5/23/02

Hammered

If you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything

Hey

Yow. Fatigue and alcohol are numbing my mind, it's hard to get started. I don't edit these fuckers, I just sit down and type them through, go back and fix spelling and grammar- well, wait, okay, I guess I DO edit them, I guess the word I was looking for was rewrite, or something, I don't fucking know . . .

How's everyone been? Good, I hope. Seen or heard from most of you since last time around, those I haven't, drop me a line, I miss ya.

What's Bill been up to? Well, to get the professional as opposed to personal (hell, it's all personal to me) shit out of the way, CCIL told me 5/10 (by voice mail, gutless cunts), that they were stopping my expenses to Beckley as of that date cos they couldn't afford it any more, I told them 5/14, fine, I fucking quit, they came back 5/15 and said we'll raise your salary to what you were making in expenses if you'll stay, we can afford that. Make any sense to you? Me either. I told them I'd stay, but the more I think about it (of course I'm hammered right now, so this is subject to change) I think I'm gonna give my 2 weeks notice the first of June and take the summer off like I planned way back in February when I first started this nonsense.

Thought about staying in Beckley the rest of this week, cos God knows I'm sick of the drive and would appreciate the rest, but decided to bail on that idea, besides, the $150 or so bucks I would've spent on the room will pay my phone bill for 3 months after I'm unemployed.

Personally, well, I'll save the sex story for the end, otherwise, Joe was out weekend before last, we put down a fine version of "Walk On By," didn't get anything mixed and on the website, though, still no Death Falcon photos from Hagerstown, I keep e-mailing the guy, he keeps saying he's going to send them to me, and that's where we still stand, been doing a substantial bit of recording on my own, everybody say "bullshit" at once, but on these long evenings alone out here I've been working out a lot on the acoustic, along with the Dano 12, and am actually getting back to being semi-good at the pretty stuff, I've grafted a couple of really nice acoustic leads on both "WOB" and "She Took A Long, Cold Look".

On the other, ugly hand I put down the bed tracks for "The Molemen Want Your Eyes," four very evil, descending notes played over and over on that possessed organ thing I've got (no, not that one, the other one) for 11 minutes and 47 seconds. And I played it 3 times in a row, got that damn carpal wrist thing going by the end. Pretty creepy riff, for real, Rachel made me turn it off, it was scaring her. Also got the bed for "Magic Deathtrap", another fucking Bo Diddley rip by yours truly, played for maximum distortion- my favorite guitar effect of all time will always remain sheer fucking volume- with demented lyrics and breaking glass effects that were unintentional but fit really well.

Dave came out last Saturday, and like everyone else their first time out here went, damn, this isn't a bad place. No, it's not, at all, and it's dirt cheap, I'm renting a 4 bedroom house for $200 less than my sister is spending for a 2-ish bedroom over at the lake. This place is just so fucking FAR from everything. Dave brought out some home brew, when he first suggested it I was thinking, okay, I had other plans for Sunday than to spend all day on the shitter, but knock yourself out . . . but this stuff was actually really good, tasted like real beer with a little extra kick, bring some more out any time you want. Doug and I still need to get together for a good brew up (Doug, do you remember that home brewing free for all the night we left for the beach in 85? God, what a lovely week that was, except for when you almost blew up the public toilet that had that HUGE sign saying WHATEVER YOU FUCKING DO, DO NOT THROW YOUR CIGARETTE IN HERE, by throwing your cigarette in it).

Since you are unknown to us, we will call you Unknown Boy.

Last Saturday would have been my 23rd wedding anniversary. No, I'm not fucking wallowing in it, just stating a fact.

What's Bill drinking? Budweiser, and plenty of it. Why? Just in the fuckin' mood, I guess. Had a case in the refrigerator I bought early last week and hadn't touched, decided to get into it tonight, 12 down, 12 to go. Those of you who know me- and if you're wondering why I preface a lot of statements with that phrase, it's because besides the people at the top of this who get the bulk mailing, there are also another almost 20 persons who've asked I send a forward to them individually, hell, some haven't even asked, I send it to them anyway (Hi, Erin), for over 30 people who get it upfront, plus I know a number of you who send it out again in forwards to your friends, with my blessing, plus there's that website thing Joe set up, so I don't know how many people in the end are taking a look at this- I normally get 2-3 e-mails a week from people I've never heard of, who've gotten hold of this e-rag one way or another, which is pretty neat, actually, I may comment on some of them later-anyway, I know a lot of people end up reading this who don't actually know me, that's why the preface- what the fuck was I talking about?

Oh yeah. Those who don't know me may think I'm talking out my ass about 12 down, 12 to go, those who know me know there's times when I'm rolling when 12 beers is like spit on the sun. And it feels like I'm rolling . . .

And if you're wondering how I can be this fucking coherent while drunk, I'm not, I'm doing this a sentence at a time, I type this gibberish wack, fix it, then type in the next one.

