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3/15/05 Man Of The World
Hey Another one close on the heels of the last one- relatively, now that we're closer to a biweekly, than twice weekly schedule for this thing. I wanted to get this one out today- yeah, a sober, daytime edition as well, quite atypical- to clear next issue for a recapitulation of events from Prague, which I think I'll call "Trouble Is A Lonesome Town" in honor of Lee Hazelwood. Lee who? Fucking shame on you, "Some Velvet Morning" and "Summer Wine" (which we're still gonna do, Joe, dammit, if I can ever find someone to sing Nancy Sinatra's part- hell, the way things are going, maybe I'll just use Herself, maybe even slip the old girl a mercy fuck depending on how she still looks- yeah, I know, I'm all heart. Well, mostly heart). Also wanted to get this one out cos I fucking hate flying, and you just never know, last time I flew to Europe I was moved to write "If We Go Down", and it wasn't about mutual oral sex, believe me. Joe did a good solo version of it, it's on one of those old reel to reels at your house still, I'd bet, you ought to dig it up someday. And speaking of Joe and digging up, if the unthinkable does happen, or the more thinkable, like I get thrown in a Czech jail for life, I left directions with my Mom on how to find my buried treasure. It's not really buried, nor is it exactly treasure, but if need be, get it, take a little for yourself, and give the rest to the girls. Seriously. I leave for Prague at 6 am Thursday morning, and I can't wait, for a number of fucking reasons, but the main one is just to get out from in front of this computer for a while. I spent from 4 yesterday afternoon, when Danny called, to 7 this morning, writing new DF movie scenes for Prague for complicated reasons I don't feel like getting into, but basically so we can recoup more money from the budget once we get back, cos this trip is ending up costing Danny a lot more than he'd expected. I missed a night with Al, I owe him one cos I was supposed to go down there last night, actually, I may as well have for as many times as he called me. Jesus, Al, go to bed. That also means this movie shit is going to cut well into my time for Eastern European debauchery, as we're now filming DF stuff 3, maybe 4 days instead of the one, as well as maybe knocking me out of being in Rudi's film, since they're not shooting in Prague, but somewhere in Bohemia, and I may not have time to get up there. This trip is turning more into work than I'd like. Still should be a lot more fun than what YOU'RE doing next week. What's Bill been doing (beside writing the same fucking movie over and over and OVER?) For one thing, being damn glad that winter's ending. I've gone on about it before, but I can't stand living out here in the winter where it doesn't get light until after 8 am, and is already dark again by four in the afternoon, there's just too much psychic darkness attached to wintering down in the boondocks (people put me down cos that's the side of town I was born in). (YOU WERE BORN IN WASHINGTON D.C.). Yeah, but I don’t brag about it. I think I've spent my last winter out here, alone, anyway. Didn’t I say that last spring? Probably. If I did everything I said I was going to do- well, I'd be doing a whole lot of stuff, wouldn't I? Got a damn lecture from my Mom the other day about that alone thing, a friend of hers was wanting to set me up with . . . someone, I forget, I said thanks but no thanks, I think I know this person and she's not my type, nor me, hers, and even if I don't, the last person I want setting me up is one of my Mom's friends. My Mom gets all over me for setting my standards too high (boy, if she only knew), says I'm never going to be happy with anyone. Whatever, Ma, actually here recently I thought- well, never mind, and it was felt, not thought, anyway. I told her I don’t think they're too high at all, but after what happened last time, don’t you think they need raised? Shut her up, if nothing else. I was talking with someone on the phone the other night- yeah, the phone, amazing as that sounds, I had a couple of long phone conversations last week- and they jumped on the recent bandwagon as to what the fuck is my problem, with all the really neat stuff that's come, and is coming, my way, why was I acting so fucking down? I'm not unhappy, really, and I am excited about all this cool stuff, but it all seems a little empty. I wish Loretta were still around, the real Loretta, and able to appreciate all this and enjoy it with me, this is what we both dreamed about all those years together, and it just seems-again, the word that comes to mind is empty- without her. Fuck me for a whiner, I know, I'd find something wrong with the best of situations, but people been asking, that's what's wrong, okay? I still really miss her, and always will.
