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9/2/03 Piece of Crap Saw it on the tube Hey Feels like I just did one of these, even though it's been a week, I guess cos I've been letting two weeks and more go by between issues lately. Gonna try and get through this one with a minimum of bitching and whining and avoidance of the L-word . . .
Okay, that's not gonna work. What's Bill been up to? Today (Monday, I mean), puking my fucking guts out. That's not an exaggeration, these were those nasty heaves that stay with you long after you've emptied your stomach of food, so you wretch and wrench like hell to bring up a couple curdled hacks of foamy bile. You think, "Man, that's gotta be it" . . . then half hour later you're doing it again. Why am I hurling like this? No fucking idea. I was going out the door this morning to go see Doug and Rosa's oldest son, Alex (as I've said here before, very nice kid, like him a lot), play a St. Albans JV game in South Charleston, then hang out with Doug and make beer this afternoon, I get halfway up the hill to my car, when SPLAT, I puke a big gob of the Cheerios and milk I'd just eaten right down my chest, no more warning than that, and it was all downhill from there. Too gross for you? Sorry, you should've been here. So what's Bill drinking? Ginger ale, and praying it stays down, I'm about puked out. During my drunken shopping a while back I picked up a case of Kroger ginger ale, along with a case of Diet Dr. K (what the HELL was I thinking), and among (many) other things, about 8 pounds of cheese, some sort of cream pie, I'm not sure what type exactly cos it was all over the kitchen the next morning and I never did find the container it came in, I swear to God I think I had a pie fight with myself, about six bottles of vitamins, and three boxes of condoms. Optimistic bastard. People been asking me how the girls are, well, you know what, I really don't know. Talked to them briefly last Tuesday, Rachel had a good first day at school, Sarah had a shitty one, some guys were cracking on her for being from West Virginia ("Yee Haw", how original), her response was "Fuck you, too", talked again to Sarah for like a minute Wednesday, she said it was another bad day but the cell phone cut out . . . and I haven't heard from them since. They haven't called me, I've called the cell there every day to no answer or response. Why? Once again, beats the fuck outta me. I need to get the actual phone number there at the house from them- L-word doesn't want me to have it for some reason, oh yeah, maybe cos she's a BITCH. Gonna stop that L-word nonsense, cos I hate that kind of stuff, nigger is an ugly and offensive word but I think "The N-Word" is about a thousand times more offensive, it just goes right up my back, what an idiotic expression, just got done reading this space opera thing, can't remember the title, it had "March" in it, it was one of those Weber/Ringo things, and in it the characters keep saying "pocking" which drove me about half nuts, either say fuck or say dang it, but don't come up with some cutesy poo faux cuss words, okay? (FUCKING OKAY BY ME). Man, ANOTHER ONE done gone from the class of '74, this time Randy Adkins, from our old home room, Joe. Don't want you to think I'm morbidly scanning the obits cos I very, very seldom look at them, my mom caught this one day last week while I was out there, his obit mentioned he'd graduated with us, in fact, I think that's what it said, "Randy was fortunate enough to have graduated with Bill Bitner and that guy who never spoke that no one can remember his name". Randy wasn't a big drug guy at all, which sort of shoots my druggie theory in the foot, didn't say how he died, just that short illness shit, but hell, he was only 47, I'm still safe at 46, but you older guys better watch your asses. I tried to plug it in What else has Bill been up to? Rosa, God love her heart, drug my useless ass out last week and made me get my Criminal Background shit finished, and got me joined up with Something About Exceptional Children, and got me all insured, so now here I am, three hundred bucks poorer, but will soon be able to rejoin the ranks of the gainfully employed with Birth To Three. Wait a minute, what the hell am I THANKING HER FOR? DANG YOU, ROSA.
We drank some Red Hook something, and some Bass Ale, and some Newcastle (which I brought and cost me a jaw dropping $9 for 6, though you'd pay that in a bar for some hellish Coorsish swill) and Ron brought some sweety Sam Adams Weiss Beer. No one got pounded at all, nothing like the extreme and extended drunken good time we had the day of the WVU bowl game, Chris was still jet lagged, I was being Exhausto Boy (from LSH 2/65), and even Ron was very subdued, I don't know, he must've just been tired from being Ron. Still a good day, I enjoy like hell hanging with those (old) guys. Chris and Deb had a good, if hot and dehydrating, time in Okinawa (you only piss twice in two weeks, you're DRY) took some great pictures, if I get some money I'm convinced I need to get a digital camera. Come in handy if I get a saucy girlfriend, too.
