5/2/11

If They Move...

"Swedes are Germans in human shape." Alfred Knopf

"Fists are nature's problem solvers." Ted Grant, Wildcat

Hey

First off, if you're one of the folks who e-mailed me on my suddenlink account these past three plus weeks and have been wondering- testily, in some cases- why I haven't responded it's because once again Bill got his computer all virused up, and this time I'm forced to admit it was indeed from one of those sites (Lisa Ann, how could you betray me so? Alas, not the first time I've been led astray and let down by a slutty brunette with big tits and since I learn nothing from even the most egregious of my mistakes it probably wont be the last) and due to a combination of Joe being out of town (Laura brought me back some very neat SF movie poster post cards from Boston, thank you dear) and Bill being just too damn busy it took me a while to get it down to him and I've only just gotten it back. I was able to keep up a little correspondence on this msn account- no, I still haven't cancelled it yet, there was some reason why I was waiting but I can't remember what it was now.

Besides mostly disappearing off the computer map I've been laying low this past month in person as well (was recently accused second hand of being distant and stand-offish but I think that's my nature most of the time not just lately) through a combination of being too busy and poor health. In the busy aisle it truly is time to stop the madness- Bill now has a third job, although I've found that it's not work at all that I hate, what I fucking hate is people. With all my black heart.

I'm now also working for PAR Inc, which is the parent company of the scrapyard, Nancy owns that whole big industrial park where the yard is located and the guy who cut her grass the last few summers wanted paid in cash this year which she refused to do so I took on the job. Not at all hard, in fact I actually like it, ride around for hours at a time cutting these six huge fields, I don't even mind the weed eating cos you know why? THERE'S NOBODY AROUND TO FUCKING BOTHER ME, there's just me and the mower and the weedeater makes three. Peaceful. And since I mow shirtless I'm getting a nice tan as well.

Thing is between the cutting and the yard and the library I'm working 8 am to 8 pm through the week plus some on weekends. Who'd have ever thought we'd see the day?

As for the health thing I STILL have that fucking cough I picked up in Mexico. It will subside for a few days, then come back. Three Sundays ago- man, it seems a hell of a lot longer than that- I worked security alone at the Main Branch in Charleston. Thank God it was a quiet day cos I was SICK. Woke up feeling like shit and as the day progressed it just got worse, got feverish as hell, it was just a nightmare day staggering up and down those fucking library steps with the sweat rolling off of me, I got within about three feet of this lady working the front desk and she said, "My God, I can feel the heat coming off of you from way over here"-

(I GET THAT A LOT TOO)

-different heat, I was supposed to stop by Danny's on my way home, called and told him I was too sick, he called back about an hour later and said stop by for a minute anyway I have something for you, started to not but I did and I'm glad cos Danny had called his dentist who called in a prescription for Keflex (antibiotic) which Danny picked up and paid for and gave to me which was pretty damn nice of him. Of course if I die who's going to watch his back at all the wrestling events . . .

Keflex seemed to kill the fever, it hasn't come back but I just can't shake this cough. And I hurt my right elbow in Mexico by slamming it repeatedly into Aztec's stubborn Mexican punkin and it still hurts. I keep aggravating it by lifting but what are you going to do?

(STOP LIFTING FOR A WHILE?)

That would be giving in. Of course my knees still hurt like fuck, especially the right one, even tired as I am from all this godless work I'm not sleeping too well, the weight is just flying off of me- STATS says on March 1st Bill weighed 231, too much as some of that was beer weight that needed to be dropped, April 1st it was 224, today? 212. That's okay for Bill but too light for DFZ. Not eating much cos I'm not hungry, not drinking much cos I'm too busy. I assume that's all it is. Don't feel sick right now per se, just more tired than usual. And distant and stand-offish.

On a more positive note I-

(WHO?)

-okay, DFZ got hooked up for some recreational sex a few weekends ago and my-his- our, whatever- performance was up to our usual standards so at least there no worries in that department. Thank God.

