Animosity
04.30.06 (10:28 pm) [edit]"Main Entry: an·i·mos·i·ty Pronunciation: "a-n&-'mä-s&-tE Function: noun Inflected Form(s): plural -ties Etymology: Middle English animosite, from Middle French or Late Latin; Middle French animosité, from Late Latin animositat-, animositas, from Latin animosus spirited, from animus : ill will or resentment tending toward active hostility : an antagonistic attitude synonym see ENMITY" - from Merriam-Webster
If you look up "happiness" in Webster's dictionary / You would find / That it is defined / as / Lucky / Fortunate / Contented with one's lot / Glad / Or pleased?
If you were to look up "unhappy" in Webster's dictionary / You would find / That it is defined as / Not happy / Miserable / Causing misfortune / Unsuccessful / Disastrous.
I say if it's four a.m. and you're looking up either of these words, you're in a little bit of trouble either way, my friend." - Bruce McCulloch
When am I going to learn to let go?
Love (but not nearly enough right at this moment),
Dougie
I'm Drunk And I'm Not going to Fix My Typos
04.30.06 (9:33 pm) [edit]The Pixies are drilling Doolittle into my brain. Fuck, what an album.
I left Katie with her mother at the Cincinnati airport two and a half hours ago. she slept for over an hour, and I had to repeatedly tap her on the knee from the frotn seat and yell "Katie! We're at the airport!" to wake her up. Took 20 minutes. Littiel booger was GONE. Finally, she started into "Airpot! airpot! Airport! Aiport! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Nommy!"
She sat on my lap as we waited for them to show up. Finally Sheryl and Sean were there, but it was heart-chewing to sit there and feel Katie's emotions dripping through the way she leaned into me. she wanted to hang onto me, she seemed totally unwilling to let go, but she wanted to be with Mommy too. At one point (we were only there less than 20 minutes before they showed up) she said "It's taking too long for Mommy to get here" as she snuggled closer into me.
I think Katie is far more prepared for true emotional complexity at age 5 than I still am at 36. As much as it hurts ot say goodbye, as much as it hurts to be apart from her most of the wweek, I know she's learning thigns now I should have learned three decades ago myself.
We drove to two Egg albums. The Civil Surface and Polite Force. Katie played with her dolls as Dave Stewart wrenched ungodly proggish noises from his organ. I somehow made it home fine, but the drive down there was pure hell, and I kept turning the Egg louder and louder to keep myself awake. Katie didn't complain once.
Sounds like a hell of a weekend was had in SoCal by Sheryl and Sean. He had on a Dog t-shirt, so if I had any doubts before, I know he's cool now. For a while, I thought about the summer of 2000, sheryl and I going to San diego for nonkerstock, sitting maybe 40-feet from keneally as he rpped the sky apart during Kedgeree, and I was sad. for a moment. Then I remembered why it's all good.
I drove home from the aiport with a Brand X bootleg from the Roxy in LA from 1979. Ahhh, Phil Collins bak when he had testicles. As big as fucking watermelons.
When the tape ended (filled out with selections from Inner Mounting Flmae by the Maha-fucking-vishnu Orchestra) I turned on the local high school radio station. This is about three miles from me, and can barely be heard more than 10 miles away. It's mostly 80s shit, but they don't follow much of a real format, and sometimes surprise me with a genuinely cool tune.
Of course, I probably only really listen to it becuase 2/3rds of the people running it are high school girls with nice voices. God, i'm a sick fuck. By the way, this is what wakes nme up every morning.
A great friend - probably the best friend I've had in the past year - is going to be a father probably within the next week. I've tried to be a helpful source of semi-adivce, but I moslty just hope he gets through this in one emotional piece. I love ya, man. call me if you need me.
i love the fucking Pixies. She told me that once back befoe she decided not to write anymore. Dammit, I miss her.
Saw Amanda today. I hand't planned on goign bak, but me and Katie had lunch there on the way back from Marion. She had an even brighter verion of The Smile, and I was reduced to staring at my coffee trying to think of something NON_STUPID to say. I couldnt' think of anything. But I told her we recorded the gig Firday (too bad we didn't record Saturday, whenit was really GOOD) and I'll have A CD for her soon. I'll probably fill it out with songs meant for her. Dammit, I want to win this woman over. I finally feel totallyu in one piece about this, totally in the right place. I want you, Amanda. Everyone else is a mere fucking distraction. The goal is clear now. Amanda. Only Amanda.
Steel Reserve numbing my brain. I need to be awak ein just over six hours. goodn ight, you fkccers.
Love,
Dougie
I Call That A Bargain, The Best I Ever Had
04.30.06 (2:24 am) [edit]Much more fun gig tonight. It was some kind of special event, and the place was packed for most of the night. Even the last hour (when it's normally dead at this place) had quite a few people up dancing. Older people, we leaned into the oldies material, but we hit the grooves better than usual. Stronger, but more relaxed. I've caught myself being fairly heavy-handed more often lately (Me?? Never!) but tonight I was more laid-back, and we all had a hell of a good time.
I hadn't even played the damn thing at all in two months, but for my solo spot I whipped out Chuck Berry's Maybelline, for the first time onstage. I chumped a couple lyrics, and my guitar tone was SHIT ON A RANCID FUCKSTICK, but it was fien enough. I think half the audience was off changing their Depends at that point anyway.
A VERY drunk woman, probably in her 60s, came up to me after the gig raving about how good we were, how she'd seen us a couple weeks ago too, on and on. Very cool. Then she asked me if the guitar player was married. Damn, I can't even get groupies among the dried-up grandmas.
Fun day with Katie. She played with my sister this morning, out on the driveway with chalk, laughing at the cats as they played with each other. I went off to video-document a few more cemeteries, then cmae back to take her over to my grandma's for her early birthday party.
Her cousins were thrilled to see her, she got a lot of presents, and I got part of it on video. The look on her face while everyone sang Happy Birthday to her was pricless. If that wasn't a "man, I'm cool" look on her, I don't know what is. Sometimes I think we over-compensated with Katie - we've tried very hard to give her confidence, and it sometimes comes out as a certain kind of arrogance that she needs toned down a coupel notches, but hey, I've got a really happy kid. She sang all the way out there for me, making up songs about cats and breakfast.
After the party, I drove her out to the big cemetery and showed her where my cousin Stevie is at. the one who killed himself seven years ago. (Though I didn't tell her that.) Then I showed her where my friend mike is at, near Stevie, and told her about the ten days I played with Mike in Southern California, and how I met her mommy two weeks after I came back to Indiana. I also showed her the neighborhood my mom grew up in, where I spent time as a kid at my grandma's, and my great-grandmother's house she lived for years before dying when I was in 7th grade, the house which is about to fall over any day.
Mommy herself called, and it sounds like yet another outrageous Keneally show last night. Lots of old stuff. And he - the goofy bastard - played a Judas Priest tune. God, I need to see him again soon. Of course, I'm so totally gay every time I get within 12 miles of him, he's probably going to book his next tour in Outer Mongolia just to not play anywhere near me. Mike, that bit I said last year about having a direct line of sight to your cock was METAPHORICAL.
OK, maybe I'm full of shit there too. That sexy bitch.
Who's Next in the van tape deck. (The van that is going back to Indy tomorrow. So much for me and my bright ideas. I guess i won't have to implant memory chips in my Mom's head detailing every single inch of a trip back from Indy in order to satiate my father's psychosis after all.) We do Behind Blue Eyes, which is one of my favorites, but that whole album is a thing of godlike proportions. I was singing (OK, screeching, I think I blew a fuse towards the end of the gig and my oice went to fuck) along with Bargain and Baba O'Riley when I left the gig. Goddamn, I love me some Pete Townshend.
Went to the bar we played last week and got a PBR and sat there looking at the empty barstools and listened to the Sheryl Crow somebody had put on the jukebox. Then I walked back to the car and ran into the guy who took my place at the music store in town when I left for SoCal the first time. His band was playing down the street. We talked about our bands and gigs, and it hit me very hard just what it is I do for a large percentage of my income now. The drunk woman back at the gig went on and on about how "professional" we were. And we are. Even with a multitude of things i'd really like to change about us, we've got this shit DOWN, and we do it damn near every week. Add in my students and...it's really difficult to use the term "professional musician" about myself, but it's half of what i do now. Finally. Fuck knows I've got so much fucking work to do to get to the point where I can really FEEL I deserve that title, but here we are, playing regularly, starting to develop an actual following, making enough money from it that it would fuck my ass NOT to be doing it.
I made $170 this weekend playing my bass. Even with all the extra bullshit involved, I call that a bargain.
I sit looking 'round
I look at my face in the mirror
I know I'm worth nothing without you
And like one and one don't make two
One and one make one
And I'm looking for that free ride to me
I'm looking for you
I know what Pete meant, but I know what it means to me, I know what it feels like to lock into that when I'm pulling notes from my bass. I've been a shitty excuse for a disciple, I've been distracted, I've even turn away from it, but music has not ever let me down. PEOPLE do every goddamn day. Music never has.
Onward.
Love,
Dougie
I'm Not As Thrunk As You Dink I Am
04.29.06 (2:41 am) [edit]Drinks were free at the gig. I went to another bar with the drummer and keyboardist afterwards and the drummer bought me one. Then I bought two more. I haven't had this much in months. And I forgot my vitamins back in Indy, so I should be a real migrane-suffering treat tomorrow.
Just got back to my parents'. Katie is asleep in some impossible position. Apparantly she watche Bambi tonight. Mmmm...venison...
I took the time to thank each and every person that came to the gig during the last set. Took about 14 seconds. We had our usual crowd of band wives and hardcores, and about that many more up at the bar. I doubt if there were ever 30 people in there tonight, including us, and I'm three of them.
This doesn't usually bother me. I'm in this to make money using 14% of the neck of a Fender Precision. Play a tune I like every once in a while. I could give a fuck who's out there unless it's a hot woman. Yeah, I'm a shallow fuck. It's rock and roll, baby. If I was in this for ART, I'd be...working during the day for a fucking temp agency and barely making the rent.
Shit.
It has its perks. Along with a nice supply of Amber Bock and rum, i got to watch a couple lovely young women (band relatives, of course) dance, and when a song came along I cared about and got to sing on, I sang my ass off. One of our better moments is one of the few '80s things we do, Midnight Oil's Beds Are Burning. It's easier to sing something I actually feel a connection to, that I can actually relate to. That's one. Tonight was the second time I nailed the harmony on that.
Did Lawyers Guns & Money and Bang A Gong for my solo spot. I'm having a hard time feeling the latter now. I felt I could sing it for someone in particular, even though she's hours away. Now she's just gone. I don't enjoy that one like I did before, but it's going to be my lead vocal with the full band soon, so I might as well get used to it.
We had lunch at Steak & Shake today. They were busy, and Amanda was apparantly having a very good time screwing around with the other waitresses (I have no idea what was going on, but they were all laughing a lot) and she seemed to be blowing me off for a while. I sat there and ate, with Katie next to me (she likes sitting next ot me in restaraunts now instead of across from me, and I like that too) and just felt a huge pain in my chest. I can't actually nail down in one sentence what it truly is that attracts me to this woman so much. It just hurts to not be able to really come out and say it yet.
But she did finally come over and say hi some more, and talk to us a bit. I love how she interacts with my daughter. Hers is only two years older than Katie. She asked Katie how old she's going to be in a few weeks. "Five? You're practically a woman! You're gonna be fighting thos e boys off any day now."
"Yeah, I'm buying a shotgun", I said.
Said it before, say it again - her smile turns me into fucking jello.
Video-recorded stuff at the big cemetery just down the road from the gig. Ran out of time, so I hope to go back tomorrow. Maybe I'll show Katie around some. She seems to be enjoying that kind of thing more recently.
I told the guys I have another tune I want to sing lead on. Elenore by The Turtles. One of the great "how did they get that past the censors back then" lyrics.
