My Ass Hurts
12.29.06 (4:18 pm) [edit]"That Nadine, what a teenage queen
She lookin' so clean, especi'lly down in between; what I like
She come to town; she be foolin' around
a puttin' me down as a rock-and-roll clown
It's all right
Wang Dang Sweet Poontang"
- Ted Nugent
1.) Fucking cheap cayenne sauce. Gotta watch that shit.
2.) Go check out www.swanktrendz.com and read a little. The magnificent Christine has kindly put up a couple bits of my writing (including something I wrote here a couple years back called Fear & Loathing In West Chester, Ohio, which I'm still enormously proud of, despite the obvious huge debt to a certain HST whose shirt I'm wearing right now) and I hope we can do more of that. She rocks! Tell her so!
3.) Getting ready to take off for Indiana, won't be back until Monday. I haven't had the time to prepare for tomorrow's open mic the way I wanted to, but I'm bringing along the bass and various effects (delay and Whammy being the main ones) and I intend to get back into my low-rent Frippian ambient shit, which I've not done in far, far too long. And hey, maybe I'll get fucked-up drunk and sing Heartattack & Vine and The Piano Has Been Drinking (Not Me), gotta have hobbies, ya know...
4.) Weird week work-wise, right on the edge with bills piling up, but I remain hopeful. This stuff was killing my will to live for a while, but I ain't lettin' that shit happen no more, baby. Too much good stuff to live for these days.
5.) Supposedly I'm meeting up with D tonight. I expect nothing. Well, I expect my fucking arm to hurt, and that's it.
After working through the weirdness of splitting my attention between the one I love and the one I'm...uh...not with just yet...I feel better. The fact that the one I love is so cool and we're realistic helps. I wonder how she feels seeing me use the word "love" in her direction. It seems somewhat wrong given the circumstances, but I think she knows what I mean.
It's very weird to be heading north tonight, knowing where I'll be as opposed to where I want to be, but...this time is for me. I need this far too much to let it go.
God, I need a dick joke to pull me out of this hole I'm digging...
A little kid goes to his mom and says, "Where do babies come from?"
His mom says, "The stork brings them."
The kid says, "Oh yeah? And who fucks the stork?"
It's a lot funnier when Gilbert Gottfried tells it while doing his Seinfeld impersonation.
Have a good night, you fucks. With any luck, I might just have a damn good one myself.
Love,
Dougie
Drinking Music
12.28.06 (12:01 am) [edit]Here I am again in this mean old town
And you're so far away from me
And where are you when the sun goes down
You're so far away from me
So far away from me
So far I just can't see
So far away from me
You're so far away from me
I'm tired of being in love and being all alone
When you're so far away from me
I'm tired of making out on the telephone
And you're so far away from me
So far away from me
So far I just can't see
So far away from me
You're so far away from me
I get so tired when I have to explain
When you're so far away from me
See you been in the sun and I've been in the rain
And you're so far away from me
So far away from me
So far I just can't see
So far away from me
You're so far away from me
- Dire Straits
It Is To Laugh
12.27.06 (8:48 pm) [edit]
I think it was my friend mblog who sent me this, a long time ago. Ahhh, memories...
The Funk Is In My Trousers
12.27.06 (5:57 pm) [edit]"Every damn day I please u
What can I say Shakespeare hasn't said before?
Like an embryo baby
Don't abort this dire need 4 u
All my emotional ejaculate on the floor
And what's more, what's more
Your heavenly body, baby
I swear (I swear), I swear
I like it there
yeah"
- Prince
I'm in a mood tonight...
Fuckfuckfuck I wanna fuck,
Dougie
Someday
12.26.06 (11:03 pm) [edit]Rommel wore a ring on his finger
He only took it off when he flew his plane
Once he told me why
He said we all have to fly
Someday
We all have to fly
Someday.
TV preacher can't be bothered
With those petty things
He stays a step removed so they say
He's pipin' music in
We all have to sin
Someday
We all have to sin
Someday.
Workin' on that great Alaska pipeline
Many men were lost in the pipe
They went to fuelin' cars
How smog might turn to stars
Someday
Smog might turn to stars
Someday.
Hold me baby, put your arms around me
Give me all the love you have to give
Tomorrow won't be late
We won't have to wait
Someday
We won't have to wait
Someday
- Neil Young
I Feel So Hetero In This One...