This forgetting shit is starting to be a real issue though. Forgetting all kinds of appointments, I'm not just forgetting the names of people up at the Main library but forgetting I've already met them so I keep reintroducing myself to the same folks who I'm sure are saying to themselves "Glad he doesn't carry a gun"-

(I'M SURE THEY'D SAY THAT ANYWAY)

-I keep losing things around the house- Joe gave me a bunch of DVDs last Sunday that I have no idea in hell where they're at now, same with the four graphic novels I checked out of the library on Tuesday, fuck me, it's getting old. Or maybe it's me that's getting old.

(PERISH THE THOUGHT)

You're right. Must be something else. Like organic brain damage . . .

Enough of that.

Still dead at the yard, Ronnie's been getting on my nerves lately with his constant cry baby complaining- I get enough of that shit at home- so I haven't been talking to him much but he was telling Nancy last Friday about his daughter coming over to his house with the two kids of the guy she lives with, a boy, age 4 and a girl, age 2, who are apparently not at all well behaved children which shocks me absolutely none, they were driving Ronnie crazy(er), "So I give 'em some Googlers and that shut 'em up." I have no idea if Googlers are candy, a toy or some kind of arcane Marmetian martial arts blow, but if you're looking to shut kids up I guess Googlers are the way to go.

Have to admit I've been pretty pissy toward the AJ kids at CL library of late, I just have no fucking patience right now, threw a whole damn table of five out last Thursday, they hadn't been in the library 30 seconds, one of them hadn't even set down yet when I tossed them. Why'd I toss them? Cos they were getting on my fucking nerves, that's why. And because I can.

On the good side I did get connected through one of the part time librarians who is a student there with the massage therapist class at Everett here in Cross Lanes and in the past month I've gotten a free chair massage, two free full body massages, one from Danielle (who said to me "Did you know you have three spines?" "Why no, human, what makes you say that?"- apparently the muscles along my spine are so tight they feel like bone, that's why I'm getting a massage, duh) and one from Eric both of which were excellent and a $15 one from Katie. If you want a good cheap massage (and who doesn't) I recommend them highly.

And Little Miss Chaos Butt hasn't been back in the library and I haven't seen her in the neighborhood recently while walking Cooper so I'm hoping she's moved. Seriously.

Cooper.

Took my mom up to Lori's the Friday before Easter (the yard was closed cos I guess it's a sin to scrap on Good Friday). It was a stormy day and Cooper, that timid little fuck, is afraid of thunder, he's all shakey and cowering like he does when it storms so I think, "He rides in the car well, I'll just take him along with us so he won't be here all alone and frightened." This was my big mistake and again another example of Bill Never Fucking Learns cos every time- every time- I try to do something nice for man or beast it always bites me in the fucking ass.

He's okay on the ride up, we get to Lori's and it's raining really hard so I tell my Mom to stand on Lori's porch holding the dog on his (30 foot extensible) leash while I get her stuff out of the car. Although I should have seen what happened next coming, I never did. I head back for the car all unthinking, then I hear my Mom blurt "I can't hold him!" hear a big crash and turn around to see her lying face down on Lori's front sidewalk, unmoving, a big bunch of blood already coming out from under her head. That idiot dog has come charging full tilt after me cos God forbid I get ten feet away from him and my mother is too fucking brain dead to let go of the leash so he's pulled her down right on her fucking face.

I figure she's dead for real, has cracked her skull wide open. I give Cooper a boot that damn near puts him into orbit and go check on my Mom. She's not dead, but her face is a mess, big bloody scrapes across her forehead and chin where she went face down on the concrete and a wicked gash across the bridge of her nose where her glasses have broken and cut her badly- Abdullah would be jealous of the color she's getting. Other than that she seems to be okay, so what does Bill do? As I later heard my Mom describing it to Thelma, "go bananas."

"Why didn't you let go of the leash? That's all you had to do. What the fuck is wrong with you? What the FUCK is WRONG with you!?"