You got a thing about you
I just can't live without you
I really want you, Elenore, near me
Your looks intoxicate me
Even though your folks hate me
There's no one like you, Elenore, really
Elenore, gee I think you're swell
And you really do me well
You're my pride and joy, et cetera
Elenore, can I take the time
To ask you to speak your mind
Tell me that you love me better
I really think you're groovy
Let's go out to a movie
What do you say, now, Elenore, can we?
They'll turn the lights way down low
Maybe we won't watch the show
I think I love you, Elenore, love me
I think that song is fucking hilarious. When I saw the Turtles a few years ago, they sang the one line "you really DO me well." Heavy on the "do." Fun shit.
It was a big place, high ceilings, huge stage to wander around on. With most of our material being what it is , it felt like something fron a 50s teen movie. The fundamental absurdity of being in a cover band is both frustrating and extremely amusing to me. sometimes I stnad up there and think "Oh Christ, not THIS song again", but other times it's so fucking Spinal Tap I have to just revel in the shit.
We sat around a table at another bar later and the keyboardist told us a story about another band, his rig set up on the stage right next to the door to the women's restroom.
"We're in the middle of BTO's Taking Care Of Business when two women in line leaned into me and yelled 'Can we play your keyboards?' So I said 'Sure, you ain't gonna do nothin' to hurt THIS song.'"
I love rock & roll.
Time for go to bed.
Love,
Dougie
My Bipolar Day
04.28.06 (10:25 am) [edit]The stupid stuff first:
1.) I forgot to tell Katie to throw the baby wipes (I stopped using regular toilet paper a year ago, and I'm of the opinion the wipes are far, far better) into the trash. So we stopped up the toilet.
2.) I had to find out if I actually got paid for the first couple days I worked last week. These guys do direct desposit only. Which is fine. So I get on my bank's website and...pffft. Crapped out on me. first it just brought up and error message, then it claimed that my browswer wasn't accepting cookies. It WAS. I tried three times to get on the site. Gave up and went to the bank.
The bank is being expanded. There were seven thousand cars in the parking lot, so we went to the drive-through. The ATM was blocked off. I had to walk up to it. It was out of service. I waited behind six cars (who apparantly were each withdrawing the entire national economy of Trinidad & Fucking Tobago for all the goddamn time they took)to get an aatual teller. Got the the front of the line, told the woman (knockout blonde, I usually like my bank) I just wanted my balance. Then I hit send on the tube. It didn't move. It took what felt like eons (but was probably only 20 seconds) to get the thing to go. What the fuck was THAT about?
They got the money in. Sans the twenty fucking dollars they charged me for their precious fucking drug test, of course. But I can trust them to pay me. Thank fuck for that.
So, instead of being able to do it here at home online, I spent well over half an hour going to the bank just to find out what my fucking balance is.
Oh, my old temp agency called and offered me a job this morning. Starting today. Kinda hard to when I have my kid here. This is the first job offer they've had for me since...oh...1974, I think. OK, it's only been a month.
3.) I remembered when we got back how much stuff I have to cart up to Marion. My gear takes up most of the space in the car already, and we have Katie's stuff too. But my parents' van is still here since they haven't had a chance to come get it yet. So I thought, hey, great idea, I can drive us up in that, then Mom can drive us back down here Sunday.
She thought it was a great idea. Dad, on the other hand, has instructed me exactly how to LEAD MY MOTHER BY A LEASH in order to get her back home Sudnay. See, according to my father, my mother is obviously blind, stupid, lame, has terrible reaction times, can't add 2 plus 2, is susceptible to drooling episodes, can't be trusted with a rectal thermometer, lacks the appropriate skill needed to put one foot in front of the other and WALK, and is INCAPABLE OF DRIVING MORE THAN 30 MILES FROM THE HOUSE WITHOUT A GODDAMN SEEING-EYE DOG AND EXPLICIT FUCKING DIRECTIONS WRITTEN IN TRIPLICATE.
The thing is, he has a point. After 35 years of being married to HIS psychotic control-freak emotionally-manipulative ass, my Mom IS incapable of rational thought. He's beat it the fuck out of her. And she's BELIEVED him. Hey, he fucked me up the cranial asshole too, but at least I SORTA knew he's full of shit. You know, sometimes. Like whenever I'm not trying to TIE MY SHOES without hearing that goddamn "You're gonna fail" voice in my fucking head. Fuck you, voice. Fuck you in the ass.
"She has no business being on the interestate."
These are the fucking fools who raised me. The concept of driving on an interstate highway ELUDES them. Did I grow up with the original Children Of The Goddamn Corn or what?
He has to work that day. So now, in order to get their fucking van back to them, I have to show Mom an alternate route back home and have her follow me half the way back to her house, since she obviously is not able to do it hereself, has no map-reading abilities, and is, in general, utterly fucking worthless at fucking everything. At least according to the asshole who gave me half his DNA.
When I moved to Indy last year, I thought "It'll be nice to be closer to my family." If that isn't evidence for why I need to go into serious therapy and stop drinking, I don't know what the fuck is. AM I INSANE???
OK, now the good stuff:
1.) I picked up Katie yesterday afternoon. Sheryl and I met halfway, which was very nice of her. We came back here and had dinner and turned on the TV. Watched some MST3K and had a lovely time. She heard some noise outside and looked out the window.
"Daddy! There's kids out there! Can I go play with them?"
She's really overcome the shyness she had prevously. Now she wants to play with every single other kid she sees. Which is really pretty cool. I'm happy about that.
I didn't feel like going out, but we did and I'm VERY happy we did. Three black kids who live here in the apartments, ages 4, 6, and 8. The oldest is the girl. The others were boys. They LOVED playng with Katie, and she had a great time. They ran around and played hide and seek and tag. Then they started collecting pine cnes and brought them to me. I ended up playing too. They hid pine cones and told me to find them. Of course, they then led me around and showed me exactly where they all were, which was pretty funny. Then we spent half an hour throwing pine cones and rocks into the little stream by the apartment. They were great kids. I'm glad we got to do that.
2.) Gigs tonight and tomorrow, and our gig next week will be the first with our "alternate" durmmer. I hadn't realized until yesterday that he's playing half (if not more) or the gigs from now on. We're booked almost solid for the next three months, with several gigs scattered through to the end of the year. I'm probably going to have to drive back up to Marion sometime during next week to do another practice with him. We've done three, but I've only been at one, and they've ran into some problems without me there. But the other guys are pretty excited about having him in, and I think he's going to work out great.
3.) Katie woke up before me, and was out playing with her dolls in the front room when I woke up. She had already put on a beautiful pink dress. I feel like the luckiest daddy on earth right now. We're having an early birthday party for her tomorrow at my grandma's, and she's VERY excited. I love watching her get that bouncy happy thing going. She's fun.
4.) Gonna go to my favorite place for lunch on the way up to Marion in a couple hours. Gotta see my favorite waitress.
Bullshit aside, I think it's going to be a fun weekend.
Love,
Dougie
Not Nice To Make Burger From Tarkus Meat
04.26.06 (10:44 pm) [edit]Talk about conceptual continuity...
Anyway, I'm sitting here listening to a 1971 Emerson Lake & Palmer show from the big bootleg box set series they put out a while back. And it rocks. And stuff.
Focus, asshole. Focus.
No, not the band with Jan Akkerman.
Amanda. Think about Amanda. Everything else is insanity. Only Amanda.
It's been too long. Friday. I'll see her Friday. I won't have anything for her, nothing big to say. Just let her know i'm still here. Waiting. Waiting sucks, but she's worth it. I hope. I hope I'm not pissing my time away on something that will nevr happen. But that's why I have to go back. I only get concerned about these things when i've been away too long. When I'm there, I feel like it can happen. Until she says otherwise, I have to move forward on that.
Amanda. Pull your mind from the insanity and FOCUS, assbag.
Just was reading wikipedia's entry on bipolar disorder, which I've read a few times. Welcome to my world, motherfuckers.
I think I'm gonna splooge. ELP doing Tarkus in 1971. My love for that piece (taking up side one of the album) has grown steadily over the years. I don't think Emerson ever topped the sheer balls and fearlessness he so ruthlessly displayed on this 20 minutes of prog-powered bliss. I love a lot of his stuff. Nothing like this, though. All three of them at their peak. Maybe my favorite lyrics of Lake's. Certainly some of his finest bass work. This particular version (September 1, 1971) stomps the stuffing from my skull. Ahhh, ELP back before theatrics and complacency settled in. Just pure fuckin' adventure in music. Fuck the naysayers. Lester Bangs can eat my cock. THIS is rock and roll, baby. Rampant unfettered individuality and gleeful rule-smashing abound. Deranged moog-farts, and Lake (who could sing the phone book to the tune of Mary Had A Little Goddamn Lamb and make me love it) spitting in the face of organized religion. How fuckin' cool is that?
Jesus. I have to be up for work in a little over five hours. and go get Katie tomorrow afterwards. I'm looking forward to tomorrow night. Make dinner and sit back and watch some MST3k. I've got three CDs of bootleggy Canturbury goodness to ask Sheryl to give Keneally for me. I love giving him stuff. Last year I handed him a few discs of Tony WIlliams' Lifetime and they way he beamed looking at those discs filled my little black heart with joy. I hope he comes around here soon. I'm gonna have to stick my tongue in his ear, that sexy little man.
Oh fuck. Aquatarkus just kicked in. I get sucked into this, and everything else on the planet is mere POOT. I'm apparantly a total fagmonkey for Keith Emerson, because those synth noises are like taking a big ol' Moog-y bone in the ass, and I'm bending over a little more for him. Do me, bitch.
I'm gonna have a hard time explaining this all to Amanda if I ever get her. LOL.
Love,
Dougie
PS Holy Mother Of Fuck. What is he DOING to that Moog? I just shot six layers of spoo in my undies.
Fuck-Gremlins Eating My Brain
04.26.06 (7:08 pm) [edit]"If Bon Scott was on the Highway To Hell, you're the hood ornament."
- A guy I used to work with
"So, how's the prettiest lady in all of Dollar Tree today?"
"OK" Her voice cracks, she giggles, looks away, turns seventeen shades of red. I just made a woman do that? Cool!
"I just got you really flustered, didn't I?" Big grin.
"Yes, you're making me blush. Thank you. Thank you very much. You're always so nice to me."
"Very easy to do when it's someone as beautiful and friendly as you are."
She tries to regain some sense of composure. Starts ringing my stuff up. I can't BELIEVE the way she's looking at me. When she looks. She's trying not to look. Wow, I just really brain-fucked this poor girl good, didn't I? Cool!
Too bad I'm a degenerate piece of shit for doing it. Hitting on a woman who is married and six months pregnant. Jesus H. Sandblasted Christ, Doug. Are you out of your fucking mind? I'm probably just doing it because I know there's no way in hell it's ever going to go anywhere, but for fuck's sake, does THAT make it a good idea?
Oh my God, she's looking at me again. With eyes that say...they can't REALLY be saying that, can they? Fucking impossible. I have to be imagining this. She can't REALLY be looking at me like...like...oh my fucking gawd.
Every single molecule is burning. Scorching. The hairs on my arms are standing up. How does a girl get that combination of being so pretty, having such a wonderful sweet smile, a lovely voice, a killer body, and an all-around aura of...innocence? Is that it? The word doesn't really fit, but there's SOMETHING in her that suggests that. Hell, I don't know. She seems so...sweet. Nice. Pleasant. Obviously just the kind of girl that should be running away screaming from my rancid pig ass right now. But she's not. Those eyes...holy fuckin' shit, those eyes...She definitely likes the attention she's getting. Maybe that's all it is. But she obviously is enjoying it.
I learned a couple things about her. She's 21. THAT was a surprise, becuase I actually thought she was five or so years older. Beautiful, beautiful woman. I wouldn't have thought she was that young, though.
She's also back in school, getting her GED. That was a surprise too. She seems pretty smart. I wonder what caused her to quit school. She said "Just for some really stupid reasons."
