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4/25/03 I Can Fly
Hey That would be DF0 movie theme song #1, above. To start things off, got the biggest "people I don't know response" in MONTHS to last issue, most of them bagging on me for the free money thing. Kiss my ass you bunch of jealous fucks. Bottom line for me is if you love me then you're happy for me, and if you don't love me, I don't give a fuck what you think anyway. With that out of the way, what's been up with Bill? Well, your boy just got in from Shepherdstown, as in earlier this am, and yes, I had a good time. More on the trip later, don't want to lead with the good stuff, but I will say, I'd forgotten how wonderful sleeping all hugged up with a good looking woman can be. Both nights I slept just like a damn baby- with a breast in my mouth, ha. So, besides my dick, what else has been up? With the girls being in Baltimore, I was back into the music thing earlier this week- I like recording at night, hard to do when the girls are around cos they either want to help or hang out, or else they're complaining "we can't hear the television!" which distracts me tremendously either way. I also like to get pounded when I'm playing (I think it's a defense mechanism), which I don't like to do when they're here. Put a few more Kira Majin songs in the Infernex, which I'd say I've pretty much mastered except if I did it would probably electrocute me next time I touch it, "Oriental Surf" and "Hear Me Saying Nothing", (If you were animal feed/You couldn't mean less to me), nice wirey lead on the latter, sounds sort of weird, where everyone else and their monkey ass brother would go up, I go down, also "Brain Dragons" (I've got dragons in my brain/What more can I say?) with some good organ, I'm turning into quite the one-handed, three fingered organ player (go ahead, think something smart). I like to play with my left hand while drinking a beer with my right. It relaxes me. Sometimes it relaxes me so much I forget to play. Last time Joe was over: J: What are you doing? Also put down some dishwashing detergent bottle drum- whack it hard enough you can get a good kick drum sound. I played Spurgie an old demo tape when trying to sell him on including some of my songs when I was playing bass for faux Slaymaker (10 years ago this fall, dear Lord), he asked how I got that great drum sound, when I said by beating on a dd bottle with a drumstick, he gave me the funniest look. Paul Molive was listed on the tape as drummer, it seemed clever to me at the time. Of course drunken dd drums playing can be a trial. First take about halfway through I hit too hard and sent the bottle sailing out of my hand (you have to hit it HARD, though, so you get that "crack"). Second take I missed the bottle entirely and hit the microphone instead, sent it spinning out of its stand and damn near through the window. Third take I smashed the bottle in half. Fortunately, I had another on hand, and fourth take was the charm (I missed a beat when I slipped in the puddle of detergent, but fuck it, it's close enough). While I'm thinking about it, my favorite song of all time is "You Really Got Me," by the Kinks (and ONLY by the Kinks). Second best version I ever heard was by local band Jarvis Skye, they did some GREAT covers, selection and execution, before deciding to write their own stuff, which unfortunately stunk, and I think they're now defunct. Song I most wish I'd written? "What I Like About You." Okay as a song, but if those fuckers kept the rights they're jillionaires now, cos you can't turn on the goddamn TV without hearing it in an ad or on a soundtrack. What about the writing? Got a couple shorts back, rejects (too graphic!?), STILL no word about Drains, I sent out a query saying what's up, you'll know when I do. Am I getting tense about it? A little, no news at least isn't bad news, but I want them to BUY the damn thing.
