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10/11/02
When I've had enough, I'll buy a pick-up truck Hey Hope everyone's been well. Gonna go ahead and get the bummer news out of the way up front, then maybe . . . well, then maybe I don't know, to be honest. Then it's out of the way, I guess. Looks like Loretta has gotten a job in Virginia, which means she'll be moving there, which is the good news, (I offered to relocate her ass to Hell last fall, but she declined) cos the farther away from me, and the less contact we have, the better (I told her brother, whom I still like very much, last spring when he was out here that I didn't hate her, and it's bothered me ever since, because I was lying through my fucking teeth- I'm sure he knows that now, he probably knew it then, and yeah, I know hate and rage and all the other shit I feel only hurts me and holds me down, but I just don't seem to be able to figure out how to let it go, I swear I'm not wallowing in this shit cos I enjoy it, I just don't know how to LET IT FUCKING GO. I'm PISSED, dammit. I'm pissed. Still.). The bad news, obviously, is that the girls are talking about going with her, and probably will. In the immortal words of Bobbie Fleckman, "Money talks, bullshit walks", and it looks like my bullshit's walking. There's no doubt in my mind the girls will be back- Sarah has too many bad feelings of her own for her mother for the two of them to live together full time, I don't care how much money she throws at her, and Rachel is just plain not a city kid, but I worry about the time they will be there. I have tremendous concerns about the supervision and discipline they'll receive there, since Loretta's doing a piss poor job of it now on a part time basis, but- it is what it is. Standing in their way would be stupid for many reasons- and you never know, it's not like I haven't been absolutely dead damn 180 degrees totally fucking wrong about people I thought I knew like I know myself, before, the girls could go there and adapt and have wonderful lives, and if so, more power to them. But I'm going to MISS THEM LIKE FUCK. Don't know when any of this shit is coming to pass since I can't get a straight word out of Loretta (fucking imagine that), I'm getting all my information from Sarah. So, anyway, I been pissy and pretty non-productive in a writing sense- 6 hours so far this week, which would have been great in the bad old working days, but isn't going to cut it now if I want to make a go of it. By the way, Anne (from lunch last issue) gave me excellent advice if I do return to the work force- get the HELL out of social services. A- fucking- men. And this is from someone who was a social worker for close to 20 years, and an extremely good one. She's been out for about 5 years now, and says the positive difference it's made in her life has been profound. Not only does social work money suck (hey, I only got in cos I needed a job), but the work, whether you enjoy it or not- I liked working with kids, hated the aged and disabled stuff- drains your soul. So what HAS Bill been doing with his unemployment? Well, first, still fighting to get my unemployment benefits (and no, I DON'T think I'm entitled, but I will ABSOLUTELY take 'em if I can get 'em, makes a six month difference before I'm forced to go back to work), no determination has been made yet. An average unemployed day for Bill. I get up at noon (and I'm having to set the damn alarm to get up then). I drink a big glass of orange juice with vanilla protein powder- that powder's a scam, 21 grams per scoop, you get 30 in a can of tuna- Bill knows tuna- but I like orange juice, and with that high acid thing going again in my stomach, if I don't cut it with the powder, it drives a hole in my stomach lining like you wouldn't believe. Like a match to flash paper. Then, depending on the weather, I either go for a run up to the bridge (this damn dog about halfway there just had puppies, so she's gotta chase my ass, barking and nipping at my heels, every time I run by their house, each way, I'm trying to be understanding cos she's a new mom and she hasn't actually gotten me yet, but I tell her every time, as soon as you bite me I'm kicking your ass to the moon- which may be why she hasn't gotten me yet), or else I put in a hour on the aerobic step with the hand weights. Then I lift for an hour (different lifts for different days). Then I really quickly fix something to eat- normally some hard boiled eggs, and either a big bowl of oatmeal or cheese grits- no, not that instant crap with the "cheese" already in it, Christ, you make grits and then add shredded cheese- along with a big glass of water and a big glass of skim milk. Then I lay on the couch and eat and watch cartoons for the next 2 hours. Yeah, I said cartoons, dammit. I still hate DirecTV, but all of a sudden I'm getting Boomerang, which used to be extra.