A little more small talk. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. She seemed to be making an enormous effort not to look at me. Maybe she thought she'd turn to stone. No...when she does look...dammit H, you're carbonating my brain cells.
I have no business at all flirting with this girl. But damn, she's beautiful. That red hair, those eyes, that...everything. Fucking everything. I only feel dirty later when I think about the fact that she's married, six months pregnant. It seems WRONG afterwards. but at the time, when she's talking to me, looking...it seems really...nice? I don't feel a shard of perversion when it's actually happening. It's not even all that sexual. Just...like admiring art. She's simply beautiful and sweet and I'd love just to look. Oh, I want to do other things too. But only later. When she's there, i feel like a nice guy. I only feel like a depraved swine later, when I remember who she actually is.
She always comments on how often I'm in there. It's not actually because the women are so hot there (OK, it's that too) but I tend to need to pick stuff up there about three times a week. I do my shopping in small bursts.
"I'll see you again in a few days." She said that with expectation. She wants me to come back? Ahh, she just likes the attention. I'm feeding her ego. It can't be...wow...I can't believe the way she looks at me...
This hood ornament is probably gonna fall off and get ran over by a bus full of liquid pig shit. The fact that I'm enjoying the ride so much kinda scares me.
Love,
Dougie
Indeterminate Feathery Thing
04.25.06 (10:23 pm) [edit]"Indeterminate feathery thing." Sheryl used that phrase tonight when i called them (long story) and wow. I have a great name for a band now. I'll have to send her royalty checks for that one.
Way into Canturbury prog rock, due to a slew of shows available on dimeadozen.org which, if you havne't been there, GET OFF YOUR ASS. It's a torrent site LOADED with killer "unofficial " live shit of just about everyone who ever had a tape recorder or DAT machine within 1000 miles of them.
I'm a huge fan of the REAL Dave Stewart (prog-rock keyboard icon, former Keyboard Magazine columnist, hilarious writer of liner notes to albums nobody buys), not the wanker from the '80s. I came to Stewart via his Keyboard column and his work on Bill Bruford's late 70s albums. He's also semi-known for two of the most outrageously interesting "Canturbury" prog bands, Hatfield & The North, and Natioanl Health. Insanely difficult, mostly instrumental music, but usually with an airiness and oddball sense of humour that fucks my world in half, baby. Stewart's chops as a player and composer are unreal, and goddamn it, it's too bad four people on the planet know who he is. And I'm two of them.
He also played with Egg, sort of a ELP/Nice goes heavier and denser and weirder. And i'm a huge Keith Emerson fan too.
Anyway, go find some of this shit. I just got a slew of shows from these bands, and I'm listening to National Health's Complete, a double CD collection that isn't actually their complete catalog, but is most of it. It's the kind of unrepentedly musicianly thing that I know my readers from proggy/Zappa/Keneally circles might enjoy, so there ya go.
Got a SHITLOAD of stuff at the library today from a psychotic spree of placing holds on their website last week. Loads of Bob Mould - solo, and with Sugar and Husker Du. Also some Pixies, and the guitar tab books from two Faith no More albums, The Real Thing and Angel Dust. I'm a freak for Faith No More, always have been. Got a couple of their VHS tapes from the library too. I love libraries.
I haven't seen A4 at work since that first day. Damn. But today I had A1 on my mind anyway. I REALLY am missing Amanda, it's been a little over a week now. I think I'll go in there Friday when me and Katie are heading up to Marion. I haven't got a clue what I'm going to say, I just have to let her know I'm still around.
I allowed myself a couple hours of serious thinking ahead today, asking some harder questions I haven't wanted to ask myself about what might happen if I ever do get to be with this fabulous lady. It's all absurd, I might not get anywhere with her at all. But I let myself go there for a while, and I've come to the conclusion that I've got a shitload of inner work still to do, but I'm not going to let that hold me back from pursuing her further. I HAVE to. I'm very unsure of...well...most things. But I'm quite confident that it's the right thing to do, that the things I feel towards her are really quite balanced and right. The details I don't know about. The basic impulse is driving me to her.
Another incident this week made me think hard about other things. It's a bit disconcerting to have someone suggest something to you that makes you question their motivation for doing so, but you still know they have a valid point. In my case, I had to hold back an awful lot of nastiness that I knew would be counter-productive (though not without reason), because I knew I had to think about what was suggested to me. I'm being vague, but I'm asking myself a lot of questions about where I'm at in my head, and where I'm going. WHY I'm going there. I don't like all the answers. I feel very strongly that there's a strong, very good part of me. And another part that is really fucking evil. I spend most my time living in the vast expanse of grey between the two, not knowing what the fuck I'm doing. I suppose we're all like this. In fact, part of what I hate about my fellow humans is our unwillingness to ADMIT this shit. I'm goinna admit it. becuase dammit, why not?
But when I think about Amanda it becomes clear again, and I know I'm doing this for the right reasons. I might fuck it all up anyway, but dammit, I've gotta try. It feels like my first shot at a truly healthy relationship with a woman.
That is IF she's not just stringing me along and being nice to me because she's not up to telling me to go fuck myself. I have to accept that possibility. Sucks, but I have to.
OK, we need a dick joke now before my head goes any farther up my ass.
My dick.
OK, there's the joke. Let's move on.
Also thought for a while about A2. Damn, I miss her. I know you're still reading this shit, babe. I still have your picture here. I still care about you, and I hope you're OK out there. I just wish I knew why you left, if I said or did something wrong.
I've been writing a post about something totally unrelated to all this in my head for two days now. It's REALLY disgusting. I'm proud of it, but I haven't typed it up into final form yet. Soon.
Jesus H. Fuckin' Shitbasket. I've gotta be up in five and a half hours. Good night, you fuckers.
Love,
Dougie
Huhuhuh, "stiff competition", huhuhuhuh
04.25.06 (3:09 pm) [edit]Clearly, something is amiss.
For those who don't know, tblog keeps a list of the top 100 "hot blogs." Check it out from the main page.
Anyway, I've been floating in the 20's for some time, which is a nice thing, I guess. However, today, I've come face to face (to put it one way) with my basic inadequacy, the realization that I simply am not DOING MY JOB for you, my fine readers.
THIS blog is four places ahead of me:
asstrafic.tblog.com
Yes, ladies and gents, ASSTRAFFIC (or, a person who can't spell "asstraffic") has "one-upped" me (so to speak), and I am truly humbled.
So, without further ado:
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There. Now I feel much better.
Love (and assfucking)
Dougie
This Place Is Full Of Adventures And Flowers
04.23.06 (10:56 pm) [edit]"Grownups are just silly children." - Roy Harper
The highlight of the drive to see Katie this morning (after three hours sleep) was listening to Issac Hayes' Hot Buttered Soul. Maybe I need to stop going after hot girls and let a bald black man make sweet love to me. Shit, that's some good stuff. The bass groove on Hyperbolicsyllabicsesqued alymistic is the stuff hard-ons are made of.
As I type, Zappa is tearing my soul apart with one of the most perfect guitar solos in recorded history, on Any Kind Of Pain. From the Broadway The Hard Way album. As further proof of how fucking incredible Mike Keneally is, THAT motherfucker actually played this damn solo nearly note-perfect on the Zappa's Universe video. He brings the bus ride to a thrilling conclusion.
Also cranked up the first Mono Puff album, the side project from John Flansburgh of They Might Be Giants' fame. There's a KILLER instrumental surf-guitar tune (Guitar Was The Case) at the begining of that album that FUCKS MY SOUL. Holy goddamn gee-tar-bangin' shit. It hit my head. Now I'm left-handed.
Katie and I had an incredible day up at Caesar's Creek State Park, near Waynesville, Ohio. I've gone on at length before about the odd connection I felt to this place when I found out how many of my ancestors lived there, but it truly is a beautiful part of the world to spend an afternoon.
We had a picnic at one of the shelters, then walked down a trail beside the lake. She spent 45 minutes digging in the mud with a stick as the waves came in from the speedboats across the lake. She was VERY INTENT on her digging. I just sat there and watched her. I'd told her about another ittle girl who might have played there back when it was just a creek, before the Army Corps Of Engineers created the resevoir in 1975. "Katie, you know your Grandma? My mommy? Her grandma had a grandma who was born here. I bet she used to play by the river when she was a girl."
For all I know she stayed in a log cabin and ate grubs. But to see my daughter playing at this place was...spiritual? I have no idea how to describe it. I have come to slowly almost accept that I'll never leave the Midwest. I haven't made myself LIKE this inevitability yet, but when I go back to southwest Ohio, I know where I might be able to be happy the rest of my life. Maybe. Something tells me I'll be back there next summer. and I really want to live as close to Caesar's Creek as possible. I feel somthing there that I don't get anywhere else.
We walked through the trees, and back out to the picnic area, then over to another trail. As we walked back into the woods, Katie noticed the wild flowers growing. "Daddy, this place is full of adventures and flowers."
I liked that.
We sat for 15 minutes at a little fishing hole where maybe a dozen people (apparantly the same family) were fishing. We watched a boy let a fish off the hook back into the water. I told Katie I need to learn how to fish all over again. It's been 20 years since I went up to my grandparents' lake place and sat out there fishing. I never got that good at it, but I'd love to fish with Katie.
Later, when we were nearly home, I told her that I was going to talk to Mom and Dad about coming down there so we could all go back and visit together. They havne't been there in a while.
Katie said "And Mommy can come too! And my whole family! We can all fish together!"
"That would be nice, honey." I don't see it ever happening. But hope is alive inside my daughter. Every once in a while she says something like that, something that lets me know she's still thinking about when we were all together. It breaks my heart, but what do I say to her? Let her have her dreams. They're probably much better ones than mine anyway.
We drove into Waynesville and got gas, then over to the old Quaker cemetery. "The little girl I told you about who was born here? Your grandma's grandma's grandma? Her grandparents are buried right here."
She looked at the worn stones. "They must be really old."
"They've been dead for 150 years, honey. But they were very interesting people."
I told her about this part of her family. How they were among the first white people to live in the area, how they came here because they wanted to live in a place away from slavery. I told her about slavery, about Quakers, about what makes me want to visit this place as often as I can, the connection I feel to these people.
"Daddy, did they make the little black kids be slaves too?"
The concern in her voice...
"Yes, honey. But these people didn't believe people should be slaves, and that's why they came here. And slavery is no longer allowed in this country. It was made against the law soon after these people buried here died."
"Are you sure the little black kids had to be slaves too?"
The things you have to explain to a four-year old...
She seemed satisfied when we left. As we drove off, I told her how much I appreciated the way she thinks.
"Ever tell your kids, you're glad that they can think?" - Frank Zappa
"Katie, i'm glad you asked me about the little black kids, that you wanted to know I was telling the truth."
"I believe what you say, Daddy."
Ouch. This kid has a lot to learn...
"I'm glad you do, honey. and I always try to tell you the truth. but that's what I want to talk to you about now. Most people who tell you things are probably trying to tell you the truth. But we don't always know what we're talking about. Sometimes we're wrong. And that's OK, becuase we're all just hmans, and we're all still learning stuff. But we are wrong somtimes. And I'm glad you asked me these questions, because that's what you should always do. Always question what people tell you. they're probably nice people and they believe what they say, but you have to find the truth out for yourself. Don't let other people tell you things without always questioning if it's right. Including me. I don't always get it right either. I'm your Daddy, and you might have to do what I tell you sometimes, but that doesn't mean you have to believe everything I say. I might be wrong sometimes. Always ask questions, honey. Always."
"OK, Daddy."
i wonder if anyone else will ever say that to her. I figure it's my job. i don't know if I can teach her much else, but I can teach her that adults are full of shit sometimes. And it's OK to know that, it's OK to question. Do it the right way. Don't be an asshole about it (like, say, your daddy half the time) but never stop questioning. it's the only way we truly learn anything.
