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6/17/09 Where's My Golden Arm?
Robin: Drink sure is a filthy thing, isn't it? I'd rather be dead than unable to trust my own eyes! Hey Speak for yourself there, Boy Wonder. As for the rest of you, welcome back to this low neighborhood, from Mayor Rumpot. Ready for some curious sights? Got a lot in the mail bag since last issue, the NLs with Bill and his Dad always seem to draw a good response, although not all of it addresses Bill and his Dad. Got another one of those crazy "I'll pray for you" letters that I can never tell whether they're a rib or not, this one calling our hero "a sinner, a substance abuser and fornicator". Well, yeah. If you want to pray for me, please feel free (just don't pray for me to stop substance abusing and fornicating, for God's sake). More down my alley, got one from a fellow drinker asking if I have any special hangover cures, since "no one could possible (sic) drink as much as you do and function, let alone survive, without one." First off, who says I function? That sounds perilously close to work. As for a cure, I hate to disappoint you but my main hangover survival tactic is being a freak of fucking nature, and you either are one, or you're not. But I do have some suggestions. Number one is (go figure) sex. You may not think you're in the mood for sex when you wake up with your brain all fucking crushed and all queasy stomached and loose boweled, but you should be. And so should your partner. Hangover sex, at least for Bill, starts out slow for obvious reasons, and never really does pick up speed. But it goes on FOREVER. Loretta would always start out protesting, "I told you last night when you were getting hammered we weren't doing this. Jesus, you reek of alcohol, get OFFA me, stop dammit" and end up, "Dear God, don't stop . . . don't stop", "Don't I still reek of alcohol?" "Shut up- and DON'T STOP". After sex, if you can get it, you need sleep. Lots of it. Sleep all the next day if you can. It's not a waste of time, it's preserving your health. And the third in our trifecta is rehydrate. You can drink some water before you go to bed, or pass out, but I usually don't, more because I forget than that it's not a bad idea. Get a couple liters of a "lite" sports drink, Gatorade or Powerade or something, just get the no, or 10 calorie ones, you don't need all that fucking sugar, especally hungover, put 'em by the side of your bed and every time you wake up, till you get up, drink some. Two liters is usually enough for me, you may need more or less depending. And that's it. I don't have any miracle food to eat the next day cos I don't eat, and I don't have any miracle drug that will cure your hangover either cos I don't do over the counter shit (although if you have some Valium, it's not gonna hurt, that's for sure, the more the better, just don't kill yourself). And that's it for this issue's Bill's Helpful Household Hints, check back next issue to find out how Bill gets those pesky stains out of his sheets. Actually, those would be Bill's Mother's sheets, wouldn't they? And where is dear Mom, you ask? In South Carolina, praise Jesus and all his disciples. Took her up to Lori's last Tuesday- typically, we'd had that worked out for weeks, then last Monday my mother starts- Mom: I don't want to go up to Lori's on Tuesday, they're not
going to leave until Saturday. (Left unspoken "I want to stay here
up your ass till then.") So she calls Lori and tells (not asks) her she'll have to come get her later in the week cos her "hateful brother" won't bring her up there any day but tomorrow and Lori, who usually jumps when my Mom says to, tells her the same thing her hateful brother had, if you had problems with the arrangements you should have said something sooner, I can't come get you, get over it. So Bill pays for it the next day, supposed to leave at nine cos I had some things I wanted to do when I got back, can't get my Mom out of the house till eleven, then she had to "stop by the doctor's office" to pick up a prescription- we were just there the week before, but whatever-she has no appointment but ends up seeing the doctor anyway and is in there for TWO FUCKING HOURS, we end up leaving later than I wanted to be getting back, Bill's plans for the rest of the day are fucked and that will teach him not to jump when Mama says jump, won't it? (I DOUBT IT) I doubt it as well. I'm frequently asked, here and in person, why do you put up with this shit? Well, crazy as it sounds, she's my mother and I love her. I just hate fucking living here with her SO MUCH . . . Anyway, she's down at Aline's for a month or so (her way back here is kind of up in the air at this point) and while the bat's away- (I THOUGHT THAT WAS CAT?) - yeah, well. As for the scrapyard, Phil's finished his rehab, I worked Monday and Tuesday, Phil's there the rest of the week so I'm off from the yard till next Monday. Sweet. And just for the record, I fucking hate people. But I don't hate my babies. Sarah's working hard at her langauge class there in