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7/28/02 Scanners Live In Vain Hey Fucking hell. (I ought to just leave it at this, and sign off, cos that pretty much says all I wan to say, but I feel compelled to elaborate- what the fuck else is new?) I hate technology, swear to Christ, and it hates me just as strongly. Again, what else is new. Gonna hook up my new scanner today (spent HOURS rearranging the entire house to accommodate the new desk thing which is also holding my new printer, and by the way, thanks again Dave for the scanner), gonna scan in some pictures of the Death Falcon in action that I just acquired this weekend, I'm thinking, yeah, great timing, and send them out with this H&B, all fired up for it- and it don't work. Not going into details- it's not the scanner, though, it's the computer- except to say, Joe, get out here, man, soon as you can. I'm really pissed. Got a picture of DF0 putting the Oxygen Destroyer on Punkazz I want to share with the world. What's Bill drinking? Well, even with all the provocation, just green tea, dears, been just green tea and water for 8 days straight now, not any big shakes even for a dedicated alcohol abuser like myself, but still, it ain't shit, either. What's Bill listening to? Just some old shit I don't feel like preaching on right now. Well, okay, a little, I'm listening to Agent Orange, their live album, fucking great, actually, I still think of this shit as contemporary when hell, it's 11 years old. I would really like to be able to talk about some genuinely contemporary stuff in a positive way, only new CD I bought lately was And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead, love the name, I can listen to 'em without any real problem, I just can't remember anything about 'em once the CD's over. What's Bill eating? Lots. Still trying to drive the weight up. Rachel and I went out to dinner with Joe and Laura Friday before we went to see Sarah in The Wall, I had something different. Tuna. Ha. I'm sure I eat 3 or 4 of those enormous bastards every year, a can at a time. This was grilled tuna steak, which I fix pretty often at home, this was fucking excellent, got it at Chili's, tequila lime, lots of places do a good one, Tidewater does as well, though if I'd know Joe was picking up the tab I'd have ordered filet. Ate a pint of B & J Banana Fudge Chunk after I got home. Wonderful. I enjoyed The Wall, the band did a good job (although, for all their out there rep, most Pink Floyd is actually pretty easy to play), Sarah got to play a thug, put the boot in with real authority, that's my girl. Up next- Romeo and Juliet. Saw Big Daddy and family in the mall before we ate, don't want to wear it out, but damn, Jason, you've got a cute kid. Michelle's not looking too bad herself, but we'll leave that alone. Jason invited me out to the Pink Pony a couple Monday's ago, or tried to, he couldn't get through on this horrible piece of shit phone service I've got. Just as well. I never minded a trip to the strip clubs in the old days, but that was when I had someone to come home to, to work out on, afterward. And while I'm thinking about it, without going into detail, the best strip shows I ever saw in my fucking life were in my own bedroom, guys, I'm telling you, if you're not going there, you're missing out, and if they want some in return, do it, fair's fucking fair. The second best stripper I've ever seen in my life was the ungodly delectable Amber Delaney, this red haired goddess who used to work The Outhouse Inn in the late 70's, early 80's. She was beautiful, I mean head to fucking toe, BEAUTIFUL, danced like a dream, and used to cover her butt in whipped cream and let the guys in the front row (I was never so lucky) lick it off. There's guys getting this know whereof I speak (hey, Doug). I know I go on a lot about old being better than new, but I swear it's the truth. Broke down one night while I was still working in Beckley, I was spending the night and my original plans for the evening had fallen through, so I went up to Southern Xposure, the big strip club down there. Christ. The girls were all from that modern, "pretend you're at your gynecologist" school of supposed dancing, shit, they didn't dance, they all flopped on their fucking backs, spread, then fucking spread again, if you get what I'm saying, and showed me their fucking spleens, the hard way. Thanks anyway, you know, but how erotic is that? If you're not JACK THE GODDAMN RIPPER, I'd say none. And when you can see more yeast in the dancer than in your beer . . . Todd, who used to be a CCIL nurse until 1/02, used to wear me out, wanting to go to the "titty bars," I mean, constantly, but I never would fucking go with him. First off, Todd was easily the most boring fucker I've ever encountered. In the 2 years I knew him, he only said, like, five things. He just kept saying them over and over and over . . . I'm serious, some CCIL sucker back me on this. Also, even though I know it's perfectly acceptable WV vernacular, hearing a grown man say "titty" creeps my ass out. What the hell else has been up? Well, at least some of you got the "Bill And His Boiling Dad" essay I sent out the other night. It was a middle of the night first draft, probably should've held onto it and tightened it up a bit, but what the hell. Ugly night, I was getting ready to go to bed, doing that distracted Bill thing, grabbed up what I thought was my vitamin bottle, slammed a couple, did something, got distracted again, came back, couldn't remember if I'd taken my vitamins or not, figured what the fuck, a couple extra vitamins can't hurt, throw a couple more down, Sarah goes, "Daddy, should you be taking so many of those?", I go, "They're just vita- oh, fuck." Kept grabbing up the wrong bottle, kept eating Xenadrine. Goes without saying, I was up all night. "Drains" is at about 17,000 words, and climbing, and this is some GREAT shit. The original outline looks like it's gonna come out a little short, maybe 50,000 words, I'm not sweating it, figure I can add a couple more scenes early of hellish bloodshed in the sewers, and another sex scene later between Wilhelm (how transparent is that) and his "doll", and it'll be fine. Although as I actually, finally, go about the process of getting this out of my head and onto paper, do I realize how totally fucking grim this tale is. Can you say, everyone dies? Keep watching Lucha Libre, still absolutely love it. I've been watching wrestling for pushing 40 years, I still see something almost every weekend from these guys I've never seen before. The guy I've been calling a Badass Space Bat is actually Abismo Negro- what's that, Black Abyss? Best outfit ever, bar none. Fucking despise the WWE, there's no fucking way I can watch cocksucking jerkoffs like Brock Lesnar after watching AAA. I swear, I'm on the verge of buying my own ring and starting my own league. Call it BGFWL (figure it out, it's not hard), do the real fucking shit, best of Mexico and Japan with some American hardcore stuff. And run it in Nitro, to 50 people a pop. Yeah, right. I can't tell you anything you don't already know But I try Bill
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