Or maybe not. Maybe sometimes we learn simply from staying still long enough to let it all sink in. Like the way we did by the lake, the way we did when we watched those people fish, the way we did again later by the creek before we left. We said very little to each other. Just sat there and watched. Quietly observing. i don't do that often enough. i figure few of us do. Something else to teach my girl, though based on today, I think she knows it quite well already.
She napped for half an hour after we left, driving back towards her house. We ate at a Mexican place (her idea) and went back home. I'll be with her again in four days. I can't wait. I still feel this huge wall between my life here in Indianapolis and back there with her in the Cincinnati area, but i'm finally coming to terms with it, and i'm learning how to get what I need from both. Being with her is the one truly pure experience I have all week. She's full of questions and observations. This world is still new to her. She hasn't let it beat the hell out of her the way I have been stupid enough to do. And I think i have more to learn from her than i'll ever be able to teach.
As we drove to the cemetery and I gave her the back-history of the area, She seemed to be actually somewhat interested. She said "Daddy, you know a lot of interesting stuff. You should be a teacher. That's what grownups do when they're really smart. They become teachers."
It filled me full of warm fuzzies. But I couldn't tell her what I really felt. That I'm actually dumb as a box of shit about most stuff, and it's a constant source of irritation. I don't tell her that, because she shouldn't have to grow up like that. She shouldn't have to feel the ludicrous need I feel to be better than what I (or anyone) is capable of really being. The self-loathing that comes wit not matching up to something that is impossible for a human being to match up to. I don't want her to ever have to feel like that. I'm having a fuck of a time stopping myself. But as long as I have her to learn with, to observe with, to walk through the trees and watch the birds and throw stones into the water with, I don't have to feel like shit either. I'm back to that newness when I'm with her. That sense of adventure. I can teach her that. That people try to take it away from us, but we shouldn't let them. It never really leaves us. We just sometimes need a Katie around to bring it back out.
It's only been three hours since I left. And I miss her already.
Love,
Doug
Fuck That Shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!
04.23.06 (3:35 am) [edit]Fun gig tonight, much better than I'd hoped for. We even ended up getting paid better. It's an old bar with a new owner (a guy who likes us a lot already, used to see us elsewhere in town) and we played their grand opening. Place was fuckin' packed. They seemed to really like us, we got a ton of nice comments between sets and afterwards, and he raved about us all night.
We did good too. We didn't really kick in until late in the night, but it was solid all around. I finally got my voice back after two shitty weeks, and absolutely nailed everything I sang. I only did one solo tune, Heart Of Gold, but we also did Cinnamon Girl, (I sing the high part, and I've never done it better than tonight) and there's few things I enjoy more in this band than singing harmony behind Mark on Jumping Jack Flash. I cranked the treble up on the amp during the last set and really dug in, and we pretty much rocked like a motherfucker.
Lots of women. Few I was interested in, but man there were a few. A couple killer, killer brunettes, probably around 30, both dancing throughout our last set. Another brunette, a rather big but very pretty girl in her late 20s maybe, was there for the last few tunes, and yeah, I like them big asses. Nice, honey. Very nice.
Cool surprise afterwards. The back end of the place looks out across an alley to a factory I worked at during a summer in college, my dad was the corporate pilot for them for years. A block away is a convinience store i used to go to. I felt like something quick to munch on, and when I saw the store, I wondered...
I walked in. Sure enough, there he was.
"Fuckin' Abe!!!"
I hadn't seen him in at least six years. I always thought of Abe as the crazy punk-metal guy. Always in leather and chains, hair everywhere, a really scary looking motherfucker, but one of the nicest guys I've ever known. Fucking NUTS, but a very cool guy. I remember him handing me a tape he'd made me and saying, "You'll get a kick out of this. It's entertaining." My introduction to GG Allin. Pleasant, heart-warming toons from the center of sickness. I need to find that damn tape now.
He's worked at that same damn place on third shift for at least ten years. He used to come into our singer's old record store, and I used to visit him at the convinience store at 3AM after getting off work delivering pizza. I'd stand there by the door until the crack of dawn talking music with him, keeping him company so he wouldn't be alone with the crackheads who came in at those wretched hours. Not that it would have mattered. He carried at least half a dozen weapons at all times, including a shotgun under the counter in case of...uh...emergency? Sometimes I wondered if he was looking for an excuse to whip the fucker out. I don't think he would actually ever try to hurt someone unless they were after him first, but I KNOW that crazy bastard enough to know he'd blow a load in his pants if he got the chance to scare the shit out of somebody. Nutty fuck. If I ever write my novel, he's gonna be a character in it.
It was funny, though. He didn't have the leather on. just normal store-cashier stuff. Still has the biker/punk-approved hair and beard, but now he has glasses. He's gained weight. Holy shit, he looks almost...normal? Nah, he's still Abe. but it has to be as domesticated a version of him as I could ever have imagined. And he was glad to see me too. "I thought you were in Cincinnati! Where the hell you been, man?"
I told him i'd try to stop back in next weekend since we have two gigs in town and I'll be staying at my parents' with Katie. I didn't stay more than two minutes this time since I wanted back home. I'm going to sleep now, get maybe fur hours or so and go down to Cincy. but I sure am glad I saw Abe again. I missed that guy.
Today's drive music was Roy Harper's HQ, the Cure's Standing On The Beach, a Roky Erickson best of, Deep Purple's Machine Head, and Metallica's And Justice For All. Tonight's beer - Pabst Blue Ribbon. Nice and cold. If there's one thing I can't fucking stand, it's warm beer! Makes me fuckin' puke!
In dreams I walk with you,
Dougie
I Wonder Why I Do This Shit To Myself
04.22.06 (1:27 pm) [edit]Yeah, I admit it. I went by her old apartment to see if she'd left yet. I'm a total masochist.
Melinda left this morning. Kara told me about it. Went to Kentucky to visit family, then she's off for good to somewhere near San Francisco. Apparantly her family is loaded, which explains all the travelling she's done in the past few months. She told me in the letter last night that she's driven west and back three times, and all over the east coast too. Lucky girl. This last time, she came back to Indy the same way I'd told her I came back through Arizona and New Mexico, and she even stopped in Roswell solely because I'd told her how much I liked that goofy place. She described eastern Arizona and the drive through White Sands in New Mexico just like I remember it. Damn, I wish I could go back west again.
I saw Kara outside, went up and talked to her for maybe 25 minutes. She offered me some tea and fruit. For a girl who looks like she's ready to bite the head off the first motherfucker to piss her off, she's really very, very friendly.
We talked about Melinda mostly, and I found out more about the really weird relationship they have. "She's the best friend I've ever had and I love her more than anyone, but I swear, I want to kill her most of the time." I bet these two have had LOTS of fun taking turns with the strap-on... LOL
Some of what she said didn't line up with what I thought I knew, but I'm not sure it matters much. She told me Melinda mentions me every once in a while, mostly she feels like shit because she played wth my head. Yep, she sure did.
After it was done, I felt i understood her a little more. Kara had some interesting insights. I don't want to share them, because...eh, I don't know. I don't feel *I* should know as much about these two as I do, let alone talk much more about them. But I feel bad for them both. Everytime I think I'm fucked up, somebody comes along to make me wonder how I got off so easy in 36 years. Kara's seen some really bad shit too, she just seems to have got through it better than Melinda.
She's moving out too, after she's done with school here, going about thirty miles from where Melinda is going to. Sounds like they still have time for each other.
I wished her well and went on. And yeah, she's pretty hot too. She was out washing her car when I got there, barefoot with short shorts and a loose oversized t-shirt. Long straight dark hair. Hell of a babe. She didn't seem to mind - I HAD to have been obviously two steps from drooling on myself - and she even gave me a quick hug and thanked me for being nice to her wackjob girlfriend. Nice girl.
Then I came home and saw the old retired guy two doors down. He saw me outside smoking. I'm such a melodramatic putz sometimes. I was smoking a Winchester, re-reading the letter. Then I set the damn thing on fire in one of my Guinness pint glasses. Glenn came up and said, "Some girl got you down?" Yeah, I'm kinda obvious.
We saw the guy who used to live next door to me, The guy who's 19-year old girlfriend left him for the 40-year old ex-boyfriend who used to beat the shit out of her. He moved around the corner into a two-bedroom (which is how I ended up with Gay Porn Boy next door) and has a new girlfriend. They came outside together to leave in separate cars, it was the second time I've seen her. STUNNING. Tall knockout supermodel-type blonde. K is a lucky guy, that's two unbelievable women I've seen him with. Well, the first one turned out to be fucked-up, so I guess he's not QUITE so lucky, but damn...he gets to fuck that? Bastard. I'd be happy to LOOK at her for an hour or two.
I spent 20 minutes leaning against the back of Glenn's truck (man, it's beautiful outside today) listening to him tell 40-year old stories. Cool guy. He asked if I knew anything about the neighbor in between us. I told him I know he watches a lot of TV late at night. LOL.
Poor old guy would keel over dead if he saw the shit I've seen next door. :)
Got some decent sleep last night. Had a nice conversation on the phone with Sheryl and Katie this morning. I think I'll take Katie up to Caesar's Creek when I go down there tomorrow. Lovely weather out there.
Playing some bar in Marion tonight, lower pay than usual. But it's a new place for us, so I'm looking forward to it. We've agreed that I'm singing Bang A Gong from now on - we're eventually going to do it as a full band - and I think I'll do Something for my other solo bit. In a George Harrison kinda mood all of a sudden. I'd love to do that with the full band and get to play that sweet, beautiful guitar solo, one of the few I've ever bothered to learn note-for-note. But that would mean I couldn't play that outrageously cool bass line. I love me some Beatles.
Have a lovely day, motherfuckers.
Love,
Dougie
Squeeze Me, Macaroni
04.21.06 (8:16 pm) [edit]"My hand gets tired and my dick gets sore,
But the girls of porn want more."
- Mr. Bungle
Guess who just dropped by without talking to me?
i was cooking chicken and listening to Megadeth's Risk (which isn't that great, but has some cool riffage here and there) and my windows are up. I thought I heard something outside.
A note on the door. Must be from the landlord.
Nope.
Melinda. Everybody's favorite daddy's girl.
Fuckin' hell. I was just thinking about her the other day. Fuck knows why.
I hadn't seen her in at least a few months. (Before Christmas? Just after? I can't remember now.) I won't copy it here, there's a couple things i really don't feel like sharing (bad things that happened to her that she told me about months ago and repeated in the letter, good things about me that would be a huge exercise in ego to repeat about myself, and I don't completely believe them anyway) but it was a tad unnerving. She saw me at the gas station up the road a few hours ago but didn't think she should bother me. But she HAS drove by the apartment several times, trying to decide whether or not to talk to me, hoping i'd come otuside. Is this chick stalking me? Am I being full of my own shit to think so?
She's in town for a few days, getting her things from her old apartment. She's been around the country, but mostly in California, and is moving there. She's mostly lived there for a couple months. She's not living with/seeing Kara anymore. (Kara, the Avril Lavinge-looking roommate/lesbo-lover.) She's living with a guy now. And his girlfriend. I don't EVEN want to know the details of this.
Bullshit. I do too. I want fucking pictures and free downloads of ten-second video clips that'll give my computer yet more spyware. Who am i kidding?
She went to visit her dad in jail a while back. She's "made peace" with that. I hope so. Then again, knowing what that piece of shit did to her, and that he even was able to make her ENJOY it for a while...ick. I'm glad she's happy about things now. But it still makes MY skin crawl and I wasn't even there. This fucker was EVIL to her, and made evil feel like love. Goddammit. And *I* feel like an asshole sometimes? I'm Jesus next to this rotten fuck.
For those who don't know, this girl was around for a few days several months ago. Go read my November 2005 archive. I just did, and it made me laugh and feel ill all over again. There's also some good stuff about Amanda (you know, A1) that made me smile and gave me a good boost. I hadn't read any of that shit in months.