12.26.06 (3:30 pm) [edit]
Trying to hit really high notes on GTO wearing THIS shirt? GAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!
Reindeer Poop!
12.26.06 (9:45 am) [edit]I've been looking for this for two weeks, and now that it's the day after Christmas, I finally run across it in a folder. I think I posted this a couple years ago, but here it is again, my kind of Christmas parody:
Screaming "Shit!", are you listening?
In the snow, I've been pissin'
A pathetic sight, me trying to put up the lights
Christmas is a big fat pain in the ass
Gone away is the extension cord,
Here to stay is seventeen tangled-together cords
I sing a GG Allin song,
As I string these fuckin' lights along,
Christmas is a big fat pain in the ass
In the meadow we can build an effigy
Then pretend that he is George W. Bush
He'll say: Are you safer?
We'll say: Hell no man!
Not with you near The Button ready to push
Later on, we'll conspire,
To burn down the malls in a great big fire
We'll drive unafriad
Less fucking holiday traffic we've made,
Christmas is a big fat pain in the ass.
In the attic we can mix rum and some egg nog (but mostly rum)
And pretend that we're Hunter Thompson
We'll scream, "The bats took all my presents!"
And feed adrenochrome to Santa 'til he falls down
Paris blows, ain't it thrillin',
Though your broadband bill, it is illin'
We'll stay indoors and pray this goddamn shitty weather will go away
Christmas is a big fat pain in the ass
And I Love Her
12.25.06 (11:43 pm) [edit]Hey, she introduced me to THIS:
My dick cost a late night fee
Your dick got the HIV
My dick plays on the double feature screen
Your dick went straight to DVD
My dick bigger than a bridge
Your dick look like a little kids
My dick large like the chargers (the whole team)
Your shit look like you fourteen
My dick locked in a cage (right)
Your dick suffer from stage fright
My dick so hot its stolen
Your dick look like Gary Coleman
My dick pink and big
Your dick stinks like shit
My dick got a Caesar doo,
Your dick needs a tweezer dude
My dick is like supersize
Your dick look like two fries
My dick more mass than the Earth
Your dick half staff (it needs work)
My dick been there done that
Your dick sits there with dunce cap
My dick, V.I.P.
Your shit needs I.D.
It's time that we let the world know
Dude, you gotta let your girl go
D.S. is the best in the business
P.s. we got dicks like Jesus
My dick need no introduction
Your dick don't even function
My dick served a whole lunch-in
Your dick, it look like a munchkin
My dick size of a pumpkin
Your dick look like Macauley Culkin
My dick good good lovin'
Your dick good for nothin'
My dick bench pressed 350
Your dick couldn’t shoplift at Thrifty
My dick pretty damn skimpy
Your dick hungry as a hippy
My dick don't fit down the chimney
Your dick is like a kid from the Philippines
My dick is like an M16
Your dick, broken vending machine
My dick parts the seas
Your dick farts and queefs
My dick rumble in the jungle
Your dick got touched by your uncle
My dick goes to yoga
Your dick fruit roll up
My dick grade a beef
Your dick made a geek
My dick sick and dangerous
Your dick quick and painless
My dick 'nuff said.
Your dick loves sweat
It's time that we let the world know
Dude, you gotta let your girl go
D.S. is the best in the business
P.s. we got dicks like Jesus
- Mickey Avalon
My dick, laughing its nuts off,
Dougie
I Pledge Allegiance...
12.25.06 (9:58 pm) [edit]www.extrafancy.net/doug/teenfucking.mp3
Listening to Bill Maher's New Rules audio book tonight while drinking and thinking thoughts miles away. And the above is still one of the funniest things he's ever written.
Your daughter's a whore,
Dougie
Fear
12.25.06 (7:51 pm) [edit]Learn to trust
Haven't so far
Paranoia reaches in too far
If silence is golden why do I feel so poor
If only you could be at this weathered door
If only I could rhyme without being a cheap whore
Nearly not near enough to nearly not be enough
Fuck
I'm short on luck
My rhymes suck
The picture burned to my two-dimensional medulla
It's swimming around in my boiling pot of stewla
I need you near
My rhymes need beer
Can't shake this fear
The temptation to believe I know I'm losing you
Happy Birthday, Jesus!
