2/17/03

He's Not From No Mars

Hey

I was gonna title this one, Ding Dong The Witch Is Dead, but she's not actually dead, only moving away. Still a good thing, though, as far as not having to deal with her as much, I hope.

To update, it has been a while since the last one of these things: Sarah didn't pass her audition, she's undecided whether she'll go to this back line performing arts high school still available to her there, though Loretta is pressuring both the girls really hard to move with her. My gut feeling? They'll probably go, at least to check it out, and hey, with my blessing (that piece of shit mother fucker wants to spend his money supporting my girls, hey, knock your scrawny ass out, dude). Not before September, however, they're pretty much exclusively mine till then save for 2 weekends a month, and some time this summer.

Loretta moves to Baltimore this coming Thursday (I guess, that's the third date she's given me), but she starts her new job there 2/24, so whatever.

I hope she's fucking happy (not really, who am I trying to kid), she's finally getting what she wanted ever since she started traveling this great land of ours through her work with the PSC back in '93, and hanging with bad mother fucking company, who through both words and example, got her dissatisfied with what I thought was a perfectly acceptable life. One of those maggots she'll soon be related to by marriage (and I don't mean dick less Paul, I mean dick less Jami, David, you were so fucking perceptive when you predicted she'd be trouble). I remember back in '95 or so, Loretta was all worked up, wanting to move to Houston, where she'd gotten not such a good job offer at all, I kept pressing, why the fuck are you so worked up about moving, she said "I'm tired of having to apologize for being from West Virginia."

Pissed my ass right off, and I'm far from Mr. Champion of this state, there's a lot I fucking hate about it, the willful ignorance of a lot of its residents most of all (my grandpa was stupid, and my pa was stupid, so I"M gonna be STUPID, FUCK YOU), but go to a genuine fucking shit hole like Detroit sometime, then try to tell me WV sucks. I told her, anyone who expects you to apologize for being from WV is a fucking asshole and you don't need to care what they think, and second, I don't give a shit if you live in Houston or Baltimore or Af-fucking-ghanistan, you're still going to be from WV. But she let that shit ass bunch of mooks she was traveling with convince her WV was for losers- I've heard her say that in the past 2 weeks, that WV is for losers- so- in the words of the immortal Joey Ramone (RIP, big guy)-

Glad to see you go go go go
Goodbye.

Had this fucking really vivid dream the other night that I'd let all this go, myself, in it I was talking to the old, young Loretta, when she was 18-19, with her long hair and all, and she was saying, you know, I didn't come out of this all that great myself, you promised me the fucking world when we were younger, you were gonna be Mr. Rock Star, you were gonna be Mr. Big Time Writer, and all I ended up with was a surly drunk, who, if we weren't screwing, didn't have the time of day for me for years on end. Which is ugly, but unfortunately true.

Now, I don't think Loretta's younger spirit self came to me in my sleep, so when I woke up, I figured it was good, sane Bill (yes, he does exist, mother fuckers) trying to talk sense to evil, crazy Bill, and I actually saw his point, and the fact that the Bill she fucked around on wasn't that shitty bastard, but that shitty bastard reformed (why'd she WAIT- I still don't get it), still didn't negate that shitty bastard- so I was going to try and bury this hellish rage thing, as best I could, cos it really is getting tiresome.

Loretta called me later that day, and I swear to GOD I tried, but she just won't let me. I'm all about trying to be nice, but she's just so fucking SHITTY, two minutes into the conversation I'm screaming "Fuck you, you fucking bitch!" and slamming down the phone. It's takes two, dammit, and she ain't cooperating.

What's Bill been up to lately? Seen quite a few of you lately, been kind of social, some of you been here, some of you I been there. It's been nice.

Been writing like a son of a bitch (what else), sent 3 shorts out this week past, scored a copy of Writers Digest Market Guide for 2002 at the Cross Lanes library, got a few markets lined up for the humor shit, look out, the feedback on Chapter 3 has been GREAT, thank you, sincerely. Oh yeah, along those lines, wrote a new Bill and his Dad adventure last week when it happened, it's fairly short, I'll send it along with this.