I wasn't going to donate the money- it's not that I don't trust people, but I don’t trust people, even good people, so I cashed the check and went to Aldi and bought $25- actually $27 something, I went a little over- worth of food, corn- I hope poor people like corn, cos they sure seem to get fed a lot of it- and peas and green beans, and canned pork and beans, and some dried beans and some boxes of macaroni and cheese, and some toilet paper so the poor people could wipe their asses after they shit out all the corn and pork and beans. I believe charity begins at home, or as close to it as you can get. so I was going to take it by this little church just a stone's throw up the road here Sunday morning and give it to 'em. Not like stand at the door and pass it out, "Here you go, brother, have some corn. Take a roll of this toilet paper too, for later", but give it to the preacher for their food bank or whatever. However, I was too damn hung over to get it to them Sunday morning. Technically, it was my ride who slept in, but that's a whole 'nother story. So I stopped by there yesterday, the church was locked and empty, so I went back to that little house that sits behind it. Some real TALL, real SKINNY guy- if he doesn't work during the week scaring crows, he ought to- answered the door. Bill: You have any connection with that church out there? I'd obviously come to the right people. Pastor Scarecrow was just tickled silly when I told him I wanted to give him some food to start a food bank with. Things started to go a bit wrong when he began asking me was I saved and which church I went to and started preaching at me and shit, I honestly hate that stuff, if I ask you to preach at me that's one thing, but if I don't, keep your fucking mouth shut is how I feel about it, I let him go on a bit out of politeness, cos polite is how I was raised, but I could tell he was winding up, not down, so I had to tell him, I just stopped by to give you this food, if I want a sermon I'll come by on Sunday. He stopped for a minute or so, but then started right back up, what IS IT with these religious folk that they can't understand when you tell them I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING HEAR IT, I was starting to get a little het up myself, thinking "This is what you fucking get, the guy who sold you beer and cigars didn't preach at your ass, did he?", I guess it was showing on my face, cos Pastor S sort of stopped in mid-sentence and shook my hand and thanked me for the food, and I told him he was welcome, and got in my car to leave. "Maybe I'll see you on Sunday" he said, and I couldn't resist telling him "If I'm not too hung over", and I got the hell out of there. Nice guy, as evidenced by his immediate willingness to give food to a stranger, but way too religious for me. Guess that's why he's a pastor and not a scarecrow. Now, I'm not telling you this story as a "Look at what a nice guy I am", cos no one is going to buy that anyway, but as part of a growing body of evidence that I truly believe I'm losing my fucking mind. There's this voice in my head that keeps telling me to stop doing bad things, and start doing good things, and it’s driving me nuts (THAT WOULD BE ME TALKING TO YOU). Oh yeah. It sounds just like your baleful, benighted ass. (THE NEW ME. YOU KNOW I'M GOING FACE IN A MONTH). Yeah, and you were pissed as hell about it, too. (THAT WAS BEFORE I THOUGHT IT THROUGH. HELL, BEING BAD IS EASY. DOING THE RIGHT THING IS WHAT'S HARD. ERGO, ALL THE TRULY TOUGH GUYS, ARE THE GOOD GUYS. SO I'VE DECIDED TO EMBRACE MY INNER GOODNESS. YOU SHOULD AS WELL.) You are so full of shit. Next you'll be telling me you're changing your name to Love Angel 69. (WHO TOLD?!) You know, the Death Falcon as face is a phenomenon that seems to be happening on its own. He has his own damn cheering section of about 6-8 teenage boys that line the rails, but Saturday night in Nitro most of the fucking crowd was behind him, it was weird. Disconcerting even, Falconette Anita was like, "What's THAT all about?" Beats me, dear. maybe it's your influence. Or maybe it was because the DF was working a couple of charisma less pieces of cow flop like Unholy and Bad Boy Dallas Michaels- nice enough guys, but they're still cow flop in the ring. The DF did lay a couple of wicked, frustration fueled chair shots on the Unholy at match's end before pinning him for the third fucking time in three matches, maybe Joe can include one on the site. Enough with The Unholy, already. Wonder who the DF is working his next two XMCW matches? The Unholy. Give me a fucking break. Before I give him one . . . Me, Falconette Anita, Joe and Charlie went out for traditional post show beers after the match, it was nice, as always, but I wish the Cold Spot stayed open later on weekends. Anita and I checked out Chris and Debbie's- who are on their way to Okinawa as we speak, an 18 hour flight, I can't even imagine-karate class last week. They do some good PT, lots of ab work, some upper body, not a lot of legwork as compared to Shaolin, my knee still kept going, "You're kidding, right?". At this point I don’t know if I'm going to start taking class with them or not. I do need to get back into movie look shape and that would certainly help, been working out hard at home and it's not getting any easier, God bless, why do weights have to be so fucking heavy? I'm keeping at it, cos I swear, the DF is going to be massive in this movie, and I don’t mean just in the sex scenes. I need to get back to the DF look from the shirt and mugs- (THAT'S A GOOD LOOK) Yes, it is, so much so I'm often accused of photo shopping it. (RACHEL TOOK THAT PICTURE). I know. (SHE WOULDN’T LIE ABOUT IT). Not about that, no. Maybe about sneaking boys in the house . (SHE'S YOUR DAUGHTER). And her mother's, God help us. Don't get me started. (SHE'S STILL YOUR SWEET BABY GIRL. DON'T FRET.) I don't, not really. But it's real easy to fret about someone you never see. Maybe if things get better between me and their mother she'll bring them in more. Or maybe I could go there and see them. Maybe a winged monkey will fly out of my ass and take me there. Maybe not. Synchronicity is a weird thing, I've had Loretta on my mind a lot lately, not the old hate thoughts, but the new "wish she still existed" thoughts, I was cleaning out a big stack of catalogs and magazines and shit in the music room, came across one of the old Victoria's Secret catalogs that somehow came out here with me that I know I haven't seen in over three years. I flipped through it, THAT was a mistake, it was one we'd ordered out of, still had some of the shit checked in it, looking at some of that stuff and remembering- damn. Loretta wore that kind of thing extremely well, not only because she had the body for it, but also the mind set, if a woman's gonna put on sexy outfits she needs to put on a certain attitude with them as well or it's just wasted, and Loretta had that kind of attitude, and some to spare. Haven't read anything lately, been too busy, got some paperbacks to read on the various planes, I'll let you know if any of them turn out to be any good. I watched "Kid Blue", the other night, it had 1970 all over it. Dennis Hopper, whom I'm not the biggest fan of, is this hippie cowboy outlaw circa 1900 who wants to go straight, and when he tries everybody in town fucks with his hippie cowboy ass, like the wonderful- him I am a fan of- Ben Johnson as Sheriff Mean John Simpson, he'll go in the bar and start scratching his arm, the bartender will then set him up with a shot of whiskey, Ben drinks the shot and his arm magically stops itching. Dennis can't adjust to working in the factory- can't fault him there- the only person to befriend him is a subdued Warren Oates (can't have him stealing the picture from Dennis), Warren is married to Lee Purcell, she looks pretty good, as does Janice Rhule, Peter Boyle is also along as this opium and coke addled preacher trying to convert the heathen red man- some funny stuff- while at the same time building a aero-sicle. It's not great by a long shot (or a log shit, as I originally typed), but it is pretty good, it's on FMC a lot, if it's on at a time you're looking to kill a couple hours, check it out.
Set the controls for the heart of the sun. Later Bill
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I
need a good woman 
I
don't know if this empty feeling is why I'm losing my mind or not. All
last week that church money kept preying, no pun intended, on my mind. I
got paid by check, and hadn't cashed it yet, so technically the beer and
cigars weren't bought with it. Some damn voice in my head kept going,
"Do something good with this money." Normally I don't listen to
such voices- we should all be grateful- but this fucker was really
insistent, sort of like Rachel going "Will you take me to the mall
now? Will you take me to the mall now? Will you take me to the mall
NOW?"
This
is rather abrupt, but I think I'm gonna go, I still have tons of shit to
get done between now and when I have to be at the airport at 5 am (can
planes even fly that early? Isn't the air still too thin or something?)
Thursday morning. Think good thoughts about me this coming week, I'll be
thinking good thoughts about you.