12.25.06 (8:47 am) [edit]Happy birthday dead Jew
Happy birthday dead Jew
Happy birthday dead Jesus
Happy birthday dead Jew
And 2000 more.
Love,
Dougie
-----------
RIP James Brown - I think of him at least once a gig. If you don't know why James was so important to so many of us, go get a best of CD and get down with yer bad self and figure it out. If this whole Heaven nonsense turns out to be true, Jesus is gettin' some fuckin' lessons in da funk from James right now.
It's A Long Way To The Top If You Wanna Rock & Roll
12.24.06 (11:38 pm) [edit]"She comes in colors everywhere;
She combs her hair
She's like a rainbow
Coming, colors in the air
Oh, everywhere
She comes in colors"
- The Rolling Stones
"I long to see you in the morning light
I long to reach for you in the night
Stay, lady, stay, stay while the night is still ahead"
- Bob Dylan
"My kielbasa sausage has just got to perform."
- Tenacious D
Chicago Transit Authority making me smile tonight.
I have serious inspiration flowing through my veins. She puts it there. I can't be there, I'm not able to be everywhere, but I am VERY much here. Alive in the moment. A beautiful, inspiring, perceptive, funny, and unspeakably cool and knowing young lady is beaming light on me from miles away. I feel like Pete Townshend tonight - I CAN see for miles and miles when she's fully in my heart and mind. I like the view from here. The situation we face is not conducive to a relationship that can really develop, but I love her. In whatever way it is that I can from this place, I love her in ways I thought had escaped me.
My speakers are asking me if anybody really knows what time it is. Yeah, I do, motherfuckers. It's time to burn, to love, to rock and groove and live and laugh and dream. FUCK time. The little dance of electrons we call our universe provides us with all we need to soar. If only we grab ahold and escape from our bullshit.
My own bullshit is legion. Tonight I choose to point fingers and laugh at it. Hey, bullshit! EAT me, you big ol' pile o' poo! You ain't the boss of me! Nanananabooboofuckitypoo! Wheeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!
"When I'm with you, it doesn't matter where we are."
I'll start with 1AM. This morning. After the gig. More on that later.
Friday, while driving around wondering what was up with...uh...who was that again? Oh yeah, D. Whateva.
Anyway, while much more important things were happening inside me, I made my way to the bar I mentioned before and stood outside with an old friend who owns the place.
I told him I'd try to go back and check out the open mic night. He told me to get back with him on doing a solo gig there.
Saturday (well, 1AM this very Sunday), I was about done helping the band load up when I remembered my promise.
He's on the town square. Few people are left there, most of the business being down out on the main drag across town. i now teach across from him. The building I used to teach in on the square is gone, torn down a couple months ago. The flood of memories that brought on, seeing that empty space...formative years they were.
I had no idea just what I was in for, probably because this place has no right to EXIST in the town I grew up in and spent thirty years wanting to escape from.
Heaven. Or an approximation thereof. I think I know where Heaven's bar and stage are located. They've got good beer and their own PA.
I intended to do the few songs I can remember the words to without my lyric sheets. Later, I ran out to the car to get them, and I played for well over an hour. The first true solo gig I've done since summer of 2000.
What a long strange trip it's been.
I don't know what it's like every night there, but the late Saturday crowd of maybe 8 people had turned the place into some kind of left-wing hippie dream clinic. I was in shock. Grateful to be there. Kinda drunk.
I did a few normal things. Some Neil Young. Bang A Gong (which I've made my own by now.) A pretty crappy version of ELP's Lucky Man that stood in stark contrast to the excellent version I did in my solo spot at the band's gig.
Then things took a turn.
T asked if the guy who ran sound could come up and play trombone with me.
Trombone.
We did Lawyers Guns & Money first.
Nothing, I mean NOTHING could prepare me for the feeling of performing a Warren Zevon song with a trombone behind me.
Or for the beautiful reaction from my small but wonderful audience.
Somebody yelled for more Neil. I dropped my low E to D as the blonde woman down front (more on that soon) screamed for Cinnamon Girl. So I dropped both Es, and played Cinnamon Girl and The Loner.
With a trombone.
I'm gonna push it farther. "Stay in D."
When I finished the next song, I told them they'd just heard Get Behind The Mule by Tom Waits. They knew who he was. THAT alone, in the repressed bullshit Republican town of my youth...incredible.
