production, The Abbreviated History Of The Universe, they both have a couple parts in it, their biggest roles so far, it'll be playing the end of this month, GO SEE IT. And remember Sarah's music friend who went to see The Two Towers with us? One of her school projects for next semester is she has to write an opera (?!?)- and she's written parts for me and Sarah, mine is this demonic character- go figure- who's been imprisoned by angels, and he keeps trying to get his daughter- Sarah- to let him out, but she won't, cos she's good, and I'm bad. This also has to be recorded, and while it's a very neat thought, I'm telling Sarah, "We can't sing opera!"- then Mary Beth (music girl) gave Sarah a rough cassette of the music- my big song is to the music to "L.A. Woman". GOT IT COVERED.

Wrestler, opera singer, DUDE!

Talked to Jason S for a couple hours on the 1st (nothing better to do, dammit, and I'm not cracking on my boy Jason), for you who know him but haven't talked to him in a while, he and family are doing fine (and little man Spurlock can do animal impressions with the best of 'em, lord, I love kids). And big boy, God love yer heart for hanging onto all the old newsletters, but you can dump them, they're all on the website (with killer graphics, last issue's pic of Jennifer Connelly will have you- well, I'm not gonna say, but it will) which seems to be stable at the moment.

Went over to Geri and Steve's 1/4, had some great food, couple of those Peroni beers, good to see them, and Martha, again. But I forgot to get any of the trifle, it looked great, you're just going to have to make it again and have me back over.

Laura got a new sushi maker for Christmas, gonna make some for the next Movie Club, that reminds me, saw something on Food Network the other night, said that unless you paid a ton for it, what we get as wasabi over here is just regular horseradish with green food coloring, actual Japanese wasabi is expensive as hell.

Drains is done- sort of. I've come to the end of it, and it's only 51,000 words, comes to about 180 pages cos a lot of it's dialog, but that's still too short. Not a real big deal, I'm not going to pad any existing scenes, going to add a couple, another encounter down in the drains before the shit hits the fan, plus a couple scenes later that I dropped, mostly cos they were giving me trouble, not because they weren't any good, all that should be good for another 10-12 thousand, and that should certainly be good enough. If not, they can kiss me, that's all there is.

Gonna take a break from it for a few weeks, write a few short stories with the hopes of making a little quick cash, already about halfway done with a short featuring the PI who's the hero- well, protagonist, anyway- of the mystery novel I plan to start next. Christian Andrew McDowell is his name, McDowell is my maternal grandmother's maiden name (she's featured in the essay Bill Vs. Grandma, Nuclear Winter, and Sepsis), the name sounds Scots, but she insisted it was Irish, I did some research on it a while back, found out they were Scots who went to Ireland for a generation or two before coming to America, except for my Germanic surname forbears, every other branch of my family leads back in some way to Ireland. Must account for the temper (and the whiskey drinking).

Christian Andrew- well, back in the day, before Loretta and I were even married, we'd already named our kids- you know how you do when you're young, and very, very much in love, and totally clueless- and if we'd had boys, the first was going to Raleigh IV, which would've been neat, and the second would have been Christian Andrew, I don't remember why, anymore. And at the risk of sounding a maudlin fuck, one of my very sincere prayers, when I do pray, is that somewhere there's some alternate world where I didn't make some of the horrifically bad decisions that, through alcohol and arrogance, I did make, particularly early on in our marriage, and we never lost any kids, and we never lost sight of ourselves, and of one another, and that on some other, better, plane, there's a Bill and Loretta who lived happily ever after, sincerely, this I do pray.

But that ain't here. Been hearing that she's been talking (not to me, obviously) about being under a time limit, that she needs to be in Baltimore by July, I thought he was pressing her, turns out that's when the big ass house he's building her is going to be finished. Again, she hasn't told me, but she's told others it cost "millions". I know I'm being snide, but I'm also being sincere, give the devil her fucking due. She's a fucking whore, but by God, she's getting a hell of a price for it.

She's also, after I get the girls this Sunday- a day early- out of town on "business" trips for the rest of the month. This travel shit is part of what she does, and will continue in any job she gets once she's in Baltimore- if they move there, who the fuck's gonna be with the girls while she's out of town? Paul doesn't like them, and they don't like him- and besides, traveling together on these "business"- they sure gave my ass the business on them, right enough- trips, is a big thing for those two. They gonna leave the girls alone? I wouldn't put it past either of them. This is the kind of shit keeps me awake at night.