Anyway - Melinda. I look almost exactly like her sexually-abusive father, and I still don't know what the fuck actually happened between us in those few days. It's like a weird blur. She actually kissed me. Right here in my bedroom. That was it, but that was REALLY FUCKED-UP after everything she told me about her father, and I don't think she'd even told me all of it at that point. I managed to keep my brain from going in the wrong head (which, given the details, was really not hard to do, the sick little bitch) but she's VERY pretty, VERY sweet in her wackjob way, fourteen years younger than me, and....dammit, I thought she'd disappeared off the face of the planet. Why did she come back, if only to leave me this damn letter? Christ, she was maybe 20 yards from me an hour ago and I never saw her. I don't know whether to be creeped out or not.
You know how you get some weird paranoid idea in your head that you know is complete bullshit but you can't help but be controlled by it for a while? I've looked out the window about 47 times now, waiting to see Melinda with her baseball bat. The one she TRIED TO KILL HER DAD WITH.
I've been going totally bugshit in this damn apartment for months now, feeling both good about my solitude and utterly alone, often at the same time. There's been two women in here since I moved in. This wacko psychobitch, and that stupid cunt a couple weeks ago who I tried to be nice to because I was letting my dick control my brain again. Two walking festivals of neurosis, and i'm GLAD I didn't fuck either of them. That's pretty damn amazing, dontcha think?
She apologized for "using" me (thanks, sweetheart) and for "taking advantage of your feelings." Yep. sure enough, baby. Gave me wood and everything. Thanks a lot. Bitch.
I don't usually even like using the word "bitch" about women. Even women I don't like. I TRY to be respectful, because I LOVE women. But THIS twisted little girl deserves it. Most of the women I know are either wonderful or at least definitely mean well, or are merely annoying at worst. But it seems I've run into more CUNTS and BITCHES in the past year than at any other time I can remember. I figure it's payback for how much of a FUCKHEAD I've been more than once in my life, but it doens't make it any less fucked-up.
She wrote a bunch of other stuff about how nice a guy I am, which I don't really quite buy. I think she's more full of shit than I am. Imagine that. But yeah, I tried to be nice to her. Considering that I had to take multiple showers to keep from feeling like I'd given myself some fucking disease being around her.
And she was so pretty. Jesus Christ.
Enough of that shit. A4 wasn't at work today, so there was no great ass to check out. We left an hour early, which does no favors for my wallet, but I guess some days they stay late, some days they leave early. Fuckin' hell.
Teriyaki chicken and rice with Steel Reserve for dinner. Another Megadeth album going, Cryptic Writings. I appreciate it more than Risk, but I think the only album I NEED of these guys is Rust In Peace. THAT kicks some ass. This stuff is merely cute.
I just called Megadeth "cute." I really am in the Dark Lord's realm now. LOL.
Oh, fuck this shit. I'm putting in the first Mr. Bungle album. Why hold back? I need something that actually IS evil right now, not this pussy pretend paint-by-numbers Dave Mustaine horseshit. I remember the Jeezo-bangers I used to hang out with getting all freaked out just by the NAME Megadeth. "Oooooh, that's SATANIC!!!"
You know what? If that's the best Satan can do, *I* could bitch-slap that little horned cunt from here to the nearest tit-bar and back. Fuck him in his ass. Mike Patton makes Satan look like James Fucking Dobson. Add in John "I Ate Beelzebub's Cock For Breakfast" Zorn on sax and production, and you've got yerself a fuckin' PARTY, my friends.
GOD BLESS MR. BUNGLE. Don't you fuckin' look at me!
Ahhh...to have a beer with Mike Patton and Dennis Hopper. That might be better than pussy. I DOUBT it, but I'd sure like to find out.
I haven't even written yet about the Chinese take-out shit I took earlier today. THAT is a fucking story. I should have saved it and sold it to NASA. You could glue together a zillion space shuttles and avoid those nasty accidents. Holy SHIT. Literally. New from Touchstool Pictures - H.P. Lovecraft's The Colour Out Of Doug. Yep. My asshole could knock a blasted heath into a Massachussettes country-side. Cthulhu ftagn, motherfuckers!
I'm fucking tired. I hope that bitch comes back. i'm gonna crank up My Ass Is On Fire when she does, hang my head out the window and scream "REDUNDANT!" thirty or forty thousand times, and make that little girl go running back home to Daddy.
Love,
Dougie
Dumb All Over
04.20.06 (8:48 pm) [edit]"I'm completely in favor of the separation of Church and State. My idea is that these two institutions screw us up enough on their own, so both of them together is certain death." - George Carlin
So the state of Georgia is now giving state sponsorship to Bible classes. Oh, how lovely. I suppose when the devil went down there, he found just a few too many souls to steal and now you fucking fundamentalist Christians want them back, eh? As if Satan doens't have anywhere better to go than fucking GEORGIA.
This is STATE SPONSORSHIP being used for RELIGIOUS PURPOSES. What's happening to this country? And why is it that despite owning the President and a majority of Congress, getting their shit through the FCC, getting more and more attention from the "liberal" (my ass) media and representing most of the fuckers who hold me up in "red state" traffic, they STILL insist that some massive "anti-Christian" conspiracy is overtaking this fine God-fearing nation of ours? Why? Because somebody made a movie in Hollywood about fags kissing? What the fuck is WRONG with you assholes?
Our priorities are SHIT. The Republican party - bought and sold long ago by the Religious Right - are pushing wars with enemies other than the people who actually attacked us, pushing for restrictions on what can be said in the media, going apeshit about homosexuals (as if it AFFECTS them in ANY meaningful way), and continuosly propogating the LIE that this country was founded by people with the same "values" as they. Hey, asshole. The guys who founded this country valued OWNING BLACK PEOPLE. How about updating our approach to MODERN NECESSITIES rather than rewriting history in your tainted fucking image?
One of the things that makes our country great is that you can believe any shit you want to believe. One of the other things that makes it great is the separation of church and state that makes sure assholes who believe one thing in particular don't end up FUCKING THE REST OF US IN OUR NON-BELIEVING ASSHOLES.
Bible classes are not part of the Constitution. In fact, they VIOLATE the rights of those of us who DON'T BELIEVE THAT SHIT. you might want to take a moment to separate FAIRY TALES from REALITY and know that SCIENCE makes for EDUCATED STUDENTS. RELIGION is for church, NOT for schools.
A nation that ignores its poor, ignores education, ignores the poisoning of our air, water, and food supply, ignores a solid and effective infrastructure, and values CONSUMERISM AND JESUS above all, does not DESERVE better than what we are getting. We are perfectly happy to give up some of our freedoms (or, to put it a more accurate way, the freedoms of those who don't think like we do) for the ILLUSION of safety and security, the ILLUSION of a "God-centered" culture. I've got news for you fuckers. your precious leaders don't ultimately give a FUCK about God, they care about OIL and MONEY. This is not even debatable among people who READ and are capable of CRITICAL THINKING.
Further news for you fucking Christians that I know you don't know about. Us nasty "liberals" (I just love being able to call myself that, especially since I'm more truly conservative than the current neo-con fucks EVER will be) ARE NOT OUT TO GET YOU AND YOUR PRECIOUS VALUES. We don't give a SHIT what you believe as long as you LEAVE US ALONE. Making movies about queers is not an attack on you. It's a fucking MOVIE. Stay the fuck home and watch Pat Robertson if you don't like it. We're FINE with that. We don't CARE about the shit YOU do in your spare time. I couldn't give a fuck about The Passion Of The Christ or the Left Behind series. YOU CAN HAVE IT. Good for you. That's YOUR thing and you are WELCOME TO IT. You don't see guys like me picketing bookstores because Tim LeHaye is "undermining my values." No, I'm at home PRACTICTING my values. You know, downloading porn, jerking off, drinking beer, and READING every once in a while. Those are my values. And don't pretend yours are BETTER somehow. THEY SERVE THE SAME PURPOSE. You get to feel good because you've deluded yourself into thinking God loves you. I get to feel good because I got to delude myself for about three minutes that Aurora Snow wants MY dick in her ass. The only difference is that with enough alcohol and a few ropes, MY DREAM MIGHT COME TRUE.
Republicans won an election because they somehow managed to make a chickenhawk fool look "braver" than a decorated war hero, because they managed to get millions of people behind NON-VALUES about gay people, and because they SCARED THE SHIT out of the general public with a "war on terror" that has little to do with what actually happened on 9/11 and a hell of a lot to do with POWER. You fuckers control most of what happens in this country now. But that isn't good enough, is it? Now you have to extend that shit into EVERYTHING, including fucking BIBLE CLASSES in schools that aren't even good enough to teach these little fuckers how to count to ten. Do we need these Bible classes? NO. Our economy and our social structure does NOT depend on some half-wit at a Taco Bell drive-through being able to know that JESUS SAYS SEX IS BAD. It also doesn't depend on the same annoying little half-wit beng able to make proper change, but at least THAT gets traffic moving a LITTLE BIT FASTER, which makes for more time for you people to take the tax money you saved on going to such secular activities as...oh, I don't know...providing decent HEALTH-CARE to sick people (something I think Jesus might show some interest in if he were here today) and spend it instead on SHIT YOU DON'T NEED.
The idea that this is or ever has been a "Christian nation" is NONSENSE. CHRIST HIMSELF might have a thing or two to say to you fat fucking consumers in your fucking gas-guzzling SUVs, spending countless dollars on meaningless entertainment and fast-food and filling your kids full of Ritalin if they don't RESPECT you. (Phewwwwwwwwww.)
There are some Christians who KNOW what Christ was about. Not many, but a few. People who have READ the words of Christ (and don't confuse them with the other shit in that confused, contradictory, source-varied, and utter anachronism known as The Bible) might have values like CHARITY. Like TOLERANCE. Like PEACEFULNESS. Like INTELLIGENCE. Meanwhiie, you fuckers and your continuous support for a lying, cheating, war-mongering, simple-minded WHOREBAG PRESIDENT are obviously more faithful to PEOPLE than you are PRINCIPLES, and THAT is why I say take your fucking Bible classes back to your churches and LEAVE US OUT OF IT. We don't need our children filled with your "values." We need children who can THINK FOR THEMSELVES, can come up with workable solutions to basic life-situations, can READ, and who value "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you" (You know, something CHRIST taught?) over "do unto others before they have a chance to do anything that might actually matter unto you.."
You don't need the Ten Commandments, people. Most of those commandments are religious horseshit that have no bearing on the needs of modern civilized man, and the few that do don't need RELIGION to enforce them. You think we couldn't come up with "don't kill, don't lie, don't steal" on our own? Like YOU fuckers are the sole proprieters of that? Take a look at your fucking President and give me that shit, you hypocritical FOOLS.
If you need your centuries-modified, handed-down-by-generation s view of Jesus to be able to make it through your day, FINE. Enjoy it. Treasure it. But DON'T INFLICT IT ON US. A few TV shows or books are not going to bring down your empire. Your influence is GROWING, thanks in no small part to the bought-and-sold leaders of this formerly great nation who have BULLSHITTED you that they "care" about your "values" in order to get your MONEY and your VOTES. Look past their words (which are LIES) and look at what they DO. Then ask yourself what would JESUS do if he were in their position. I guaran-fucking-tee you that the answer is going to be QUITE different than the example given to you by the SWINE who run our government, Republican and Democrat alike. These people are SOULLESS CASH WHORES who have been pushing your buttons for years to make you THINK they are on your side. They're not. You are more meat for the grinder, motherfuckers. While you spend the money they haven't taken away on bullshit and sit in front of the tube burning away brain cells instead of pursuing INDIVIDUAL FURTHER EDUCATION, they are running away with the REAL money, the REAL power, and you are left holding the empty bag. I'd feel sorry for you, but you ASKED for it.