I felt myself turning into what I see in Keneally's face when he plays for the kind of crowds I've been lucky enough to be in over a dozen times now. Mike has powers and skills far, far beyond mine, but what drew me to him in that heady fall of '98 was his humility, his sense of awe at there being an audience for what he does, his desire to give back the love he got from us.
It makes me almost cry tears of joy thinking back.
The acceptance I felt from this small group of people was almost overwhelming. I thanked them after each song for their applause. I felt it was entirely unwarranted, but after enough of it, I knew I was doing what I am here to do - give back the love.
The road towards finding confidence and my own space musically has been long and full of weirdness and pain. It goes on. But last night, with the love I feel for Abby as my engine, I was picked up and carried farther down that road by these kind and exceptional people.
I came into music the way most do, simply for a love of music in and of itself. I spent a long time being very insular and not giving two shits about who heard it or how it connected to the real world. That was necessary as a means to find my voice (which I'm still doing, and I think that's true even of the Keneallys in this world, the process does not end) and those formative years as some kind of art snob prick were vital.
But in the past year and a half, I've learned to connect music with my own life experience. And I've begun to understand what it means to not only have an audience, but an audience that appreciates you. You feed from that, and you learn to give back.
That's the reason to be a musician. Not the shit I was thinking of sitting alone in my room learning Geddy Lee's bass parts.
They let me cut loose, and I only really hinted at what I want to achieve with this little solo thing, because I'm so far removed from where I was when I started it in late '98 and wasn't sure what I could get away with. But they were willing to buy the ticket and take the ride, so I rode.
I dug through my lyric sheets.
"I'm gonna do a little spoken word piece for you kind people. This is another Tom Waits thing."
What's he building in there?
What the hell is he building
In there?
He has subscriptions to those
Magazines... He never
Waves when he goes by
He's hiding something from
The rest of us... He's all
To himself... I think I know
Why... He took down the
Tire swing from the Peppertree
He has no children of his
Own you see... He has no dog
And he has no friends and
His lawn is dying... and
What about all those packages
He sends. What's he building in there?
With that hook light
On the stairs. What's he building
In there... I'll tell you one thing
He's not building a playhouse for
The children
What's he building
In there?
Now what's that sound from under the door?
He's pounding nails into a
Hardwood floor... and I
Swear to god I heard someone
Moaning low... and I keep
Seeing the blue light of a
T.V. show...
He has a router
And a table saw... and you
Won't believe what Mr. Sticha saw
There's poison underneath the sink
Of course... But there's also
Enough formaldehyde to choke
A horse... What's he building
In there. What the hell is he
Building in there? I heard he
Has an ex-wife in some place
Called Mayors Income, Tennessee
And he used to have a
consulting business in Indonesia...
but what is he building in there?
What the hell is building in there?
He has no friends
But he gets a lot of mail
I'll bet he spent a little
Time in jail...
I heard he was up on the
Roof last night
Signaling with a flashlight
And what's that tune he's
Always whistling...
What's he building in there?
What's he building in there?
We have a right to know...
It KILLED.
T had introduced me very kindly, remembering the few bass lessons I'd given him in his old photography studio, and the gig we did in 1999 for Rock The Vote. I've mentioned it before - probably the most pure expression of what I want to be as a solo performer as I've ever done before last night.
So I whipped out one I'd done there. A guitar/vocal arrangment of Pink Floyd's Pigs (Three Different Ones).
Freedom. God, I'm feeling such freedom up here...
They were singing along. THEY WERE SINGING ALONG.
The blonde yelled out at me when I was done. "I love you!"
"Oh yeah? Then let's FUCK."
I've waited years to use that line...
"I will if you play me the right song!"
Let it not be said that Dougie is not up for a challenge.
I dived for my lyric sheets and made a show of trying frantically to find her the right song. Dear God, the right song! It must be in here! Must...find...right song..so...fucking may...commence...SPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK!!! !!!
Work the crowd, man. Work that crowd. I'm learning how.
So I sang her one of the best things George Harrison ever wrote, from my favorite Beatle album.
My brain split in two down a rough edge as I tried to make this woman happy while the woman I actually love suddenly came back to me, her face before me as I sang...
Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover...
It wasn't the right song. SHITFUCKY!
But when I got done, I got a nice reward.