B: You need in the bathroom, I'm wanting to get a shower. I'm not in there and soaped up good before in he comes. B: What the hell are you doing? Too late. B: Oh my GOD. I storm outta the shower- D: HEY! - and out of the bathroom, straight into my mom. B: Sorry, ma. She looks back in through the still open bathroom door at my dad sitting there scowling on the pot. He looks like some damn big mean ass bird guarding its nest. M: That's all right, honey. My dad got impacted once, apparently put the fear of God (and not being able to shit) in him. Actually, impactions are no joke, I remember I hadn't been on the job at CCIL too long, stopped by to see this real nice old guy in Kanawha City who had PVD and diabetes, the open sores on his feet smelled like rotting strawberries, I swear, (bottom line is we're made to run on salt water, not sugar water, watch your blood sugar levels boys and girls), we knock and the HM hollers "Come in", we do, and follow the sounds of grunting and straining to the bedroom where I see what I think is the most bizarre case of abuse by a homemaker, "Good lord, she's trying to shove that bee hive up that old guy's ass!" Turns out it wasn't a bee hive, but a clump of impacted feces the size of your damn head, and she was trying to get it out, not in. And no, that was most definitely not her job, but at that point, what are you gonna do? Another time had this nice old geezer who suddenly went crazy, seeing and hearing things, attacked his family and the HM, they had to strap his ass down to get him to the psych ward, everyone's going "What the hell?"- then they find out he hasn't had a bowel movement in well over a week. They get him cleaned out and he's back to normal. Backed up shit induced hallucinations, Jesus, can you imagine what those are like? God bless him, (back to my dad) even when he knows the right damn word he can't get it to come out of his mouth. Took him and my mom to the Cross Lanes library last week, the usual librarian wasn't there, so my dad asks, "Where's Alice?" Library girl- "She's home with a virus". Later my mom asks him, "Where's Alice?', he tells her "She's home with a fetus", "Oh, that's too- she what?" Watching? There's a new show on Food Network, How To Boil Water, not a bad show at all for you novice cooks, it's a good way to learn some basic cooking stuff. Hosted by this girl, not killer but definitely on the cute side, I'd certainly, she looks best when she wears tight shirts, and this French chef guy. Even though I loathe them as a race, I will admit a genial, good natured frog does carry a certain Gallic charm, and this guy's okay. Still wouldn't want him watching my back in a fight, though- "Alors, Guillaume, we are undone!" "Imagine that." More evidence of the imminent end of days is this continued remake hell- Ed O'Neil in Dragnet, Ving Rhames as Kojak, Brett Butler (not the former Braves/Dodgers center fielder, who for an in your face style born again Christian was a damn pissy little shit, where's your love in Jesus you hypocritical fuck) but that big clunky dirty blonde who had some sitcom a few years ago, as McCLOUD(?!) and The Rock as Buford Pusser in Walking Tall. Sweet Jesus in heaven, is it raining newts yet? Also the fact that NO ONE CAN TALK GOOD ANY MORE! There's this new show out called Born To Diva. Besides being one of the most obnoxiously over used words on TV, Diva is a fucking NOUN. There was a guy on the news the other night saying "at this time the Marines are efforting-" I have no idea what, cos at that point I changed the channel. I know I'm a snob about language, but Jesus Christ- EFFORTING?! Also on the news saw where the oldest American died this week at 113 and this nurse had the balls to say "I guess it was just her time." Godamighty. Drinking? Right now, nothing. Drank some red wine with Staci, nothing special (the wine), got pounded last Friday afternoon on Bud (day time drinking, should know better, but I had to get up early Saturday so I figured I'd start early), got sick in the middle of the night, which almost never happens, I think it might be connected to that damn stomach acid thing being back, took a wrong turn in the dark and ended up throwing up on my living room floor. That night I just threw down some paper towels, and some carpet cleaner I found under the sink that was here when I moved in. Cleaning up next morning, that's some funky carpet cleaner, checked again, turns out it was wildflower fertilizer- I just saw flowers on the side of the canister- so if next time you're out here there's wildflowers growing in the middle of my living room, you know why.
While I'm thinking about Martha (careful, there), the new Nevada Barr is out, have you read it yet? Got it when I was at the library with my parents, haven't gotten around to it yet because I've been too busy fucking (sorry). I thought the early ones were really good, the past couple have strayed a little too far toward romance country for me. If you want to borrow it let me know, I'll get it to you next week when we all have lunch so I can get your wrestling tickets to you. Did no one mention that to any of you? Consider this notice, then, lunch, next week, wrestling (tickets).
Okay. Spent the past couple days in Shepherdstown. Driving up there I was feeling sort of creepy (YOU THINK TOO DAMN MUCH), when I invited myself up Staci seemed quite happy to have me but I was still self conscious since it was pretty obvious why I was coming round, so to speak. I got there though and it was great, she was sincerely happy to see me, no weird vibes at all, she acts like we've known each other for years and see each other all the time, and within 10 minutes of arriving I was feeling really comfortable with being there. Of course, within 10 minutes of my getting there we were in bed, but that's beside the point. Man, she's a cute girl, got that Michelle Phillips look back (she'd done something to her hair last fall, but now it's back the way it was, which looks a lot better). Didn't do a whole lot besides the obvious, worked for me, I feel great.