Finished a couple of the music books mentioned last issue (if I ever meet Van Morrison he'll be lucky not to get his ass kicked), right now reading Space Is The Place. Sun Ra was a fucking hoot, he used to say he was from outer space, most often Saturn, not as a schtick, he seemed to actually have convinced himself. His sister was a little more down to earth, so to speak- "He was born at my mother's aunt's house over there by the train station. I know, because I got down on my knees and peeped through the keyhole. He's not from no Mars". Ya gotta love it.

What's Bill drinking? Budweiser, it's an off night/day/whatever (my one a week).

What's Bill listening to? Some fucking Andrew Lloyd Weber super sized horseshit, cos the girls are watching one of his DVDs on the TV behind me (Dear God, do I hate ALW). Got DirecTV back, by the way, 3 weeks almost to the fucking minute after it went out, damn thing just came back. They kept telling me what I was getting on my TV was impossible (no shit).

I HAVE been listening to a lot of Free lately, borrowed their 2 CD best of when I was up at David's last week, great, great stuff, nice slinky riff songs like "Woman" and "Stealer", a red hot version of "The Hunter" first done by Albert King, who was this way cool, big burly black guitarist, left handed, he played a righty Flying V flipped over but not restrung, I LOVE the whole "what the fuck" attitude that oozes, and he took like zero shit onstage, Jimi Hendrix was a huge fan of his, and would get onstage and jam rather hesitantly with him at times, Hendrix was asked once why he laid back when he played with Albert, was it out of respect, Hendrix said, "Fuck no, I know if I show him up he'll kick my skinny black ass". Ha. Fucking HA.

Free are probably best known for "All Right Now", one of the best songs ever, and it will always be connected to a good experience for me, and since I'm in a story telling mood right now, here we go.

Early in our sophomore year at Marshall, my previous year's roommate, dear gay Steve, whom you all remember from earlier tales, asked me if I was going to some fall dance thing the school was having- somewhere.

B: I don't think so. I always end up getting into fights at those things.
S: You get into fights brushing your damn teeth (this is true, and had happened a few days earlier). How about you do it for me?

Steve's old girlfriend, Robin- even though he had decided he was gay, Robin was the last girlfriend he'd had, going back to last year, in fact, back to their high school days together, and she still loved him and etc., etc., it's complicated, (and I was always happy to be there when she needed a shoulder to cry on, not to mention when she needed, uh- more than that, Robin was a very pretty, petite, red haired girl, and a hell of a lay), but she wanted Steve to take her to the dance for some damn reason, and he'd agreed for another, but her roommate, Patti, had no date, and Steve wanted me to take her. I knew Patti, she was a little on the stout side for me, but not by much (and my version of stout is admittedly a little rigid), and she had a pretty face, and those whacking huge tits I've always been a sucker for, so I said ok.

B: You and Robin need to find someplace to go after the dance, then, cos I'm gonna take Patti back to their room and fuck her.
S: Bet you don't.
B: Why the hell not? Jesus, don't tell me she's gay too, I'm not going-
S: She thinks you're an asshole.
B: ME?
S: She thinks you drink too much and you run your mouth too much and you're trouble. Only reason why she's going with you is cos she thinks you've got a nice ass.
B: And I do. You just wait till she sees what's on the front side of it
S: In your deluded heterosexual dreams. (God, I loved that guy).

Well, Steve was right, Patti and I hit it off not at all, the dance was just dragging, she asked me twice to quit staring at her tits, second time I said "beats looking at your face," and she hit me in the arm, HARD, I was impressed (and hurt). The band starts playing "All Right Now" and I ask her to dance and she says, "oh no, I can't dance to this".

B: You can't dance to All Right Now?!? What the fucking hell's WRONG with you?
P: That's it, I've had enough. I'm going back to the dorm.

That cracked my ego pretty hard, so I pretended not to be able to understand her- "What? I can't hear ya, what? You say you want me to give you a big damn kiss? Okay."