And again about the 9/26 show, I hope like hell a lot of you are planning to attend, if so, we can do this on a individual basis, but you need to get your tickets from me, I've still got 10 ringside and 20 general admission (which is still assigned seating, these are -relatively- close), Bob snagged some good seats and passed along some of them to me, this thing has already sold 200 seats, what you get from me will be tons better than what you'll get from the box office- I got 4th row ringside, the best the BO can get you is 8th, if that, Bob was telling me ringside is already almost sold out, and how cool is that, the DF is gonna fucking TEAR IT UP in front of all these people). We'll talk later, call me. Reading? Up to page 480 out of 740 (text) on the Neil Young biography, he's an interesting guy, pretty much like I'd pictured him, very stubborn and go his own way-ish, doesn't really seem like he'd be a lot of fun to hang out with, but that's all right, there's a lotta funny stories and one liners in here, enjoying the read quite a bit, and it confirms what I already knew, that Crosby and Stills, and to a lesser extent, Nash, are total shitholes. And you gotta love old Neil's attitude- Q: Would you like to go to outer space? A: If I knew I was going all the way. I'm not going to no fucking MOON . . . I hear ya.
Thought she was my friend Watched the Godzilla movies on SciFi Sunday, did you? They're doing that damn revisionist thing they started a while back, where each new Godzilla movie is like the first one, I don't really like that at all, they keep messing with canon and screwing things up. In G Vs. Mechaguirus, far the better of the two, G destroyed Tokyo in '54 so the new capital of Japan is Osaka which I thought was sort of neat, MG was a pretty cool monster, they've scrapped the G-Force of the movies between G Vs. Biollante (good movie, I got it if you want to watch it) and G Vs. Desteroyah- love that name, got it too, by the way- and there's this new Godzilla fighting force that, using some weird, other world physics, came up with the Dimension Tide- these are the people that call a choke slam, Ruby Erosion, or a running knee, Shining Wizard- that's gonna create a mini-Black Hole and suck Godzilla up in it. Ah well, the best laid plans of mice and Japs . . The second movie, just called Godzilla, King Ghidorah, Mothra, also has goofy looking Baragon (haven't seen his floppy eared ass in ages) and KG as GOOD GUYS, along with Mothra, against Godzilla, who now represents Japan's collective guilt over the shit they pulled in WW II given murderous flesh and sent to run amok on their asses. WHAT?!? No, No, NO! G is a giant atomic dinosaur, period. King Ghidorah has been pure fucking evil from Space Hunter Nebula M (which is where I think I'm gonna start having the DF announced from) since his Monster Zero days, now he's some Earth Spirit come to defend us from hellhound Godzilla? I don't fucking think so. Just a terrible concept, how the hell this idea ever got script approval if beyond me, it's just HORRIBLE. As for Godzilla himself, they still keep changing the suit, VS MG he has that flattened, toothy amphibian looking head, what I call the Frogacuda head, G, KG, M he's got more of a T. Rex look going, with these bizarre, milky dead eyes, like Zombiezilla or something, I didn't care for it. Hold on. God bless it. So much for the ginger ale. I need to get Joe back out here to show me how to do some stuff on this damnable computer, so I don't have to keep bugging him to do it, and I won't have to wait for him to come out every time I want to do something. I just HATE fooling with this shit . . . Sequential thinking is just not my strong suit. Joe sits down to put something together- "Part A fits to Part B to Part C to Part D to Part E. Done." Bill sits down to put something together- "Let's see, whatta we got here . . . looks like parts . . . boy, I sure hope the Martians don't attack tonight . . . Part A goes to . . . Part B, okay . . . that Kay Lyons sure was good looking, God, was she built . . . Part B goes to . . . wonder what ma's having for dinner . . . Part C? . . . maybe . . . there she was, just a walking down the street, singing, do wah diddy diddy . . . if I was Mekkano, the Mechanical Brained Boy from the August 1964 issue of Legion Of Super Heroes, I could put this right together . . . now Part E . . . doesn't seem to want to . . . go in there, you whore . . . ow . . . beer . . . that doesn't look right . . . that doesn't look right AT ALL . . . DAMMIT. JOE!