Whoever we are
Wherever we’re from
We shoulda noticed by now
Our behavior is dumb
And if our chances
Expect to improve
It’s gonna take a lot more
Than tryin’ to remove
The other race
Or the other whatever
From the face
Of the planet altogether
They call it The Earth
Which is a dumb kinda name
But they named it right
’cause we behave the same..,
We are dumb all over
Dumb all over,
Yes we are
Dumb all over,
Near ’n far
Dumb all over,
Black ’n white
People, we is not wrapped tight
Nurds on the left
Nurds on the right
Religous fanatics
On the air every night
Sayin’ the Bible
Tells the story
Makes the details
Sound real gory
’bout what to do
If the geeks over there
Don’t believe in the book
We got over here
You can’t run a race
Without no feet
’n pretty soon
There won’t be no street
For dummies to jog on
Or doggies to dog on
Religous fanatics
Can make it be all gone
(I mean it won’t blow up
’n disappear
It’ll just look ugly
For a thousand years...)
You can’t run a country
By a book of religion
Not by a heap
Or a lump or a smidgeon
Of foolish rules
Of ancient date
Designed to make
You all feel great
While you fold, spindle
And mutilate
Those unbelievers
From a neighboring state
To arms! to arms!
Hooray! That’s great
Two legs ain’t bad
Unless there’s a crate
They ship the parts
To mama in
For souvenirs: two ears (get down!)
Not his, not hers, (but what the hey? )
The good book says:
"it's gotta be that way!"
But their book says:
"REVENGE THE CRUSADES...
With whips ’n chains
’n hand grenades..."
Two arms? two arms?
Have another and another
Our God says:
There ain’t no other!
Our God says
It’s all okay!
Our God says
This is the way!
It says in the book:
Burn ’n destroy...
’n repent, ’n redeem
’n revenge, ’n deploy
’n rumble thee forth
To the land of the unbelieving scum on the other side
’cause they don’t go for what’s in the book
’n that makes ’em bad
So verily we must choppeth them up
And stompeth them down
Or rent a nice French bomb
To poof them out of existance
While leaving their real estate just where we need it
To use again
For temples in which to praise
OUR GOD
('Cause he can really take care of business!)
And when his humble tv servant
With humble white hair
And humble glasses
And a nice brown suit
And maybe a blond wife who takes phone calls
Tells us our God says
It’s okay to do this stuff
Then we gotta do it,
’cause if we don’t do it,
We ain’t gwine up to hebbin!
(Depending on which book you’re using at the
time...can’t use theirs... it don’t work
...it’s all lies...gotta use mine...)
Ain’t that right?
That’s what they say
Every night...
Every day...
Hey, we can’t really be dumb
If we’re just following God’s orders
Hey, let’s get serious...
God knows what he’s doin’
He wrote this book here
An’ the book says:
He made us all to be just like him,
So...
If we’re dumb...
Then God is dumb...
(An’ maybe even a little ugly on the side)
From the album "You Are What You Is" by Frank Zappa
When something that "offends" you comes along, learn to look the other way and merely be INCONVINIENCED by it. That's what we've been doing with most of your bullshit for years. But when you make that shit into NATIONAL POLICY, you better expect us to fight back, because this country is for ALL of us. It's for YOU. It's for US. ALL of us. Now get back to your business in this country, and LEAVE US TO OURS. And maybe, just maybe, start making your decisions based on what is best for EVERYONE and not just the people who smell like you do.
Love (no, really),
Dougie
-------------
I just read that our asshole Attorney General is now going apeshit over kiddie porn. Yet another Republican tactic to distract freom the REAL problems. You wanna know how to stop kids from being exploited by pornographers? EDUCATE THEM. Kids who have some degree of self-respect and aren't IDIOTS won't be "victimized" by those nasty porn merchants. And lower the age of consent (and therefore the "modeling" age) to 15. It's the only rational decision.
Today's Post Brought To You By The Letter "A" And The Number "69"
04.20.06 (6:52 pm) [edit]Djam Karet's Burning The Hard City sending waves of blistering bluesy prog-rock through my nerve endings. This is the shit, boys and girls, this is the shit.
The new job sucks less than it could, but still sucks. But I'm remarkably awake, enjoying black beans and rice (heavy on hot sauce and cumin) with Steel Reserve beer - the dinner of chumpions.
The highlight of the day was undoubtedly the newest addition to my Library Of Fuckable Females. How a 22-year old girl can shoot three kids out in 4 years and still look that damn good...holy SHIT that's a body I want to get to know in the Biblical sense. Great rack, incredible little ass. I want to make friends with that ass.
"Hello, ass. My name is Doug. Can I be your friend? I like you, you are a fun person. Since we are friends now, I have a present for you. It looks just like a Telefunken U-47."
By the way, her name is Amanda.
Jesus jumped-up Christ in a Hummer. I'm gonna have a hard time keeping these women who aren't actually fucking me straight. (You know. ALL of them. Dammit.) Maybe I should just start going after women named Amanda. That way, if one of them finally does succumb to my...er..charms...I can just yell "Yes, Amanda! Yes!" and it won't matter which one it is.
So, now I have two Amanda's in my brain, and two other females with names starting with the letter A. So, to make this all more coherent (or not, as the case may be) I give to you Dougie's Guide To the Women I Want To Fuck With Names Starting With The Letter A. Or, for short, The A-Team. I pity the fool who can't tell the difference between the women in my A-Team!
I'm dreadfully sorry. That was just wrong.
Anyway...
A4 - Amanda, the new chick from my new job
A3 - The lawyer/punk-rock chick
A2 - The girl who I don't get to talk to anymore, but I still think about too much. Because I really like her, that's why.
A1 - Amanda from Steak & Shake. She gets to be A1 because 1.) i've known her the longest, 2.) I've put the most work into her and she's the one i really feel I can actually connect with, and 3.) I want to cover her in A-1 steak sauce and lick it off her.
OK, I want to do that last thing with all four of them. At the same time. With leather. A boy can dream, right?
So I spent all day stocking shelves (it's really pretty easy work) and checking out the ass on A4 whenever she walked by. Rack too. God DAMN those are some mighty fine funbags.
(I no longer feel the slightest bit of guilt over my supposedly sexist terminology given what WOMEN talk about. I was filling out paperwork in the front of this new temp agency's office yesterday, and all the women (no guys there that i've seen yet) were in the back apparantly thinking I didn't hear them laughing when one of them started talking in hushed tones about her new boyfriend. "Oh my god, you wouldn't believe the dick on this guy. You could make a double sausage pizza with that thing. Girl, he's got a COCK!" Then a couple of them started making gagging noises, leading to more muffled CHICK-LAUGHTER. When one came around the corner, I made an over-exaggerated snorting noise and smiled at her. She turned six shades of red and hid behind the counter. And no, I'm not making this shit up.)
A couple other nice looking ladies at work, but most of them were frightening. Including my new supervisor. But she's very nice, thanked me kindly for staying an extra 15 minutes to help with clean-up, and gave me no shit whatsoever about needing next Friday off. I'm going to have Katie for three days while Sheryl goes to L.A. to see a Keneally show. Lucky girl. But I'm a lucky boy, because I get more time with my girl.
So even though I'm still more or less fucked on the end of this month cash-wise, at least I can spend May catching up some.
A run down again of The A-Team:
A1 - The girl I'm throwing most of my hopes into, my favorite waitress, the most amazing smile on the planet, and she's got me so far gone I'm even wondering what a long-term thign might be like with her, despite the fact that nothing at all has happened yet. I'm fucking nuts about this one, and I'll need heavy sedation if she shoots my ass down, which I have to accept the possibility of.
A2 - A lovely girl half my age who doesn't want to talk to me anymore and it breaks my heart, but it's probably for the best, but even if it is, I don't really want the best, I just want to talk to her some more. Dammit. That still hurts,.
A3 - A really cute and incredibly interesting lawyer/punk-rock girl who just wants to be friends, and I'm surprised how fine I am with that considering how apeshit I was over her a month or so ago.
A4 - Some girl I work with who is friendly enough but probably doesn't give a shit whether I live or die, but that's OK, because geting to look at her ass ALMOST makes up for how little money i'm making at this stupid job. Not really, but it takes my mind off it for a while.
A5 - Some road in the UK.
Fans of adventurous proggish-yet-rockin' gee-tar work really need to buy Burning The Hard City by Djam Karet. They've done albums that are probably more fully developed and integrate their ambient side in well with this more rockin' stuff, but if you just want the rockin' stuff, this album kicks more ass than an ass-kicking thing. Bass Player magainze called their bassist "Les Claypool's evil twin brother", so if that doesn't sell you (and I'm not sure it's the best description, but the guy fuckin' rules) just fuckin' forget it.
I just ate a whole can of black beans and a cup of rice and i'm STILL hungry. What the fuck? Oh Lord, I might have to finally break down and get into that stack of Ramen noodles. Gawd help me.
Love,
Dougie
For Someone In Particular
04.20.06 (4:23 am) [edit]Just because I saw it coming (or did I)
Doesn't fill up that hole you left
My mind is still running
Your picture is still on my desk
Fucking terrible at writing these things
Might just read like a pile of over-sentimental goo
But I see you're still reading my words anyway
And you can bet I ain't forgot about you
It was only ever a dream
Your life awake won't cross with mine
But since I hoped to fall asleep beside you
Just continuing the dream would have been fine
Go on with yours, I'll go on with mine
Not a fucking thing else we can do
But don't forget, I don't regret
The moments I shared with you
Love?
Dougie
A Puddle Of Jizz
04.19.06 (7:35 pm) [edit]"That's right, shithead! I'm gonna have another drink! And the reason I'm gonna have another drink is because the dogs are still barking in my head! Got it? I pay a psychaitrist a lot of money to stop the dogs from barking, but that shit doesn't work. It doesn't work!"
- Lewis Black
The kid with the hot Teri-Hatcher-like mom was my last student tonight. Jesus H. Christ on a cracker, I have no idea how I keep from just turning into one big puddle of jizz in front of this woman. Doesn't she realize that I would gladly devote my life to giving her multiple orgasms with my face?
then I stopped at the dollar store for cheap soap, hot sauce, and energy drinks (the essence of life, you know) and there was the hot thin supermodel chick who could add seven inches to my weiner just by STANDING there. Then of course she opens her mouth and suddenly I try to figure out how anything that MUNCHABLE could be dumber than a box of redneck shit. Maybe this might work to my advantage. MAYBE she's stupid enough to fuck ME.
A boy can dream, right?
Fuckin' hell, i've gotta be up at 4AM.
Love (and plenty of tongue),
Dougie
The Cable Companies Can Suck My Testicular Region
04.19.06 (3:41 pm) [edit]Is it just me, or do the people who come up with the bizarre labyrinthe of rates for these fucking cable companies represent the lowest end of SHITHEADS AND WHOREBAGS that weren't good enough to become politicians, TV preachers, or FOX News correspondents?
Just an observation.
Dougie
Fuckity-Doodle
04.19.06 (2:04 pm) [edit]I've been scrambling like a motherfucker for the past couple weeks ttying to find extra work. The students have dropped off badly, the band certainly is helping but it's not enough, and I'm going to be behind on EVERYTHING soon.
The temp agency has been fucking worthless for three weeks. I'd signed up with a different one some time back, they just found me a joh today. It's SHIT, but I don't have any choice. I'll be making less money than I have anywhere else in the past year, and I have to get up at 4AM to work a really stupid shift. Who comes up with this shit? 5AM to 1:45PM? At last it doesn't conflict with the two nights I teach (I have to be there at 5PM) but this is nowhere near what I've been looking for. Going back on Mondays after the kind of weekends I pull is going to be hell.
I'll be there a while though. I don't have any fucking choice right now. I think I must have filled our 50 applications in the past few weeks, and haven't got SHIT from any of it.
Hopefully the beginning of school come August/September will boost the students back up. I've been shocked at how unreliable a source of income that's been. I've never dealt with as many students dropping out or just plain not showing up as I have since I took this on in January. It's still worth doing since it's still going to be bringing in half as much as I'll make at this new shit job in far less time, but it's not gone remotely as well as I thought it would.
