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9/21/02 I'm Free I'm free Oh my God, do I feel wonderful. I'm officially, totally, unemployed. There was some talk there last weekend about backsliding, but fortunately it came for naught, and I'm gone. Holy fuck. Monday morning- or pm in some of your cases- when the rest of you poor working stiff bastards are getting up to go give up your precious, irreplaceable time to THE MAN, I'll be sound fucking asleep. Paychecks? I laugh at your paychecks. I'M FREE. If I told you what it takes to reach the highest high Man, I'm serious, I can't believe how fucking liberated I feel. I got a bunch of phone calls Friday from people who heard I was leaving, saying they were sorry to hear it, very nice, actually, I also got two job offers, won't try to say I didn't find it flattering, because I did. One of the places, I wouldn't work if you held a gun to my head, the other . . . maybe, but I told them I wasn't interested in working ANYWHERE until at least after the first of the year. The prospect of a really good job I mentioned last issue also called me Friday wanting to make sure I was still interested, I said sure, but, again, not until after the first of the year, I need a fucking break. What's Bill drinking? What do you think? It's Saturday night, I just quit my job, and there hasn't been a sober one of these for months. Budweiser, but don't worry, I'm not using this time off to go back down the road to drunken, imbecilic slackerdom- I mean, I would, but I been there, done that, got better things to do now. In fact, you wait, now that I can sleep till noon and finally get some rest, I'm gonna up my lift ticket even more, it's going to be SO fucking wonderful to work out when I'm not so fucking exhausted I'm wobbly before I even start. What's Bill been doing? Went to Jason's party last weekend, had a good time, more subdued this year- both me and the party- very nice to see Chris K and Mark again, I enjoy your company very much, wish you guys lived closer so I could see more of you. Chris K handed everyone their ass in 80's music- yeah, I know, that's an oxymoron- trivia, but I came in second in something, won a glow in the dark Jason hockey mask. Look out. What's Bill listening to? This CD Mark gave me at the party. I can't remember if he said it was him and a guy on keyboards, or just him, on keyboards- hey, I didn't walk through any screen doors this year, but it's not like I was dry or anything. Dude, I really like it. My favorites are #2, this country gospel thing, I had no idea you had it in you, and the instrumentals #'s 3, 4 and 9. Joe, I'll bring it down next time I come over. Bad news about the DC Direct posters, stopped by Comic World Thursday to have Greg order them for me- and there's a sign on the door- "See us at our Huntington store- thanks for 17 great years- Kathleen Miller." I just fucking cringed. I didn't know Greg, who ran the place, real, real well, but I have known him a long time, since he first opened in Nitro in '81, believe it or not Ms. Sophisticate herself used to read and enjoy comics- and even when I quit buying comics about '89- too fucking expensive, and exploitative, they weren't interested in entertaining anymore, just taking your stupid fanboy bucks with all this crossover, special edition this and that shit, so I opted out- I'd still stop in and see him a couple times a year, hang and shoot the shit for a while, he was a nice guy, who could tell- and appreciate- a funny story, in fact, Joe, he came and saw the Tang Spoons once at the Cold Spot, said he thought we were hilarious, not exactly the response I was looking for, but hell, he enjoyed the show. Through talking to him over the years I found out he and I got married within a week of one another in '79, and I stopped in there maybe a month or so after Loretta told me I'm divorcing yer shitty ass, and the first thing he tells me is that his wife Kathleen, out of the fucking blue- at least I saw mine coming- had told him they were through, get out of the damn house. How weird. Seriously, how damn weird. Last time I was in there was in January of this year, right before I started working in Beckley, and they were still fighting it out, apparently she was all out to gut his ass, the deal at that time was that Greg would keep the Charleston store, Kathleen would get the one in Huntington. So, I don't know the details, but his ass is shut down in Charleston, and she's shunting his business to her place in Huntington. Shit. One time during the past couple years when we were discussing his situation, I said I was surprised Kathleen was being like this, she always seemed nice to me (My own circumstances should've shown me what a stupid thing that was to say- "Loretta did WHAT? No way." "Fucking WAY.") and Greg told me that Kathleen