Weird, weird stuff. Don't like the damn obnoxious kid, among other things he calls his parents by their first names, that goes right through me, I'm so old school it still drives me crazy to have kids call me by my first name, and to hear my kids call other adults by theirs, I know that's the way it is these days, but in MY day I ALWAYS called adults Mr. or Mrs. (as in, "Please Mrs. Schwartz, don't call the police, it was an accident"). Second hour is Thundarr the Barbarian (passable) and Pirates of Suck City, or something, stinks, but I lay there on the couch and watch it anyway cos it's relaxing. After that? Shit, I don't know, then I do other stuff, sometimes I go out, if I've got the girls that's about the time they get in, so- it varies. But it's all fucking good, I can live like this. Going to bed about 4 am most mornings, little rough getting back up in a couple hours to take the girlies to school, but knowing I'm coming home and going back to bed takes a lot of the sting off. You know, they talk you up, and then they talk you down Went to see Sarah in Romeo and Juliet last Friday- oh yeah, that reminds me, what do I do? Last Wednesday night when I left to take Sarah to the theater I hit the odometer, and I drove nowhere else except taking her there and picking her up- many, many times each day- until her last performance Saturday night, and when we got home that night the odometer read a mind boggling 417 miles, that's what I fucking do- Rachel and I had dinner before the show with Joe and Laura (thanks, guys), my parents and Mrs. Bell, my mom's friend who's in visiting from South Carolina, met us there, everyone enjoyed the show very much, it was quite well done, I've said it before, but these aren't like some high school type production, these are pretty damn impressive. I've got to admit I've always had a soft spot for Romeo and Juliet, in fact, damn me for a sissy boy (the DF does daily) but I've often thought that if I could only play one dramatic role in my entire life, I'd like for it to be Romeo- yeah, I know, there are other meaty Shakespearean roles I think I could do a damn good job at- dead fucking evil Iago, one of the truly most horrible characters in English letters, or stud King Henry- that would be Henry V, of course, not III or IV, for those of you who know your Shakespeare, and if you don't, why don't you?- but Romeo. Damn, I swear to God, he talks to me. I mean that whole totally fucking INTENSE true love, damn the world, I love you so much that I DON'T CARE, I SAID I DON'T CARE- Man. That talks to me. Hate how it ends, though. Along those lines, I've promised the Death Falcon, who's been lying pretty low of late, that as soon as I've finished Drains, we're going to start writing scripts (I've been told a million times, by editors, friends, relations, bums on the corner, that my writing is very cinematic) for a series of Death Falcon movies, just like the old Mexican El Santo and Blue Demon movies. Can you see it? Death Falcon Zero Vs. The Jungle Moon Men. Death Falcon Zero Vs. The War Gods Of Titan. Death Falcon Zero Vs. The Zombie Sluglords. And the one I've promised him we'll film first, Death Falcon Zero Vs. The Lesbian Vampire Dominatrixes of Sodom. (Whoa, that hurt. Do it again. Yeah, again.) With the girls contemplating leaving town, there's no point in them
starting back in karate, so that puts a whole new spin on things. Went
over and watched Chris and Debbie work out tonight, and liked what I saw
very much. Their workouts are extremely intense, I'm with that, and very
stiff, which has nothing to do with flexibility, it's a wrestling term
denoting a high degree of contact, which is how I like to wrestle,
obviously the realer it is, the realer it's going to look. Like their
style- a lot less kicks than Shaolin, which is great, because, even
though I will testify that I'm a FREAK OF MOTHERFUCKING NATURE till the
day they shovel me under, I'm also reluctantly coming to the conclusion
that my knees are fucking SHOT. Going to try one last time this Saturday to get into XMCM. After that . . . once again, I have to say I don't know. Watched an old 80's wrestling video today while on the step (it was raining). First match was from World Class, Kevin and Kerry von Erich Vs. the Dynamic Duo (Chris Adams and Gino Hernandez) with Bruiser Brody and Terry Gordy as special referees. Five of those six guys are dead now- 2 murders, 2 ODs, one suicide. God. Next match is similar time frame, '85 or so, Jos Leduc in Memphis handicapped against the Zambuie Express. Ray Candy was an unlucky guy in the 80's, he was in the Zambuie Express with Leroy Brown (he's dead), then in the Shock Troops with Ed Gantner (he's dead), then in the Commandos with Grizzly Boone (he's dead). You know what? Ray Candy's dead too (and so's Jos Leduc)! Love that old school shit, I swear, but those fuckers did not take care of themselves. Not a one of those dead fuckers saw 50, and only 2 saw 40.