Well, that's all I have on that shit. I've got a goddamn headache now.
Love,
Dougie
-------
Another thing:
If these fucking companies are so uptight about their poorly-paid employees using drugs and they need these damn drug screens, THEY should fucking pay for it. I get to piss away nearly three hours of my first paycheck just so that some fucker who's sucking down martinis and antidepressants gets to feel safer because he knows I'm not smoking that nasty devil weed. I pass the fucking test, that's not a problem, because I don't do the shit they're looking for. But making ME pay for their hypocritical nonsense pisses me off. I hope they use my money wisely - you know, to buy some more scotch for the company president's corporate-sponsered birthday party. Lying hypocritical fucks.
If I Were A Good Man...
04.19.06 (12:15 am) [edit]"If I were the moon
I'd be cool
If I were a rule
I would bend
If I were a good man
I'd understand the spaces between friends."
- Roger Waters
It's funny what a bowl of Manhattan clam chowder, a couple old Pink Floyd albums, and writing a long email to a friend can do for your equilibrium.
Love,
Dougie
Brain Stew
04.18.06 (9:26 pm) [edit]"And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They'd probably put my head in a guillotine."
- Bob Dylan
Dylan pretty much summing up my day once again. It's been strange these past few days, the sinking feeling that everything is falling apart, even though I know it's probably not true, and there's several things going RIGHT. But the feeling is still there. I'm coping fairly well by my admittdly bad standards, except that the urge to drink is immense.
I'm not good company tonight. The shit in my head wants to be let out, but it can't be. Not here.
It's alright ma, I'm only bleeding.
Love,
Dougie
A Joke
04.18.06 (11:58 am) [edit]A man was sitting in a bar drinking, and after a few drinks he began looking destitute. Finally he looked up to nobody in particular and said, "If the furniture business doesn't get better soon, I'm gonna lose my ass!"
The bartender came over immediately and said, "Look, sir. We've got ladies in here. You can't use that kind of language in this bar."
So the man became quiet and kept drinking. A few drinks later he looked up and said loudly to nobody in particular, "If the furniture business doesn't get better soon, I'm gonna lose my ass!"
The bartender rushed over and said "I told you can't talk like that in here!" and began dragging the drunk man out the door.
One of the women sitting at a table rushed over and said, "Why are you kicking him out? I've got a similar problem to his. If the ass business don't get better soon, I'm gonna lose my furniture!"
Nice Surprise
04.17.06 (5:47 pm) [edit]Just got a phone call from A, the lawyer I went out with a while back.
I'd left her a message last week but had given up on hearing from her again. I should have given her more credit than that.
I've focused on other women since she told me she was seeing someone else, but she had said it would be nice to hang out again sometime, and she reiterated that tonight. She's still seeing him, and really likes him, and I no longer really feel anything there, surprisingly enough. (Knowing me, one would think I'd be a bitter shithead about it.) But she's still very cool, and it's nice to know she still wants to be friends. I'm looking forward to spending time with her again.
I told her about Amanda, and briefly mentioned the other A (the one who doesn't want to talk to me anymore, and I've just noticed again that the three most interesting women I've known lately all have names starting with A) and she wished me luck. We mostly talked abut music (the ex of hers we ran into on our one date apparantly has just got on MTV with his band), and how she'd like to come see the band some time. We've got a gig down this way in July, everything else is up north. Hopefully she can come, and I'm sure she will.
So it didn't go the way I wanted it to, but this one has turned out to be a decent little friendship. When we both have more time (or when she does, I have far too much time on my hands lately) we'll finally do something again.
OK, now I'm gonna go back to thinking about Amanda. LOL.
Love,
Dougie
If Only...
04.17.06 (3:25 pm) [edit]...I was smart enough to write something this good myself.
From the Van Der Graff Generator album Still Life, I submit to you one of Peter Hammill's finest creations.
LA ROSSA
Lacking sleep and food and vision,
here I am again, encamped upon your floor,
craving sanctuary and nourishment,
encouragement and sanctity and more.
The streets seemed very crowded,
I put on my bravest guise -
I know you know that I am acting,
I can see it in your eyes.
In the harsh light of freedom I know
that I cannot deny that I have wasted time,
have frittered it away in idle boasts
of my freedom and fidelity
when simpler words would have profited me most...
...it isn't enough in the end,
when I'm looking for hope.
Though the organ monkey screams
as the pipes begin to spit
still he'll go through the dance routines
just as long as he thinks they'll fit,
just as long as he knows that it's dance,
smile - or quit.
Like the monkey I dance to a strange tune:
when all of these years I've longed to lie with you,
I've bogged myself down in the web of talk,
quack philosophy and sophistry -
at physicality I've always balked,
like the man in the chair who believes it's
beyond him to walk.
I've been hiding behind words,
fearing a deeper flame exists,
faintly aware of the passage
of opportunities I have missed.
But the nearness and the smell of you
,
La Rossa from head to toe....
I don't know what I'm telling you,
but I think you ought to know:
soon the dam wall will break,
soon the water will flow.
Though the organ-monkey groans
as the organ-grinder plays
he's hoping, at the most,
for an end to his dancing days...
still he hops up and down on his perch
in the usual jerky way.
Though this might mean an end to all friendship,
there's something I'm working up to say.
Think of me what you will:
I know that you think you feel my pain -
no matter if that's just the surface.
If we made love now would that change all that has gone before?
Of course it would, there's no way
it could ever be the same...
one more line crossed,
one more mystery explained.
Now I need more than just words,
though the options are plain
that lead from all momentary action.
If we make love now it will change all
that is yet to be...
never could we agree in the same way again.
One more world lost, one more heaven gained.
La Rossa, you know me,
you read me as though I am glass;
though I know it
there's no way in which I can pass -
though it means that you'll finish my story
at last I'd trade all the clever talk,
the joking, the smoking and the quips,
all the midnight conversations, all the friendship,
all the words and all the trips
for the warmth of your body,
the more vivid touch of your lips.
All bridges burning behind me,
all safety beyond reach:
the monkey feels his chains out blindly,
only to find himself released.
Take me, take me now and hold me deep
inside your ocean body,
wash me as some flotsam to the shore,
there leave me lying evermore!
Drown me, drown me now and hold me down
before your naked hunger,
burn me at the altar of the night--
give me life!
Third Stage, My Ass
04.17.06 (12:18 pm) [edit]"I’m gonna take you by surprise and make you realize, Amanda
I’m gonna tell you right away, I can’t wait another day, Amanda
I’m gonna say it like a man and make you understand, Amanda
I love you."
- Some fucking arena-jizz cheese-merchants from Massachussettes who can make nine million guitars sound like they're coming through a goddamn straw
Somebody kill me. There's a fucking Boston song lodged in my brain.
Threw money into the bank that still won't cover what I need it to. Drove down to the auto shop to give him ten bucks on what I owe him. Thank fuck I only owe him another $35 and he's willing to wait a while longer.
Then I drove to check on a job I'd applied for. No news there. I called all three offices of the temp agency right at 9:00 to be on their availability list, but nothing there either. i've not worked for them for almost three weeks now. And I'm going to be bleeding from the ass by May 1st, even if they find me something tomorrow. I've applied for at least 30 other jobs in the past couple weeks, and I'll be hitting the trail again in an hour or two. But I'm still fucked. The little bit of student money still owed me this week won't be near enough. If I even see that.
I tried to pull my mind from all this, and from the heavy disappointment of last night that nearly kept me in bed this morning. Onward, motherfucker. Fucking onward.
Towards Amanda.
"Hey babe!"
Fuuuuuuck. Just the sound of her voice...
"Coke, Sprite, or coffee?"
"Coffee."
"Five-way?"
"No, I'm going to do something really weird today and order something else."
I walked back to the back corner table where I usually sit. She came to me with coffee and water. And the smile. I can't say enough about the smile. Though you're probably saying "Yes you can, and we're sick of hearing about it, you fucking cheesehead."
Bite me. Her smile is where i want to die.
"I really liked that poem you gave me. Thank you very much."
One two three four five...
"Now you know how I feel."
She just smiled bigger. Looked away slightly. Hehe. Damn, this feels good.
"I only let a little bit out at a time, because I don't want to scare the shit out of you..."
A chuckle. "No, you don't."
"...but that's how you make me feel."
"You're so sweet."
Be still my beating...everything. Every fucking molecule was pounding.
I kept my eyes right at her. "And I'm sure you still need your space."
"I do. I'm trying to spend more time with my family."
"I understand. Absolutely."
"Been spending more time with my parents."
"I bet that's just what you need. Good for you. I totally understand."
Another smile. Another thank you. And on she went, back to work.
And that was about it. I wanted to find something else to say, something else to pry that letter-opener into her heart just a little bit further. But I didn't, and it's right. One step at a time, Doug. One step at a fucking time.
Got the portabello and swiss steakburger. Pretty fucking good. But I've had waaaaaay too much beef in the past week. Going totally veggie at least for the next three or four days. No more budget for eating anything not already in my cabinet anyway.
She's asked for the weekend off. I don't know when I'll see her next. But I'll be armed with something new. I don't know what yet. Got my ideas. If I could just get Tom Fucking Scholz and his fucking Velveeta anthems out of my skull, I might even come up with something good. I'm thinking I just might.
She ain't gonna forget this motherfucker. Nope.
Babe, tomorrow’s so far away. There’s something I just have to...AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! !!!!!! GET IT OUT! GET IT THE FUCK OUT OF MY SKULL! EVIL! EVILLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!
I hope you all had a happy Dead Jew Still In The Ground Day yesterday.
Love (and Velveeta),
Dougie
New Morning
04.17.06 (9:43 am) [edit]"Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you
Forget the dead you've left, they will not follow you
The vagabond who's rapping at your door
Is standing in the clothes that you once wore
Strike another match, go start anew
And it's all over now, Baby Blue
- Bob Dylan
Took a long time to go to sleep. I woke up to the radio, on some godawful '80s station. Cheezoid one-dimensional tales of heartbreak.
I listened to it for at least 15 minutes.
As much as I'd like to pretend otherwise, I can be quite the maudlin, over-sentimental cheesehead. I suppose that happens when somebody works their way into your head and heart. Kinda hard to avoid. And maybe you shouldn't avoid it.
But I finally turned it off and put on some Dylan. He does this kind of thing a lot better. He can make me smile too.
Last night was a bad ending to an otherwise very good day. I stayed with my parents after the gig, got some reasonable sleep, woke up and made some gumbo for our lunch. We ate, watched Ghostbusters ("You're right, no human being would stack books that way.") and I took off to a nearby cemetery with the video camera to do some recording.
Whoever gets the joy of viewing this video later will be treated to my magnificent camera work and startingly eloquent narration. In other words, it's kinda ridiculous, but at least people will know where these graves are at. I don't spare a lot of details. I just film them stupidly.
Mom followed me to another cemetery in Greentown. Mostly this is my dad's side, but my aunt Nancy is there too. She died a couple years ago (only 52 years old) and was briefly married to my mom's brother. I've got a cousin from them, and though she was only married to him for about a year, she often came to our Christmas functions with cookies and pie, and I can't think of a single bad thing to say about her. She's buried next to her sister's family in the newest part of the cemetery.
I got that on tape, and plenty on Dad's side too. My great-grandfather was the first of our name in the area, having moved from south of Indianapolis in the 1880s. There's a lot of people around there with the same last name as me, but very few of them are related in any way I know about.
So I should have expected what came next.
it's pretty funny. My grandfather's sister married a man named Howell, and they are buried next to another of Dad's aunts and uncles. That name is in other places in the cemetery, including the stone of a couple who are still alive (I see lots of stones with no death dates anymore, purchased years in advance by people wanting to spare their children all that extra work upon their deaths, and I have a ton of respect for these people and hope to do so myself) the man having the same name as a cousin Dad told me about. In fact...hey...that's the name on the mailbox across the street. I knew they were there, but I hadn't connected the first name. I saw an old white-haired lady in the driveway and went over for a visit.
"Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I think your husband might be a relation of my father's."
Turns out that there are THREE separate families of that name in the area, they have no connection that any of them know of.
Her husband came out. He has the same first and last name as my Dad's cousin, and even has a brother of the same name as that cousin's brother. He's also 26 years older and moved here from Missouri. Not the guy I thought he was. But the great-uncle in my family is buried a hundred yards from his house.
Funny world, eh?
They were a very nice couple, talked to me for 15 minutes, very helpful. The lady brought out a local history book, and I'll need to go back to their library and copy three pages about another family connected to mine, my great-aunt's husband and his family. A cousin from that end was with me the last time I was in that cemetery, and showed me around. The book has a very nice amount of detail. My great-aunt is still alive there in town. I saw her at Christmas. When I said her name, this lady with the book told me she knew her.
Then I told her my last name, and she started in on people she knew. Many of whom I don't think are family. But then she stopped. "Hmmm, you know, I bet it's been 50 years ago, but I remember being at a dance near here, and there were these two boys by that name there. Really nice boys. Really cute. Their names were Neil and John."
My uncles.
"Neil in particular was so cute, so nice."
My Uncle Neil currently is a bald toothless dirty old man who collects mannequins, has about 300 birds caged up in his garage, talks about how you better wash your hands before you piss after eating hot peppers, makes lewd comments to other 75-year olds, and generally is regarded in our family as being two degrees short of completely insane. I want to be just like him when I grow up, by the way.
Fun trip to Greentown.
Drove into Kokomo, and to another cemetery on the south side, where another great-aunt is buried. Wasn't there long before heading down 31 back home. I was hungry, so before leaving town I stopped at Lewis Black's favorite health club and got some pancakes. But I didn't drink the boysenberry. It's been a long time since I ate at an IHOP, but Uncle Lew is right - no matter how much you weigh, there is always somebody there who weighs 350 pounds more than you ever will. A giant-balloon guy with a buzz cut was sitting alone at a table with 47 pounds of pancakes. I think that was his appetizer. I'm hoping to see Lewis next month in Cincy. God, I love him.
A good day. I came home and had it shattered with one simple email, but I'll get over it. But I really am gonna miss you, babe. It looks like you're starting over. Strike another match. I only hope the best for you. The things you said to me, the insights you shared, the way you made me laugh and feel, those things meant a lot to me. I hope I gave back even half of what you gave to me. Thank you. Be well.
Love,
Dougie
JTYBJ,O.,YUKBGF7YMUU83
04.16.06 (9:41 pm) [edit]ergrcgjiprg mpf gm5g mregkrep gkerjcg9pi50cu589itpbm9pv 5cpgk'ae50gugnaeor8sgjc8o gnrd reiogn eroijgc8oerjcgnroaejg90c5 4e gnp4gjc9045gc 59pgm45pgc45,pg 5gj45ctiw-0sti j439-yu 6084ghmp9gjmwt45,kv,0krj h90r6jhmse5ph9mistmh9jr6p 9hjp5hymhmp ghh iopthj trhj045jh96ho;dtmhtrjmhps hsdm'msth'ghth;s5hm59p4 4 4k gt-q3 4 rkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk kkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Damn (Slight Return)
04.16.06 (8:49 pm) [edit]This is hitting me harder than I thought it would.
It's painful now to look at her picture. To think about how good I felt last night, with her at the forefront of my mind while playing and singing at the gig. That was a good feeling last night. Now...fuck...
I pretty much asked for this, though.
It was different going in. More superficial. But I'd started to feel like it had become a rather interesting friendship, and I really enjoyed talking to her.
Do you have any idea how it feels to have Zappa's You Didn't Try To Call Me going through your head and be SERIOUS about that?
Dammit. The things I repeatedly do to myself.
I have to think forward. I have to think about what happened with Amanda on Saturday. THAT was realistic. THAT might actually go somewhere. THAT has never made me question if I'm being some kind of asshole.
I need to focus on that now.
I need to think ahead.
I need a fucking dick joke to pull myself out of this blubbering self-absorbed hole I'm digging and making you people read about.
A huge muscular man walks into a bar and orders a beer.
The bartender can't help but stare at the guy because in contrast to his large muscles, the man has a head that is the size of an orange.
The bartender hands the guy his beer and says, "You know, I'm not gay but I want to compliment you on your physique, it really is phenomenal! But I have a question, why is your head so small?"
The big guy nods slowly. He's obviously fielded this question many times. "One day," he begins, "I was hunting and got lost in the woods. I heard someone crying for help. I followed the cries and they led me to a frog that was sitting next to a stream."
"No shit?" says the bartender, thoroughly intrigued.
"Yeah, so I picked up the frog and it said, Kiss me. Kiss me and I will turn into a genie and grant you three wishes."
"Keep going!"
I looked around to make sure I was alone and gave the frog a kiss. POOF! The frog turned into a beautiful, voluptuous, naked woman.
She said, "You now have three wishes."
I looked down at my scrawny 115 pound body and said, "I want a body like Arnold Schwarzenneger."
She nodded, snapped her fingers, and POOF there I was, so huge that I ripped out of my clothes and was standing there naked!
She then asked, "What will be your second wish?"
"What next?" begged the bartender.
I looked hungrily at her beautiful body and replied, "I want to make sensuous love with you here by this stream." She nodded, laid down, and beckoned to me. We made love right there by that stream for hours!
Afterwards, as we lay there next to each other, sweating from our glorious lovemaking, she whispered into my ear, "You know, you do have one more wish. What will it be?"
I looked at her and replied, "How 'bout a little head?"
Doesn't change the way I'm feeling right now, but at least it takes the edge off inflicting my horseshit on you fine people.
Love,
Dougie
Damn
04.16.06 (7:03 pm) [edit]One of my favorite people to talk to in recent months sent me a mail today. We won't be writing each other any more. I suppose it was inevitable, and probably for the best given a few of the particulars (figure it out yourself, I don't feel like going on), but it does kinda hurt.
Be well. I'll miss you.
Love,
Dougie
"Do you boys know any waltzes?"
04.16.06 (1:37 am) [edit]Interesting gig tonight. Well, kinda dull actually, but we had a good time anyway.
I gave up months ago on ever getting laid at most of our gigs since we keep playing these Eagles and Legion clubs in front of friggin' paleolithic fossils, but man, tonight took the prize. We barely got past 1965 out of fear of making this fucking AARP convention die of a mass heart-attack from having to hear some really awful heavy metal noise like, oh, I don't know, Jumping Jack Flash. I can just imagine the rattling of canes if we still had the balls to do Fairies Wear Boots or Children Of The Grave, which, of course, we DON'T. Dammit.
So, no pussy for Dougie. Again. Nothin' new there, of course.
I did Bang A Gong for my solo part. Last week I had a dozen women dancing to me. Tonight a bunch of people older than my mom (who was there for almost two hours, since I somehow managed to talk her into the death-defying feat of driving more than five miles down a wide-open state highway after dark) sat there and LOOKED at me. Fuck 'em anyway. i was thinking of somebnody a lot younger than them while I sang it. Younger than me, in fact. Hey babe, I'm still saving my pennies. :)
Also did Buddy Holly's Well All Right (I used to do it with Dennis, this was the first time by myself) , which went over much better, though I was told that the reason the guitarist was fucking with the PA the whole time I did it was because my vocals wer nearly inaudible for some reason. Ahhhh, professional show business.
The place used to be a skating rink, so it had a huge dance floor, and a very cool extra long stage with TONS of room, which always inspires me to move around a lot. At least until my back goes out. I spent the last set and a half on my stool doing my Robert Fripp impression. Haven't had to sit that often at a gig in a long time. I play better seated anyway. Shit, now I'M feeling old.
They want us back in July. so now we have a grand total of two weeks off until the beginning of August. I'm quite fine with that. I haven't quite had the nerve to tell the guys that I'm considering looking for a second band for weekday gigs. What the fuck else am I gonna do? Work in a goddamn warehouse the rest of my life? IF the temp agency actually works me, which they haven't done in two weeks now?
Money has become very bad. This month may end up with me in the hole in ways I really don't want to be. The beginning of May should bring that back to at least a workable place if I'm actually working more, but I'll have to be doing forty hours a week somewhere very, very soon. Students have dropped off sharply in the past few weeks, and I've had more problems with people not showing up, not calling - and therefore not PAYING - than I've ever had teaching. I've got two weeks to figure out how to come out of April without being severely fucked. I'm about to start putting random stuff on eBay and selling hand-molded poop-monkeys out of the back of the car at busy intersections. "Hey! You! In the SUV! I've got a sculpture of an ape I made out of my own shit! Ten bucks! No, come on! Roll your window back down! Coem back! Work with me here, motherfucker!"
In this fucked-up country, I might actually be able to pay the rent like that.
Well, time for go to bed, Tor. I'm gonna jerk off thinking about both Amanda and my favorite barely legal teen. Because you've gotta have goals, my friends. You've gotta have goals.
Love,
Dougie
Yaaaaay!
04.15.06 (4:13 pm) [edit]Up in Marion at my parents', off to the gig in a couple hours. I just talked to our singer and found out that other than the weekend in May I wanted off to be in Cincy for Katie's birthday (which coincides with our drummer using the PA for some kind of school engagement) we are now booked straight through every weekend until July, with two Friday/Saturday weekends at that. And since July is already half full, I don't see that month staying open much longer either. So our next real break wiil be August, since we're always off two to three weeks that month to make room for everyone's vacations anyway.
Yaaaaaaay! I get to make money playing bass!
Love,
Dougie
No More Chickenshit Platter For This White Boy
04.15.06 (11:47 am) [edit]"And the sun which formerly shone
In the clearest summer sky
Suddenly just changed address
Now shines from her blue eyes."
- Andy Partridge
I have no idea what I must have dreamt last night about her, but I was thinking about her when i woke up.
Amanda. I want you now, Amanda.
I'd considered it before, but today was the day. I hand-wrote the lyrics to my favorite love song, folded the paper, wrote her name on it, and went off to defy the laws of physics and actually be halfway romantic for once in my fucking life.
She does that to me, you see.
Yep, it's time. Start pushing it further. The time has come today. My song has been psychedelicized.
She was on break when i got there. Shitfucky. So another girl took care of me, and I sat there power-drinking coffee like a motherfuck, waiting for Amanda.
Finally...she appeared. "Hi babe! How ya doin'!" She called it out from behind the serving station, just like she always does. Always acting like she's happy to see me. Me. Catherine wheeled and senses frazzled.
She was tired, drinking lots of coffee herself, apparantly. Her hair was up in a white bow. Apple venus on a half-open shell.
She went about her work, and it was five minutes before she came by my table. I kept it in - somehow I always keep it in around her, and I suppose that must mean something given how prone I usually am to drool on myself - but it was building up in me. Hookah with my senses bubbled.
Finally she came by.
"I have something for you."
The moon packed its bags. Shone from her bright smile.
"It's a song that makes me think about you. I wish I wrote it, but I only copied it down for you. It makes me think about you."
God, that smile. I want to kiss that. Before indecision can bite.
No more indecision. Fuck that shit in its rancid asshole. This motherfucker ain't going there no more, baby.
She put it in her pocket. The smile...radiating...sending waves of assurance through me. Oh, it's gonna get good. Might take a while, but it's gonna get good.
"One two three four five...senses working overtime..."
But i didn't get the response. She was working. Didn't have time to read it. So finally (after way the fuck too much coffee) I left. She rang me up, told me she'd read it, and smiled at me again - oh, she'll read it. She's saving it for a better time. Holy shit. I could see it in her eyes. This is gonna get good, I tell you.
Or it might all go to shit. Doesn't matter. I've bought the ticket, i'm taking the ride. I did a long time ago, but I've got the fucking season pass now, motherfucker. I'm gonna ride this one out to the end, and it