What's Bill listening to? Something/Anything by Todd Rundgren, great, GREAT melodic stuff, "I Saw The Light", "It Wouldn't Have Made Any Difference", "Cold Morning Light", "Marlene", the transcendent "Hello, It's Me." Love it.

What's Bill reading? Went by the library for the first time in a long time last Thursday, dropped Sarah off at the Capitol Theater then went in the Charleston library right across the street to kill the 2 hours till show time, didn't realize how much I missed our old trips to the Dunbar library till I got back amongst all them books, checked out a dozen, just finished one on Hong Kong Action Cinema, which I guess is self explanatory, reading now a biography of Chester Himes (by big shot James Sallis). Chet was a cool guy, wrote the gritty Coffin Ed and Gravedigger Jones novels about black cops working in Harlem, you might be familiar with Cotton Comes To Harlem, which was made into a film in the early 70's with Sidney Poitier and Bill Cosby as the leads, but the film's not a pimple on the book's butt. I mean, Sid and Bill as hardass cops? Fucking please. Sid, maybe (In The Heat Of The Night). Cosby? Never.

As for Sarah's play, once again I was truly damned impressed with how well done it was. Decent play, excellent performances. She's trying out this Saturday for the next 4 plays, should keep her and her transport busy at least till Christmas.

My beloved nephew Tommy turned 18 last Friday (Jesus God, the child just got here). He also turned into a great big hairy faggot (just ask my dad). Everybody call Tommy a great big hairy faggot. Great big hairy faggot. Why? He got his fucking ear pierced. Bitner men don't do that, son. A tattoo, now . . .

I'm thinking about getting the Green Lantern emblem tattooed on my chest, full sized, just like he has on his uniform. In fact, I'm thinking about it real hard right now (14 down, 8 to go).

She took a long cold look.

Okay, time for the sex story. When I was in Hagerstown a few weeks ago I got into a conversation with this girl while I was waiting to get back into the locker room, who was just sort of hanging out there (this was before the paying folk came in). I never did get real clear on why she was there- I asked her if she was a groupie, which in retrospect I realize was kind of rude, but I didn't mean anything by it, I just sort of thought it and said it at the same time, which is something I have a frequent problem with. (She said no, by the way).

We spoke for a just a few minutes, she actually did the majority of the talking, her name was Stacy, and she's 22 (!) and goes to Shepard College, I mentioned Sarah has considered going there for their theater program- you know, just blah blah blah, passing the time. When I told her I was from Charleston she said she would be coming through here on her way to Florida where she would be working for the summer, and maybe she would stop and we could have dinner. I was like, sure, whatever, here's my e-mail address, you'll never get me by phone, where the hell is John, we gotta get this shit on the road, I gotta get back to Inwood and pick up my dad at Donald's, he's fucking crazy.

Imagine my surprise when I get an e-mail from Stacy (I'm going, who?- oh, yeah) saying she's coming through Charleston on the 11th and she'd stop and have dinner with me if I was free. I said yeah, so then she e-mails back, did I know anyplace she could stay in town for the night? Say what? Again, I said yeah.

So, I meet her in Kanawha City, we eat, she follows me out here, we hang out for a while, she drinks some wine (she brought it herself, Lord knows I didn't have any) I drank some beer, it was actually very cool and pleasant and relaxed, I'd made up my mind I wasn't going to hit on her, I felt a little creepy about even trying it, to tell you the truth, so I just treated her like a guest (and yeah, I know, she was spending the night here, I'm not fucking retarded, but still) and it was fun, no, shit, it was wonderful, to spend the evening in the company of a pretty girl without that sex vibe thing getting in the way. She was a kid, but a nice kid, and a seemingly very intelligent one (but what in the name of all that's holy is she doing spending the night with some guy she met for FIVE FUCKING MINUTES at a FUCKING WRESTLING MATCH of all things, in this very dangerous Year of Our Lord 2002- if she was my kid . . .) and a very good conversationalist, and those couple hours we spent talking did me a world of fucking good, I promise you. What happened later didn't hurt much, either.

So, it starts getting late, I tell her she can sleep in my bed, I'll sleep in one of the girl's rooms, Rachel's, actually, cos all that witchy shit in Sarah's gives me nightmares, I go back to Rachel's room, a couple minutes later Stacy says, can you come here for a minute, I go back to the living room, she's not there, I go back into my room . . . and she's laying in prime Playboy pose across my bed, wearing nothing but my Death Falcon mask and a smile. A really big smile. I'm far from the most religious guy you'll ever meet, but don't let anyone ever, ever tell you that there's not a God. And call me a sick motherfucker if you want, but her wearing that mask absolutely set me OFF.

19 down, 5 to go, but I'm starting to fade

I got an e-mail from her last week, she got to Florida safely, sent me her address and phone number in case I get down that way this summer (doubt it, but it's a nice thought), says she'll let me know in August when she's coming back through town, wants to know if she can spend the night again. That's a fucking roger.

20 down, 4 to go. We're at about 20 minutes a paragraph now.

21 down, 3 to go. I'm fucking finished.

Can't even think of a closing quote or comment. Bye.