Yes, there Bill stands over this poor battered, bleeding old woman shouting obscenities while trying to kick the brains out of this confused, cringing dog that keeps circling him just out of kick range and whom I was also cursing at the top of my lungs- "Wait till I get my hands on you, you little shit. WAIT TILL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!!! I'm gonna PULL YOUR GODDAMN HEAD OFF!!"- it was fucking ugly. Why I wasn't struck down at that moment by a bolt of lightning is a question for a better soul than mine cos God knows I had it coming.

And after all that excitement my Mom is no worse for wear tonight save for a scab still across the bridge of her nose (the cursing didn't seem to have much impact on her at all). I didn't pull Cooper's head off or get rid of him as I also was going to do, he (wisely) walked soft around me for a few days but then got over it and is again right up my ass so he's over it as well. I'm still having nightmares but what the fuck . . .

Sarah doesn't like her new job- she says they're mean to her there which makes my blood boil-

(IF THOSE ASSHOLES COULD HAVE SEEN YOUR PERFORMANCE IN LORI'S FRONT YARD)

-no shit, but the good news is she's coming in for Memorial Day. Be lovely to see her. Rachel is still calling me every Sunday, still unhappy living with her mother, I'm still staying out of it.

And though he's not quite my kid, while we're on the subject Charlie just got a job in Pittsburgh, moved there today (Sunday), starts his job tomorrow. Congratulations. And while I'm not even a little bit of a fan of the place, in fact I think the city of Pittsburgh sucks donkey dicks, once he gets settled we need to go up for some Pirates games and go by Primanti Brothers for some grub.

In the obituary column it's the end of an era. Al has finally moved on to that big Aristocrat in the sky. He died a couple Mondays ago and I missed his funeral. Kathy called me about it earlier in the week but then I, yep, forgot about it and was then sound asleep at noon that Saturday when she called to say she was on her way to Huntington and could pick me up, this being the Saturday after my all night Friday rec sex and I needed the rest. But I would have gone if I'd remembered and/or woken up.

Also NL buddy Butch who was often mentioned in here when he'd amble into Shaar's to buy our hero mutiple beers and give him expensive cigars and pour him beer mugs full of Early Times and generously share his pain pills has also died (and boy am I going to miss him), around the same time as Al, his pancreatic cancer finally gettig the best of him. RIP Butch.

I must be the most destructive person on earth. I was thinking of something a second ago and I wanted to write it down before it escaped me. I always keep a bunch of notepads and a Death Falcon coffee cup full of pens here on my desk, I grabbed one of the pens and it wouldn't write so I kept pressing down harder and harder, "Come on, write you fucker . . write," to the point where I'm tearing the paper, it still won't write so I stab the pen real hard about six times into the desk (in retrospect why I thought this would make it write is beyond me) all that does is bend the nib sideways, fucker won't write for sure now so I throw it on the floor (I was aiming for the trash but threw it too hard) and grab another pen, this one doesn't want to pull free of the cap so I yank extra hard- and the fucking pen breaks in half, with the writing part still in the cap and ink all the fuck over- so in the space of thirty seconds I'm sitting here with two wrecked pens AND I'VE FORGOTTEN WHAT IT WAS I WANTED TO WRITE DOWN.

As I walk this land of broken dreams
I have visions of many things

What's Bill been watching?

Not a lot- Eastern Promises which I got from the library and was good, Viggo had a lot of nerve (already know he's got balls cos I saw 'em) to do that naked fight scene. Also some music DVD's, The Who at The Isle of Wight 1970, a Small Faces comp with 27 live performances, and The Zombies Revisited (the Zombies always make me sadly nostalgic for fall/winter 1976 when Loretta and I used to sit on her parents couch and make out for hours to Time Of The Zombies) which are all highly recommended, but I need a new set of speakers for my computer, the right one quit working months ago (really noticeable while watching the Who DVD) so anyone who feels like giving me some new speakers please get in touch.

What's Bill been reading?