NYC, up early and home late, she finishes the end of this month and then has a good shot at getting a job teaching English as a second language. I wish she was somewhere beside the Big Apple- not my favorite place for a number of reasons- but she seems happy there. And I'm not soliciting gifts in any way, but a LOT of you have asked for Sarah's address- FDU in their usual incompetence got the graduates their announcements a week before graduation which is why none of you got one. If you'd like to drop her a line congratulating her on her accomplishment- which again I am so damn proud of- you can reach her at- Sarah Bitner, 2910 Newtown Avenue, Astoria, New York, 11102. As for Rachie, she's working 40 hours a week in Neil's Mom's liquor store- now why can't I find a job like that?- except for last week when she went to the beach, a trip I figure the less I know about the better I'll sleep- if I slept. Not sure when Loretta and Paul will be moving Rachel's stuff to her apartment in Princeton, probably be soon though as Sarah told me Loretta and Paul have sold their house in Perry Hall and will be moving, not to DC as originally planned, but to College Park. More power to 'em, at this point it's all the same to me. Won't see either Sarah or Rachel for Father's Day, which hurts, but that's how it goes. Been saving the Father's Day present they got me last year, Batman, The Sunday Classics 1943-1946 till now, just read it and it was great, where this issue's opening comments hail from. Al is STILL alive, good gravy, Kat saw him recently and said he's doing well. Amazing. She and I went down there twice to cut his grass again, first time we got rained out so we went to Five Guys there by Pullman Square, excellent hamburgers and hand cut fries, then over to Empire Books, both times we got mocha blasts at BR, have I mentioned those things are good? And it's now three down. Went to Brainwrap Mike's wedding, very nice affair, the bride was drop dead gorgeous- damn, Mike, you did GOOD- and when he introduced me to her as Bill Bitner she said, "Oh yeah, Death Falcon Zero." Not only good looking but obviously a woman of culture and taste as well. Sat with David Bailey (Raphael in Johnny Boy) and his wife Holly during the wedding- he's got money just flying out of his ass and you'd never know it, he couldn't be a nicer guy- then with them and Brainwrap Ian and Johnny Boy himself at the reception, which was first class. Tons of food, from fancy to big metal trays of McDonald's hamburgers and cheeseburgers, a FREE BAR- only drank four, two Yuengling, two Heineken as I was driving back to Charleston, the bride and groom performed with the band- opened with "Jackson", funny. Don't know how it's going to end, but it sure started out great. Also had another MC since last issue, drank the 90 Minute IPA and some new type Harpoon and some other stuff, none of which I can remember. No one hates this memory loss thing more than I. I'd be concerned, if I got concerned. M Is For Monster is out- sort of. I talked to Danny when he got back, who came around to my way of seeing things, so he then talked to the print shop guy there at State, saying "Look, that's just how Bill is, what he said was no big deal, get over it, if you don't print these books you're going to be on my bad side, which you don't want to be, and you're also going to be on Bill's bad side, and you really don't want to be there, cos he's going to come down here and have it out with you in person . . ." So print shop guy- name's Joe- runs me off fifty copies of Monster to take to the conference, doesn't have the balls to be there when I stop by to pick them up, leaves me a bill, excuse me, an invoice, for more than the agreed on price. So I just took them. Lady at the desk is going, "Uhm sir, you're supposed to pay-" "You tell Joe I got his payment right here." Haven't heard anything since. I will certainly pay the agreed upon price- I'm no thief- but that mother fucker is not holding me up. Piece of shit computer just didn't save, and I just put my fist through the old monitor right in front of me. I HATE computers, dear God I do. Untrustworthy backstabbing pieces of shit, I hate them. I HATE THEM. What I was saying that this electronic dog's ass- hold on a second I'm gonna hit it again- didn't save was Monster should be available through Booksurge by next week for all you Internet fans, and for you locals, my copies should be here in about three weeks. I'm not going to recount the WV Writer's Conference, too drunk right now to do it justice, we'll hit it next issue with The Scourge Of Cedar Lakes, but Monster was the hit of the convention, got there with fifty, left with twenty, next highest selling book sold a whoppng nine copies, folks I've never seen in my life were coming up to me, "Will you autograph this?", of course I will. Of course I will. And to be fair, Danny- he LOVES Monster, go figure, I couldn't believe how complimentary his hypercritical (as is mine) ass was- pushing it real hard, in class and to his bud's up there, didn't hurt a bit. But