Ghosting
It was another one of those days. Been having a lot of them recently. I just wanted to hide. My last nerve got curb-stomped by the Dropkick Murphys about a week ago. If I go to where people know me, I may react poorly and unintentionally wreck a few lives. Where can I be invisible, away from home?
I’ve heard barbershops are wonderful social gathering spots. The rinse-sink is even better. While the choppin’ and moppin’ commenced, I stared at the wall and just thought. Thought some more. I *think* I was thinking. I typically dream happier than this.
Then I looked up and saw a smiling face I hadn’t seen since forever. I feared I may never see her again. I reached, touched. Real.
Still rassling with the whole ghost or angel question. Praying for the latter.
Babylon Sisters
I want to simultaneously THANK and apologize to Walter Becker and Donald Fagen. Yer fault, guys. I’m borrowing/quoting from your catalog, unmercilessly. Yeah, thanks to you, I know what a dangling participle is. The name Rikki swings both ways.
I’ve just had the best birthday ever. This is gonna be a long, bounce-around story, but it’s all mine.
Rust Never Sleeps
But since when does it get up at 8 AM?
Like a GF’s cough or your dog’s bark, sometimes you hear a sound and just know. There’s only one Harley that makes that noise, and it’s usually captained by the best friend I don’t lust after.
Yup, Freewheelin’ pulled into my driveway this morning. Besides a hug, he had a mission to accomplish. He returned my copy of Rust Never Sleeps. I loaned it to him, oh, about fifteen years ago. The significance is not lost on me, my brother. On his 30th birthday, I took him to see Crazy Horse during the Ragged Glory tour.
It may be better to burn out than to fade away, but let’s ride slowly into the sunset, shall we?
Thanks, man.
Top Secret Clown Business cont’d…
When Clairissa asked me what I wanted to do for my birthday, a scene from House of 1,000 Corpses jumped immediately to mind. Making a booze run is common in my world, both giving and receiving. When Rufus and Baby Firefly head on down to Red Hot Pussy Liquors, the conversation went something like this:
“Welcome to Red Hot Pussy Liquors. That’s a whole lotta holy water for two people. What you gonna do with all this booze?”
In Baby Firefly’s giggly voice: “We’re gonna get fucked up and do fucked up shit. Okay with that, Goober?”
“Huck. I like to get fucked up and do fucked up shit too!”
The party started early. The clowns were calling me at 3:30 AM, so I put in my well-worn DVD copy of HOTC. It was a dark way to start the day, but when you have role models like Captain Spaulding and Shakes, top secret clown business is the order of the day.
The opening scene of HOTC is a lot like any other work night, sans body parts and clown shoes. (New Balance FYI.) Captain Spaulding is babysitting idiots when robbers show up. It’s a quirky, nonsensical play on what I expect to happen to me someday.
Which of these two lines would you prefer to hear when you walk in to a spooky joint with a sorta-friendly-lookin’ scary assed clown confronting you?
“Well, shit the bed! How ya doin’?”
Or…
(Hands up in “stick ‘em up” fashion, except with FU birds flying.) “No! Fuck your mama.”
“Fuck your Grandma!” Tension builds. “Fuck your sister.”
Crazy crap happens. Captain Spaulding takes control of the situation. Apparently blood spatter on clown shoes is a drag to clean.
Scary-Clown-Man sticks your own gun in your face and says, “But most of all, fuck YOU!” pop Pop POP. Fade to black and let the opening credits roll.
This is a public service reminder. It’s Rose Festival. Let’s get fucked up and do fucked up shit. But be nice and play fair, or scary clowns will descend.
HBD2ME. That is all.
Defenders of the Face
Ever feel like you need someone to have your back? Underwater, with no way to surface? Stuck looking a stranger in the face, then bursting into tears like a bitch because a bullet to the brain seems easier than explaining to them “Why the boo-boo face?” It’s been that kind of week, and while I didn’t expect it, I saw the biggest display of balls in years.
There’s little doubt Clairissa has my back.
Cussin’ and Sputterin’
I just spent nine goddamn hours writing a post about my weekend. In one fell swoop I erased it, and 2,000 words went south for the summer. Instead of sharing all the foul foul filth filth that wants to come out of my mouth, I will wish you a happy Memorial Day, and remind you to always hit the save button when writing something too good to lose.
Son of a bitch.
In Case of Emergency
In case of emergency, *they* say to have a radio ready at all times. Today I learned my lesson.
We have eight million (slight exaggeration) busted radios around our house. Everywhere I look there’s a ghetto blaster or a portable radio that is a distant cousin to the AMC Pacer. Busted? Most of them need a cord, or the CD player no longer works. The cord thing? People steal them from the work radio, and since I’m the one who gets pissy and antsy whenever I can’t ring up groceries to the delicate melodies of Slayer, I bring a cord from home. I had a spare in my backpack until recently, when it got in the way and I pulled it out, thinking to myself “This goddamn thing! I never use it…” I tossed it somewhere, or maybe used it for its intended purpose.
It wasn’t where I needed it to be today.
Do Me a Favor?
As I sit here listening to the Incubus song Drive, and think about how grim this time of year is for me, I look to the bright side for comfort. Sunday will be 25 years since the passing of my father. (Yeah, I know. Get over it.) He’s been gone longer than I had been alive at the time. He was an old coot, but he left his finest traits inside my mother, and most of them took. I think he’d be proud of me, if for no other reason than to know I’d never been arrested, or raped by a “hommasexual.” (He caught me hitchhiking once. It was the closest we ever came to discussing sex.)
I’ve always resented the fact that he died right before my 22nd birthday. His funeral was a couple days before, and my friends were shocked that I stayed sober on my birthday. Freewheelin’ and I went fishing at Roslyn Lake, and I had two beers all day. (That qualifies as sober in those days.) I got drunk after his funeral, and my older brother and I spoke as adults for the first time.
But enough back story. There’s a lot of dark family stuff happening right now, and I’ve made it a point to look forward on my father’s day of departure. Mizelle has done more than her share, sometimes against her better judgment. Thank you, enablers. I needed it.
I’m close to losing another deeply loved forever-long father figure. It hurts. (WHY does it always have to happen near my birthday?) When I refer to being cautiously optimistic, it’s times like these that put that theory to the test.
A few years back, I met a girl and fell in love. Her daughter happened to share the date with my father. He died, she was born. She’s rolling up on ten years old now, and she left me a comment the other day. Much like KUFO, I’m not prone to requests, but if it’s good enough, I’ll bend.
If you’re so inclined, say hi to my favorite dinosaur. But keep in mind, she’s ten, so be nice. (Her mother is much meaner than her picture suggests, but her nose is only that pointy in her mind.)
I choose to celebrate my little friend’s birth instead of my father’s passing. Her bubbly spirit is infectious, and while I miss Dad, I still have her smile and hugs in my heart.
Doesn’t that sound like reason enough to count down to a happy moment?
Mr Sluggo and the Iron Thumb
Upon arriving home the other night, I received an e-mail from a co-worker. That’s not unusual; I’m sort of an elder statesman amongst the common workers. Instead of waking one of the bosses in the middle of the night, they will ask my opinion first.
Reunited…
With no peaches, and very little herb.
Part of my weekend was great, the other not so much. Had some major family drama come down, and with the hot weather my sociable attitude went on the lam. I stayed home in front of the fans, talking on the phone and running damage control.
The upside? I contacted some of my favorite people, and they called back! Read the rest of this entry »