What I can recall is A Carrion Death (good mystery set in Namibia), Farthing (another good mystery set in an alternate world where the Brits and German- who I understand somewhat resemble Swedes- reach a truce in 1940 to end WW II), Men of Tomorrow about the early days of comic books, a Conan trilogy by Robert Jordan (no Robert Howard he), the latest Walter Mosely, whose generic title I've already forgotten- book was pretty good though- a big collection of Kirby and Simon stuff, a biography of Roald Dahl who for some reason I thought was this big jolly guy but was in truth more of a big mean prick (if the bio is accurate) and a giant omnibus of his short stories, Tank Rider, a memoir by a guy who served in the mechanized infantry for the Red Army in WW II- better him than me- a book about all of the significant writers and artists who worked for National Lampoon with samples of all their work- back in the day I always thought National Lampoon was more trying to be funny than actually funny but there was this one joke in there, a photo of a night sky, storm clouds with a bolt of lightning shooting across the page with this caption- "Captured on film is the inside of a Chinaman's brain while the Chinaman was attempting to pronounce the letter "L". It's not PC but fuck me that's funny. I laughed about it for days and I'm laughing again right now.

Lastly, this GREAT big book about whiskey, all kinds, scotch, bourbon, rye, you name it, 700 different whiskeys with a color photo of each bottle and a review of how it tastes. I'm on page 180 some and still in the scotch section which leads us to-

What's Bill been drinking?

Not a hell of a lot lately, after MC at Chris's three weeks ago last Friday went two whole weeks dry, drank two cases- yeah, cases- of Yuengling over Easter weekend (which I spent alone) and which I needed badly, reading all this scotch blather has again made me think I'm somehow missing the boat when it comes to scotch- how can all these drinking men be wrong?- so I bought a bottle of J & B- it was the first scotch I saw- somewhere, maybe over at the Smith's house, I think he drank scotch- as a kid and I always told myself I would drink a bottle of it someday. So, after I got home last night was someday.

First I tried it with a splash of water cos that damn book says water opens up the taste of scotch. Tasted like fucking iodine. So then I tried it over ice cos I figured colder would be better, also that same stupid book says ice closes off the taste of scotch so I'm thinking "less iodine". Nope, just cold iodine. So then I mix it with some soda cos scotch and soda is a cool drink. You got it- iodine and soda. So then I said fuck it and chugged it straight from the bottle till it was all gone cos by God, iodine or not I bought it and it was going down the fucking hatch. Then I drank a six pack of Harpoon IPA to get the iodine taste out of my mouth.

And I was pretty hungover this morning so that shit about scotch not giving you a hangover is just more bushwah.

In DFZ news had a super busy weekend a few weekends ago, worked the XMCW 10th Anniversary show (over 300 there, 253 paid) DeathStars 2.0 Vs. the XMCW trainees in a fans bring the weapons match, we beat the kids to a bloody pulp far too convincingly because some of the fans thought it was for real and the lady who runs the ASC was quite upset herself, she came to the back after Allen all upset, "I told you the match was going to be bloody," he says, "You said it was going to be bloody," she replies, "You didn't say it was going to involve MURDERING CHILDREN." I didn't help much by laughng but really, murdering children, how funny.

(I'D CALL THAT FAMILY ENTERTAINMENT)

As would I. Went up to Ohio the next day for that shit XWE fed (but he pays well) not expecting much and heavily medicated, me and Allen ended up tagging as a face team- how's that for crazy ass booking- and wound up having a hell of a match, he and I at one point did stereo topes onto Dirk and Avery (and no I honestly don't know how I can do this shit during a match when I can hardly walk before and after). Had another match in Ohio Sunday afternoon which was okay, then came back to work a birthday gig Allen had set up with a short crew and again had a really good time, wrestled Smokey C for about the billionth time but for the first time in years before this all in Royal Rumble sort of main.

No Mexico trip conclusion this time around either, but I did get reminded of a funny Bill and his Dad story today by Tina so I'll try and get that in next time. Right now it's bed time for Bill. Got work tomorrow you know.

We suffer as we choose.

Later

Bill