(HEY, QUIT MAKING FUN). The parking lot of Pritchard Lawn Care isn't exactly the Tokyo Egg Dome. (YEAH, WELL IT'S NOT SITTING AT HOME ON YOUR BIG FAT ASS, EITHER). Well . . . no, you got me there. Got an e-mail from Bob last week (I saved it) where he said I was the most intelligent and insightful wrestler he ever met (don't say anything about damning with faint praise). I'm trying to talk him into letting me be the booker for CPW, which means I'll set the matches and the outcomes, Bob's a great guy but working his booking is like going on stage with the script rewritten about 100 times on show night- "WHO am I wrestling again, and what's supposed to happen?" Asked him where I ranked among the tough guys, he said, "Well, you're no Arn Anderson, but you're a hell of a lot tougher than Buff Bagwell", yeah, well that was faint praise, Rachie's tougher than that preening shit bag, which is no joke, because she's such a sweet natured kid some people think Rachel's soft. Big mistake. Got a new wrestling video catalog, Big Japan just ran a show with a "Friendship Check Bonds Death Match" and a "Chestnuts and Kumquats and Sheave Lease (?) and Light Bulb Death Match". I know I've said this before, but the Japanese are the craziest people on this planet. Also in there is the reason I can never catch Abdullah at his rib shack, there's a picture of him appearing at the ROH show 12/7/02. What's he doing? Stabbing the living fuck outta some guy's forehead with a fork, what else. My hero. My sister Lori and The Brood were at my parents for Easter, she did this really thorough diagnostic on my neck and shoulder. Other than being tight beyond words, she couldn't find anything really wrong with my neck, showed me some new stretches, one I like to call the Sleepy Hollow, man, if I master that I won't have to get a job I can just join the damn circus, been stretching my neck all this week, actually feels better. Should have quit when I was ahead. The shoulder news wasn't good at all- I've got a tear in my lower right trap muscle, the rotator cuff is loose, which means it's been stretched but not torn (I could make a crude remark relating to my trip to Shepherdstown here, but I'll tastefully refrain), worst of all is that my shoulder's already seriously arthritic, which is something that had never occurred to me, dammit. Her advice- stop wrestling and let the tear heal, the cuff can only be fixed by surgical repair but as long as it still works she wouldn't bother with it, the arthritis is only going to get worse, get used to it. She also was saying a number of her patients were advocating that coral calcium that you can't dodge the infomercials for (Bob Barefoot says "critters" way too much for me to take him seriously), saying things like less pain in whatever's been hurting, more energy, better sleep. Not sure I'm convinced but I bought a bottle, been taking it this week, don't feel any difference, I'll let you know. Spent over $70 in Drug Emporium (cheapest place for this kind of stuff if you're looking) on Xenedrine, calcium pills, and whey protein- I quit with the soy, I got used to the taste but your body utilizes whey more efficiently, and that soy flatulence was potentially embarrassing. And yeah, $70 is a lot to spend on that shit, but what the hell, it was FREE MONEY. Gonna close with a clip from an article in the latest Giant Robot about sports related deaths- "In separate incidents along the Sepik River (New Guinea) in 2001, two fishermen bled to death after having their penises bitten off by pacu fish. The fish, which are related to piranha, are attracted to urine and seek it's source, which they bite off with their human like teeth." Hey, if I don't tell you about this stuff, who's gonna?
Later Bill Their human like teeth?!
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You've
never seen my face before 
My
dad. A lot of people say my dad stories are their favorite part of this
rag. Well, that's easy for you to say. Out there doing some more yard work
for him last week, come inside all sweaty-
I'm
eating pretty well right now. I took some flounder fillets out of the
freezer before I left for Shepherdstown, figured they needed to be cooked
today and I wasn't sure if I'd be around for supper this evening, so I put
them on the GF grill that Martha loaned me a while back- in fact, we're
getting close to the 2 year rule, which says anything you loan me for 2
years becomes mine. Probably shouldn't tell her that, now I'll get an
e-mail saying "Bring my grill back you bastard- my house will be the
one TIPPED ON ITS SIDE!" Any way, having grilled flounder and rice
for lunch- growing up in Maryland where we had access to fresh seafood all
the time I'm something of a seafood snob as well, and while fresh is
always better, the Kroger flash frozen stuff isn't bad.
"Twelve
O'clock High" is on the TV behind me as I type this. Seen it many
times, but it's still good. Someone observed a while back, "You sure
do watch a lot of old movies." You're right. I sure do.
If
I'm so lost without a friend 
Hope
everyone remembered to watch "The Endless Summer" on TCM last
night, even if you don't like surfing like I do, you've got to love the
hilariously cheesy Mike Love like narration. Could have easily turned into
a horror movie, those idiots were surfing in some of the most shark
infested waters in the world- Perth, Australia- Dakar, Senegal- Durban,
South Africa (I BEEN THERE)- I thought it was Cape Town? (THERE, TOO)- uhm,
good. Best way to watch it is lying naked on a couch with a nude college
girl wrapped all around you. Surf's up indeed.
I'm
out of here, movie club tonight.