the bottom line is Monster is really fucking good, say it myself, I don't care. Check it out. After what you did I can't stay on What's 8ill been reading? Re-read Supermen, that old (1936-1941) comic stuff, just crazy priceless, also Schemers, the latest Nameless Detective novel, When the Cold Wind Blows by the late (I just recently found out) Charles Grant, City Of The Dead by Sharon Stewart, not very good, Mister Tambourine Man, a biography of arguably (I'd argue it, anyway) the most talented Byrd (great band) Gene Clark, a very talented guy who was his own worst enemy, dead of drugs and alcohol at age 46 in 1991- (MUST NOT HAVE BEEN A FREAK OF FUCKING NATURE) - no, but he acted like he thought he was. And this book continues to confirm everything I've ever read about him, that David Crosby is truly a loathesome human being. And I like I told you two years ago, Steve Rogers isn't dead. Schmucks. Not you, greedy ass Marvel. I ain't no saint What's Bill listening to? Continuing to go down the CD alphabet, gone through Agent Orange (2) Davie Allen and the Arrows (3), The Allman Brothers (4)- I was never a a big fan of them back in the day but then I had a really good experience to one of their records and went out and bought some so I coud re-live it in my head- Amon Duul II (1) Animals (1)- on a good night the Tang Spoons used to just KILL "We've Got To Get Out Of This Place". Joe nailed that bass line, my vocals were strong as fuck, Loretta's back vocals spot on- April Wine (1) and Argent (4). What's Bill been drinking? Went down to Joe's Monday, drank some Yuengling, both lager and black and tan, on his dock, and smoked some cigars. Last night bought (on WVWA money) a case of Yuengling lager and ten LaBatt's big cans. Hit them hard last night, finishing them up tonight. Don't lean on me man cos you can't afford the ticket In DFZ news, Mike is killing me with his shitty booking. Had me and Jock working singles last week at the Eagles (Santana nowhere to be found), makes NO sense at all (although he at least woke up and had the sense to have a cop on site working security). It was hilarious, instead of saying "Don't touch the wrestlers" or whatever, Security Cop goes, "Anyone attacking the DeathStars will be ejected!" Hear ya. Had a terrible match with Kid Fabulous. Don't like him to start with, then he blew the only spot I gave him. I got pissed and snatched him up over my shoulder for this powerbreaker thing I've come up with (it's brutal), was about to dispatch him when Reuben, the ref- very nice guy- catches my eye and mouthes "Please don't". It woke me up, for real. Reuben was right -it's just a fucking wrestling match for gosh sakes- so I dropped KF into a tiger bomb- still tight- and pinned his sorry ass. Got a busy DFZ weekend ahead, heading to Huntington tomorrow pm to start training Johnny Boy, who I see a lot of potential in- drunk as I am this minute I'm still going to work out hard tomorrow morning, then shower, but I still may work up a good beer sweat going around with JB, hope he doesn't respond with "You reek of alcohol" or he may set off a conditioned response neither one of us will end up being too happy with. Heading up Friday to Warren, Ohio for a show, taking JB along so we can do some ring work before hand, then spending the night at Jock's. Getting up early on Saturday to drive down to Rio Grande to be there when Doug's ashes are given a lift on a rocket (God rest his soul). Then down to St. Albans for the XMCW show at Ayash at 1 pm, then up to Buckhannon for some more pre-match ringwork with JB, and an Apex main event tag, DFZ and Mike (riding my fucking coattails) against Logan and Kincaid. Don't want to end on a downer but I'm about done and I just remembered this. One of my favorite wrestler's of all time died in the ring last weekend, Mitsuhara Misawa, 46- he would have turned 47 tomorrow. In the early- mid 90's, say 91- 96, he was the best wrestler on a very strong All Japan roster, which to me says he was probably the best wrestler in the world. Tight as fuck, his moves were total solid, he'd take any goddamn bump out there- German suplexes into the turnbuckle, fucking please- he'd go twenty, thirty minutes at full speed- he was just an excellent wrestler and a tough, tough guy. He took a high angle back suplex- I hate those fuckers, even when you take them right you still come down right on the back of your head, last time someone called one on me I cut him off- "Don't think so"- and poked him in the eyes, legit- and never got up. He was still conscious after he hit, the ref asked him, "Can you move?', he said "No", then went purple. At first they were postulating a heart attack, latest word is he died from a brain/spine injury. Fuck. I hate that, I truly do. I'm out of here, WAY drunk (the computer screen is shimmering) but we'll do the The Scourge Of Cedar Lakes soon. Later Bill
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Batman:
It's a low neighborhood, full of rumpots. They're used to curious
sights, which they attribute to alcoholic delusions. 