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Two
o'clock- the old 60's Fantastic Four. The animation's sort of limited,
but it's the FANTASTIC FOUR for Christ's sake, and they adapted all
those classic early FF scripts from the comics for the series.
Fantastic, indeed, and the voice of Sue Richards (this wouldn't be one
of these with out me winding up about some hottie) was Jo Ann Pflug,
funny name, but if you ever saw the old Love American Style TV show
you'd know her, had the look I love, you've heard it all before, long
dark hair, high cheekbones, slender build, big tits- I remember I had my
dad buy me an old True
magazine- in the Dark Ages there used to be this neither fish nor fowl
genre of men's magazines like True and Argosy that tried to be like
Playboy crossed with Outdoor Life crossed with Sport's Illustrated
crossed with Motor Trend crossed with- you get my point. The pin-ups
weren't nude, but I picked up one in like 1970 there in Cohen's Drug
Store just to skim, and came across our Jo Ann in this leather fringed
vest with nothing under it, and these leather hot pants, and boots, and-
"Dad, will you buy me this?" "What for?" "This
article about fishing. Right here. Fishing." (I was crazed for
fishing as a kid). "Okay".
Two
thirty. The best cartoon ever. I will concede that there have been many,
MANY tremendously well done and entertaining cartoons over the years (I
fucking LOVE the Simpsons, among many, in fact, to qualify here, I mean
the best non-humorous cartoon), but if you don't think Jonny Quest is
the best cartoon ever, man, I'm sorry, but you're just fucking wrong.
Jesus, that classic damn beginning- you got that dynamic opening music,
I figured out how to play it on the guitar years ago, but it was during
the years of Joe's exile, so it just sort of withered away- and then-
snakes, crocodiles, black panthers, giant one eyed robot spiders,
mummies, this way evil looking saw-beaked pteranodon, orange and yellow
Komodo dragons, tanks firing, guys in air cars, guys shooting machine
guns, other guys in super science looking helmets and face masks
shooting automatic rifles at this way cool white haired guy (the Death
Falcon owes a LOT to Mr. Race Bannon, you better believe)- my God, how
could you watch that beginning and not watch the show, and all in
marvelously well done animation run at 24 frames a second- modern shit
runs at 16 max, some really useless 80's shit like THE FUCKING SMURFS
ran at 8.
Boomerang
runs almost no commercials except for itself, so after Jonny Quest they
slip in an episode of The Herculoids. If those Superman covers from a
few issues back are Exhibit A that comics people of the 60's were on
drugs, I give you the Herculoids as Exhibit B. It's about this family
living on this planet with these- Herculoids- a flying dragon thing that
shoots laser beams out of it's eyes and tail (?), these two blob things
that usually morph into shit like fly swatters and hammers, this rock
gorilla (I mean he's made out of rock) and this sorta rhino like
something with ten legs, with a flower petal arrangement around his neck
who shoots exploding rocks out of his head, through this flute looking
horn (I'm not making a word of this up). And they've got names like-
brace your asses- Zok and Igoo and Gloop and Gleep. You ever tried to
talk while you're on drugs? Well, I have, and it sounds a lot like that.
A typical episode involves some sort of bad trip aliens, like the
Crystallites, or the Invisions, or some damn bunch, come along and
either want to capture or kill the Herculoids. Why? So they can all
fight, godammit, why else?