Like this one. Dreamed I woke up all disoriented, which made it uncomfortably realistic, cos I do that a lot in real life, I sit up and I'm on this slab in a morgue, there's this guy raising up at the same time I am on this slab next to me, I look over- and it's me. Don't know who I was in this dream, but the other guy, who I'll call Bill, was me. It became apparent pretty quickly that we'd both been autopsied- Bill, the appalling bastard, keeps lifting the top of his fucking skull up going, "Look, no brain!", he's got this horrible huge T-shaped wound on his chest and stomach that's just barely being held closed by these stitches, big black thread, his mighty chest and abs all sunken and flaccid cos there's nothing inside him anymore, he's all pissed off, "Look what they fucking did to me!", I'm a little more concerned with how we're up and walking around, if I'm dead I want to- go away, I don't want to still be here, mutilated and eviscerated, I keep trying to get Bill to calm down, "Look, something's very wrong here, we shouldn't be up walking around all dead and gutted like this". I know the other shoe hasn't dropped, SOME kind of shit is still coming our way or we wouldn't be like this, and I'm just wanting to go to Heaven, or more realistically, Oblivion, which to me sounds much better, I don't want no fucking wings, don't want no fucking harp, once I'm done I just want to be fucking DONE, when- -we hear a door open, and this thing that looks sort of like a bear, but not really, comes into the morgue, and it's wearing this maroon velour shirt like I had when I was a kid, with a short sleeve white lab coat over top that, holding a clipboard, got these red eyes glowing back there in the hair all over its face, and it says, "You two weren't very good when you were alive, were you?" I'm shitting bricks, Bill's like, "What's it TO YA?", I'm saying, "No, no, no, don't talk like that," Bill, true to character, I guess, is being totally obnoxious, "FUCK his hairy ass, I'm already dead, what the FUCK'S he gonna do to ME?" oh, I don't know, I think, cos I'm scared to say it out loud, how about DRAG YOUR ASS DOWN TO HELL, I mean, LOOK at this thing, will you just SHUT UP. And even though I didn't say it out loud this thing knew somehow anyway, cos it looks at me and says, "You got it." I whip around and start running, I've seen enough, behind me I hear Bill start cussing, and then start screaming, and then I wake up, thinking, man, I'm glad I sleep in the daytime cos I'm pretty creeped out right now.
I remember the good old days Hmm. Guess they were a lot like these days. You all start thinking up good names for a kid, cos with these damn stomach cramps I'm having, I think I'm about to give birth. And fuck that getting a job shit, if I survive this I'm about to be famous. I went back to the store Later Bill
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Went over to Chris's Saturday, his- started to say
brother in law, he's Debbie's brother in law, George, was there, hell
of a nice guy, always liked him, Ron came over later in the day, we
watched the WVU and Marshall games, and Die Another Day (we need to
have a full Movie Club up there soon, Chris) and Chris and I watched
some Fireball XL5 (wonderful) and Captain Scarlet (the one we watched
wasn't the best). Love to borrow them sometime, gotta get a new DVD
player, my old bust one's still in the creek out back as far as I
know, less'n the high water took her, I'm gonna learn that croony
Fireball XL5 theme song and put a version on the Infernex, sing it at
the next Movie Club, even. And if I ever have occasion to wrestle
again without the mask, I'm going out as Steve Zodiac.
As for wrestling, I was checking out the
I like a lot of Neil's music, got quite a few of his
CD's, also some records, combine those with the NY records I inherited
from Dave, got easily 90% of his officially released stuff, including
the excellent 3 record retrospective, Decade, which Loretta got me for
my 21st birthday, our first semester living together at Fairmont, I
remember it like it was last week, honestly, for all the (well
deserved) shit I bag on her now, Loretta used to be so goddamn good to
me, she took the time and had the loving interest to fucking KNOW me,
so she was always buying me these great presents that I'd never asked
for, and they were PERFECT, the thought and care she put into doing
things for me were just fucking magic at the time, made me feel
goddamn special, it did, pity how it ended -Neil can write a song, I
also like that wiry kind of lead stuff he does, not really in love
with his vocal yowl, but it doesn't really put me off either, regular
readers (as well as anyone who ever saw us perform) know I like to
have fun cracking on Joe about his (Joe's) singing, how we always gave
him the lousy singer songs- Dylan, Reed, Young- to do, but actually,
within his range, Joe's a pretty good singer, he does a real good
version of "Powderfinger" (Shelter me from the powder and
the finger/Think of me as one you never figured/Would fade away so
young/With so much left undone . . . pretty moving stuff). It's that
range thing you have to watch. To put it in some sort of perspective,
I can walk down to the corner, Joe has to stay in his own yard. Roy
Orbison can go to fucking Cleveland if he wants.
Some people seemed to think the Elvis/Nelson M dream
from last issue was some sort of joke. No, boys and girls, it was a
real dream. You think I could come up with shit like that awake? In
fact, kind of surprisingly, to me, anyway, I got some requests to make
the dream thing a regular feature of this rag, well, there are no
regular features cos that would get boring, for me and you both, I
just type whatever comes to my little mind and then send it out on
these wonderful, magical computer beams, or however this shit gets
from here to there, but I don't mind passing along a dream when it
sticks in my head . . .
Everyone reading this needs to send me a bottle of
tequila, I'm serious, Cuervo 1800, I need it bad, if you don't have my
home address, write me and I'll send it to you.