Back to writing- been corresponding with Jerry at Aural Innovations, put the link in an old newsletter, like I said then, if you have ANY interest in space rock, check it out, it's an awesome e-zine, I really like it. And I'm going to start reviewing for him. He gets scads of review CDs, more than he can do, he's been farming them out to various folk, gonna start farming some out to me, which is very cool. Doesn't pay (I get to keep the CDs) but something I found out way early is writing is all about credits, and another byline can only help me with other sales. They're like your resume. Send out a story with a cover letter saying you have no previous sales. Send out the exact same story, to the exact same place, with a cover letter jammed with a list of previous sales. The odds of the credit packed story selling are hundreds of times better. Sucks, they should just go by the material they have in hand, but it simply doesn't work that way. That's why, if I sell Drains, I'M IN.

As a brief musical aside, that's why I'm bugging you, Joe, to come over and put the bass lead on "Beasts", Jerry says if I send him a copy he'll review it. Think I'm gonna do the Kira Majin stuff like CD singles, first two are Beasts/We Found It On Venus and Brain Dragons/(I'm) Incarnate, got a bunch of my old (OLD) paperbacks out over the holidays, the stuff that first made me want to write science fiction, when I needed some inspiration to get through Drains, it really worked, decided to use some of those old covers for the KM covers, gonna include the first two, other than squaring them up this is how they're gonna look, no text on the cover, just a single sheet insert with writing on the inside, spacey graphics on the CD itself.

Also (been a busy fucking beaver this short so far year, I gotta make some money at this writing thing or go back to work-nah, I'll fucking rob banks first, swear to God, I think the DF would make a good bank robber- GIVE ME THE FUCKING MONEY!) approached the guys at Wrestling Then And Now about doing a column, on the various old wrestling federations, one fed per column, directed them to the newsletter as an example of my writing style- and THEY BOUGHT IT (the idea, not the newsletter). So I'm gonna start writing for them, and this is a paid gig, by the word. And you know what I'm gonna send 'em first? The article on GCW they rejected last spring cos they said I called Dory Funk Jr. a pervert (WHICH I DIDN'T, WE ALREADY WENT OVER THIS). If they buy it this time, you'll know the Death Falcon's on a roll.

Need to find some place to sell the essays, part of the reason I haven't done anymore of the Bill and his Dad stuff is I don't know where to send it. I enjoy entertaining you guys, seriously, and I'm NOT turning into a mercenary fuck in regards to this writing thing, but I really do need to make some money off it, even if fortune smiles and Drains sells, we're still talking this time next year at the earliest that I'll see any money from it. Any suggestions (about where to send the funny stuff, smart alecks), let me know.

You know what I love about the Mexicans (besides their wrestling, of course, and those hot, hot, HOT women they have hosting shows on Galavision)? That upside down exclamation mark they put in front of some of their sentences. ¡Don't have a ding dang (didn't feel like saying fucking again, okay?) clue what it means, but I love how it looks.

Well, this isn't a bad newsletter, and I'm about ready to put it to bed, but I realize there's been no reference to hot time women for Joe to put into the website newsletter. I've got "Fathom" with Raquel Welch book marked to watch tomorrow at 2:10 pm- you'll be at work, you say? HA HA HA- so a brief turn on Raquel.

WHY RAQUEL WELCH IS LIKE FRANKENSTEIN'S MONSTER.

Because they're both so obvious, we don't really look at them. Just like I went on back around Halloween, about the Karloff Frankenstein's monster. We figure we've already seen it a million times, so we no longer SEE it, for the truly frightening thing that it is. The same with Raquel- we all know she's good looking, so we don't actually see her anymore. The next time she's on something you're watching, LOOK AT HER. Big eyes, high cheekbones, full lips, big tits, small waist, great round ass- that's the fucking shit, for real. So Joe, find a good picture of her when you do your usual excellent job of putting this on the website.

Guess I'm out of here.

(I'M THE BACH OF . . . )

Yes?

(GOOD NIGHT).

Good night.

And good night to you.

Bill