So I did (at that point I figured there was certainly nothing to lose). Shocked her bloomers off (Steve said later her eyes bugged impressively- man, I miss that guy). After she got used to the idea, she kissed me back, good. Real good. So I kissed her again. And again. At that point, Steve and Robin (and half the people at the dance) are going, take it somewhere else. GOOD IDEA. So, we did. Her room, to be exact, and don't think I didn't put it in Steve's face afterward, and if Patti hadn't dropped out a couple weeks later- just wasn't into school, had nothing to do with me- well, who knows.

Still training hard in Ashland 3 times a week (we're back to modern times, again), missed yesterday cos of the weather. Bobby complimented the shit out of me last Sunday, and I don't care if it's immodest, I'm going to pass it along. There was this high school wrestler (big kid, not very tough, though) whose dad works out with Bob at the gym, so he came down for a try out/work out with me and Bob and Team Old School. Bob was explaining different wrestling styles and levels of stiffness, and I heard him tell this kid, "Wrestling Bill is like wrestling Chris Benoit".

Well, I was just over the fucking moon, first off Chris Benoit is easily- EASILY- one of the top five wrestlers in the WORLD, and secondly, Bob's wrestled him and every one damn else in the past 15 years so he knows whereof he speaks, so I'm starting to strut, and Bob sees it, and clarifies a bit- "I'm not saying Bill is as talented as Chris Benoit"- no shame in that- "he just wrestles the same way- very intense, very stiff, very real. Basically, if Bill puts a move on you, you don't have to fake it- he's gonna knock your ass down. The other side of that is, if you put a move on Bill, do it for real, cos he's not much into faking for you, and you'll piss him off more tapping him than you will slamming the hell out of him." Amen. But that's why my shit LOOKS SO REAL- COS IT IS.

I'm hoping for a big turn out from all you Death Falcon fans (have no idea what I'm going to be doing on the card at this point, some damn cheating thing, no doubt) here's directions to the Armory. Get off at exit 169, it's the one there by the refinery, just after you cross into Kentucky if you're coming from WV, just before you go into WV if you're coming the other way, turn toward Ashland/Catlettsburg (away from the refinery, right if you're coming from WV). Stay in the left hand lane, you'll go a couple miles, at one point the road will fork to the right, don't go that way, keep going straight in the left hand lane till you hit the stoplight at 29th Street, it's marked, there's a Taco Bell on the left there, you want to turn left onto 29th Street, go a couple blocks to the first stoplight, this is Lexington St (I think), anyway, you want to turn right at that first light on 29th St., go a few blocks and the Armory is there on the right. Not at all hard to find.

I've got tickets for $10 if anyone wants one, they'll be $12 at the door, pretty stiff, I agree, but Bobby's having to pay these guys from Australia a good fee to get 'em here-Mark Mercedes has wrestled for WWF and WCW, so he's no joke, and this girl who's coming with him- 6', 130, red hair, no idea if she's good looking or not- is coming for a WWE try out, so I imagine she's no joke, either. I can get you in to future shows for $7.

Guess most of you have heard by now, Mr. Perfect, Curt Henning, was found dead in his hotel room last week (Jesus, how many does that make?). He was 44. Shit. Also, Ed Farhat, the Original Sheik, one of the very first blood bombers from back in the Fifties, died last month, but hell, he was 66, and dead evil besides. RIP to both of 'em.

Jason brought over a football video when he was here last week about football tough guys, loved the deal on Johnny Unitas, still the absolute best football player EVER in my eyes, loved the man, Ukrainian immigrant buzz cut white trash blue and white Baltimore Colt, my fucking idol, he was talented through damn demanding it of himself, there's this clip where Jim Parker, Colt tackle, is talking about how his man got past him and hit Unitas and "tore his mouf' all a' loose" (Yow), then how some guard was packing mud up the semi-conscious Unitas nose (?!?) trying to stop the bleeding- Unitas woke up long enough to win the game. Watta guy.