never liked me. Why the hell not? I asked. She thought you were a smart ass. Holy shit. I always just came in, bought my comics, hung out for a few talking to Greg, then left, I bet I never said more than, hi, how are you? to her ever, and the bitch STILL calls me a smart ass. What, do I wear a fucking sign, or something? Jesus. Tom, send me your class schedule, I'll be coming to Huntington one day this week, we'll go grab something to eat (you really ought to pay, seeing how you're working, and I'm not) and run by Huntington Comic World. Call me a fucking smart ass, will she? Actually, I just want my damn posters. And you know, that midlife, goddamn, I'm outta here, bullshit nonsense, knows no sex. Stopped in the juvenile probation office this week as well, trying to get a line on Anne Hudson, which I did, more on that later, Keith wasn't in, Angie wasn't in, was told Thorne didn't work there anymore (what?), Smoot was there- goofy motherfucker, but actually an excellent probation officer, wrote the best pre-sentence reports I've ever seen, hung out with him for a while, he told me John (Thorne) went fucking insane about 2 years ago- again, the summer of 2000, what the FUCK was going on then, leave your spouse sunspots?- left his wife- she went to school with and graduated with Loretta, Thorne was older than her, younger than me, so we're not talking kids here, they were married in '84 when I met him- quit his job at probation- we're talking a good damn job here, and again, one he'd had at least since '84 when I met him- he had a son, John Jr. about Rachel's age, that I'd thought he was devoted as hell to, go fucking figure, gave up all custody of him and moved to Georgia to live with this woman he MET ON THE FUCKING INTERNET, dear God Jesus preserve me from this Internet romance crap the fuckola, with one very prominent exception I can think of, THAT TRICK NEVER WORKS. He was down there for about a year, it didn't work out, he's back in the area now, his wife and kid hate him- no shit, I like you, Thorne, but you FUCKED UP- working at like K-Mart or somewhere. What a fucking waste. Kat, had you heard any of this? As for Anne, found out from Smoot, she's still in the area, working at that state complex there at the Diamond, stopped by- Thursday? I think- to see if she wanted to go to lunch, after almost getting into a fight with the stupid security jocks they got working there finally got the word that she was out for the day- why the fuck should that be classified information?- gonna stop back by Monday after going by the unemployment office- free money, fuck it, if they'll give it, I'll take it- see if she wants to have lunch. For a start. Anne always fucking liked me. Time to see if she'd like fucking me. (Sorry.) Finished "Resurrection Day", it faded some before it was through, but it was still good. You can check it out through the Kanawha Co. library. Thought the author, Brendan Dubois, might be a new find, checked out one of his mystery novels. Oh dear. Generic book shit. Besides a not too believable plot, his people all talk in "book speak". I hate that shit, no one talks that way except in BOOKS. Also finished the Muddy Waters book. There's this anecdote in there, about this rich shit who brought his kid backstage somewhere to see Muddy, and the kid wanted an autograph. The boy produced a bar napkin. Muddy looked at the napkin, then at the kid, and pronounced, "That's a mighty shitty piece of paper you got there." For some reason that cracks me the hell up. Not reading anything right now. Too busy writing my own. Gonna send out the first chapter of Drains to those of you who've asked for it, Joe, if you could stop by Tuesday, or else just e-mail me how to get something out- never mind, Sarah just told me she knows how to do it, so probably tomorrow, or Monday at the latest, look for the first chapter of Drains. I'm only sending it out to those who've asked for it, so if you want it, ask, it's yours, otherwise, I won't bother you with it.
Okay, its- Bought some CD racks this week, gonna get 'em out of the closet and where I can get to them easy, bought 2 that hold 75 each, knew that wouldn't hold everything, but shit- 150 CDs and we're still in the D's. Better buy some more racks. Found that I had a bunch of CDs missing, maybe 20 or so- whoever took them, because I do think they were took, shit, what else could've happened, they're not here, not in my car- had a classic rock bent - Cream, Doors, Who, and worse, Bo Diddley. This never would have occurred to me, even though they were in that big huge walk in closet in Sarah's room, until I'm pissed and going "Where are my damn CDs!" and Sarah says "None of my friends took them". I would hope not, the only kids I let her bring out her are the ones I like. Still, the fact that she said that . . .
She asked, would I care if she laid another guy? In reference to last issue's champagne and eggs stomach churn, Ron says he sometimes puts a splash of champagne IN his scrambled eggs (pre cooking, of course). Ron, I've always known you were a better man than me, and this just proves it. He also said in reference to last issue's young Bill photo/rant, that's the Bill he remembers. That gets to me. You know, a lot of times I feel like Steve McQueen at the end of "The Sand Pebbles" (excellent movie), lying there gut shot and screaming "What the hell happened?" Chris sent an e-mail about Fireball XL-5, I was never real big on
that marionette stuff, in fact, they sort of creep me out, (but not
nearly as much as that sick ass Japanese porno anime, Christ almighty,
if you want to watch cartoons fucking I guess that's you're business,
but it makes my fucking skin crawl) although I will certainly agree it's
way better than this new shit, I liked Stingray, never much cared for
Thunderbirds, liked Captain Scarlet (and the Mysterions) best of all. As
for the Max Fleischer Supermans, by all means bring them to the next
Movie Club, been looking for them myself ever since I heard they were on
DVD, where'd you find them? Dave. Let's go fishing. As for the boat rides promised last issue, The Retro Queen (don't know what her official name is, that's what I call her) is back in dry dock, and NO, I didn't have anything to do with it, it's this damn insidious oil leak it had long before I ever took the helm- probably long before I ever laid eyes on her, in fact. People been asking for more stories about my dad. Just a brief one, here, to close with . . That talk last issue about amtracks reminds me of a time, four or five years ago, my dad did volunteer work for the Collis P. Huntington Society, who run the scenic train trips down the New River in the fall, and he roped me into helping him. You had to know this was a doomed endeavor from the start, Bill and his dad working side by side behind the concession counter, particularly since my dad is one of those persons, if you're alone with him in a building with 7 million square feet in it, he's going to occupy the 2 right next to you, so you can imagine- B: Get the fuck off me. We almost didn't make it there at all, we had to leave the house at 5:00 am to be at the train station in Huntington by 6:00, dressed alike in our CPH regulation dark blue pants, blue shirts and black ties, oh we were cute, I refused to wear the blazer, sorry- I went berserk behind the counter later in the day when I found out we could have caught the train at 8:00 in St. Albans- D: Yeah, but then we wouldn't get to ride all the way from Huntington
and back. Me and early morning are not friends, so we get on the Interstate there at Cross Lanes and I decide I'm going to recline my seat and take a nap. My dad's car had this weird ass control panel thing between the seats and I'm trying to get the son of a bitch to work- D: Hey. I look over and my dad's laying flat on his back, ready for lift off, his car seat fully reclined- still driving the car. D: What do you think I am, some kind of goddamn astronaut? Later in the day some biddy that had been chatting up my dad at the other end of the counter comes to my side- Biddy: And are you Raleigh's son? And so I am. Later. Bill
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Along those lines, gonna send out some literary scans- a couple of
the female folk have asked about them, again, how flattering, okay, some
bare-chested photos of the Death Falcon soon, I swear- of covers of
magazines that had stories of mine in them. The Space and Time cover was
drawn by Brent Anderson, who went on to become a pro, The Dark Fantasy
deal absolutely breaks my heart, Gene Day put it out, he was this
incredibly talented Canadian guy, loved my stuff, bought 6 stories from
me in the 70's, in the early 80's he was drawing for Marvel, their Star
Wars and Master Of Kung Fu comics, also doing his own music thing, he
sent me a tape that I hate myself for losing, sort of like the Rolling
Stones with heavy electronic backing shit, very, very good stuff, he
sent me a letter in '82 saying he was sick of Marvel's shit and was well
enough off financially that he was going to start his own independent
line, and would I work up a comic outline for him, with me writing and
him drawing? Fucking would I? Wrote what I thought was this great
proposal for this super hero team, set in the '50's, called Rocket USA,
the heroes being Eddie, Gene, Buddy, and Elvis (yeah, them). Didn't hear
back, and didn't hear back, started to get paranoid, then I pick up a
Comic Scene and see Gene's damn obituary, he died in his fucking sleep
of a heart attack at 31. God bless it.
By the way, for those of you who get this direct, check out the
website, Joe does a really good job of integrating the scanned pictures,
bringing in other relevant ones, putting in links- what is the website?
Fuck if I know, hold on.
Like the criminally under appreciated Nils Lofgren sang in "Moon
Tears"-