The DF thinks we should institute a tough guy of the issue deal, so here's the DF tough guy for this time around- W. Robert Foran, old school elephant hunter. He and his gun bearer were out to bust a rogue elephant in Central Africa, as it was called in the 20's, now known as Uganda. Somehow, they found themselves on top of this pissed off elephant- which I don't guess is as hard to do as it sounds, rogues will apparently hunker down, and can hide in amazingly small spaces for an elephant. Foran, a cool mother fucker, stands his ground and bangs 3 rounds from his main rifle as it charges, but he can't get a good brain shot due to the brush, so he's fucked, the elephant grabs him with its trunk and pitches his ass, up over its back and into one of those wicked African thorn trees- they didn't bother to count how many stitches it took to close him up, but they sewed on him for over two hours, once he made it back to camp.

His gun bearer had dropped his gun and ran when he saw the rogue grab Foran. The elephant pursued and caught up with this guy and very bloodily murdered him. Since it caught him in the open, it slammed him into the ground with its trunk, then stomped him, then gored his ass for good measure. Foran, pissed, crawls out of the safety of the thorns and goes for the rifle his gun bearer dropped. The elephant sees him, catches him, and pitches him AGAIN into the thorns, slicing him even more to shreds. The elephant tried to get to Foran to finish him off, but couldn't get to him for the thorns, so it goes back to pasting the already dead and thoroughly mangled gun bearer.

Foran AGAIN crawls out of the thorn mess, ripped to nubbins, stark naked, as the thorns have literally ripped his clothes off of him, gets his rifle, sneaks up behind the elephant and, "at point blank range, I gave him all 3 rounds, right under the base of the tail" (that's a nice euphemism for asshole, eh?). "The bull ran off, squealing" (like a pig, no doubt, after his Rigby .350 reaming).

Foran spent most of a month recuperating. They found the rogue bull dead, the next day. Tough fucker, Foran, let's take our hats off to him.

If I weren't too damn old for it, it had crossed my mind to join the Foreign Legion if the girls move away. They get to have fun times like this- "Weiss has an enormous hole on the inside of his thigh the size and depth of a golf ball. It looks revolting, and is obviously poisoned. Schultz, the medic" (hell, there's his trouble right there) "pours brandy in it and says it will be fine. Weiss says nothing and drinks more beer. So does the medic." Sounds like my kind of guys.

Back to music, finished Beasts and We Found It On Venus, Joe came over last Wednesday and we got a real good mix of Beasts done, gonna re-do Venus on my own, I think I've got that mixing thing figured out (and man, Joe, we gotta stop mixing while drunk. I know I been saying that for 25 years, but SOMEDAY). Tried to put the organ lead on Jesus Says I'm Giving Up last night, that's all that's left to do and the Gorch Brothers CD is finished, couldn't come up with anything I liked after an hour of trying, cos I SUCK. Worked on Cryptomystic after that, there's no way in FUCK I was gonna replay all that rhythm shit, just started putting stuff over top of what was there, man, from suck I went to inspired, it sounds GREAT, killer feedback lead, couple keyboard parts, some Dano creepy lines, percussion, me and Sarah singing to cover up Loretta's bad (but admittedly only intended as scratch) vocal. Joe, you're gonna be amazed how good this sounds, especially if you drink a lot of beer first.

Haven't done any scan ins of my own in a while, Sarah brought her winter formal pictures home Friday, so I'm gonna scan in one of those (my baby looks lovely, and I'm telling you, her date had balls of steel to wear what he wore), along with one of me and her mom for comparison. Some people think they look a lot alike, but I can't see it in these pictures, Sarah's 16 in her picture, Loretta 17, and extremely pretty I must say, in hers (and I was 19).

Rachel has been reading Wizard the past 6 months or so, magazine about comics, I try to avoid it cos mostly it just pisses me off, but there was an amusing picture on the contents page, so I'm scanning that in with this as well.

Think I'll finish this one with a joke, stop me if you've heard it- What do you do if you're trapped in a room with a rabid pit bull, an armed terrorist, and a lawyer, and you have a .45 with only 2 bullets?

Shoot the lawyer twice.

Absolutely.

Show the world that love is still the light, you must be brave
Or you children of today are children of the grave

Bill