My pay for the night consisted of a free Newcastle, a free Woodchuck Amber Cider, and three glorious tastes of more heaven.
She kissed me.
I loved the look in her eyes when she leaned into me. Very pretty blonde, maybe around my age or a bit younger, thick-rimmed granny glasses. I like that kind of hippie geek-girl vibe.
She paid me some incredible compliments, and when she came to me with those lips, it was if she was saying, "This is all you're getting, but I am very happy to give it all I've got for you, because you made me feel good tonight."
Gawd, why did it take me so long to get to this point?
The first kiss was more of a shock than anything. I looked back into her eyes, and figured fuck it, I'm going back for seconds.
The second kiss shot fire through me, lit my entire molecular structure up like a fuckin' Christmas tree. You know that stupid cliche in all the songs about "lips like wine"? Well, some cliches are based in truth. And the intoxication was powerful.
Then I went to talk to T and try to work through in my head the feeling of kissing this woman I'd never met with the fact that I only got it to begin with because of somebody so much more important to me.
After ten minutes, I was ready to take off (holy fuckin' Jeezus, it;s almost 3AM) and I knew I was pushing my luck, but I wondered if three times would be a charm.
She was quite willing.
OK, she was drunk and so was I. Let's inject some fucking honesty into this.
I felt her lips on mine for hours afterwards, even when I awoke from what little sleep I got.
And wanted them to have been somebody else's.
But I'm in the moment, and thankful for what is happening to me and for me. I crave experience and depth of emotion. And I'm fucking getting it.
I had a five-way chili and water at Steak & Shake and made it back to my parents' at 4AM.
_______________________
A Bridge Over Troubled Watered-Down Beer
Friday night was weird. I had to work through a lot of things, a lot of feelings. I managed to be stood up by one woman, feel terrible guilt over another, and then be a rotten asshole to another, leading to more guilt, and very deserved guilt at that.
I drove around a lot. Went to our new second-favorite place to play, and had a plate of killer nachos and good beer, talking to the woman who runs the place, who loves the band and is a great lady who has gone through some SHIT in the last year. Crushed her collarbone in a car accident, watched her son become very sick and in need of constant hospital care, and nearly lost her bar because of Indiana's idiotic and inconsistent gambling laws.
She's kept herself strong. And she's got a mane of thick blonde hair that you could lose yourself in immediately.
More driving around, eventually to the bar from the above story for my initial meeting with T, and then to the bar where the band is playing in two weeks, owned by one of our biggest fans, who takes ads out in the paper proclaiming us the best band in the county.
I had a beer and witnessed an awesome and powerful display of UNBRIDLED KARAOKE WHITENESS. The absolute worst vocal performances in the history of the cosmos. You cannot possibly NOT take the extra time to sit there and marvel at the Lovecraftian horror for a while, just to catalog the experience, but you also can't stay for long, lest your brain be sucked out your ears and deposited into a glass of Miller Lite.
There's something freeing and liberating about pissing on an outside wall next to your car.
Eventually I found my way back to my parents', where I'd had no intention of spending the night. But my daughter was there, and I needed to go back.
I talked to my love while standing in the driveway. I was in oversensitive douchebag mode. But she playfully stuck a needle in my pretense-balloon and brought me back down to earth, and gave me another reason to love her. I went from terrible fear of losing her to laughing with her, very quickly.
When I awoke and saw that she texted me obscure Simon & Garfunkel lyrics later in the night, I nearly died and rose again. I bragged about you and your coolness to my band, honey. You are a wonder and a machine of awe-inspiration.
I also had to deal with my own stupidity later, but you've read the apology below. If you haven't, you'll see it under this post.
I've made a lot of internal progress in recent months, but it's still mostly been about ME. Taking better care of ME. I've not done good at taking care of others, unless it's Katie or something connected with the music.
I've been a real bag of shit to people who do not deserve it, and for that I have to atone.
I realize that while on one level I've done good at repairing past damage, a very bad part of me takes great pleasure in hurting people I care for if I percieve hostility on their end. And believe me, nobody is more hostile than myself once these things get started. I am a vicious cunt.
I have to change that. There is no need for that. I've barely even begun that process.
I'm hoping the spirit of my performance last night will invade my dealings with people closer to me, and I will learn more about giving back. Because I'm not worth a tin shit at that right now with certain people.
I'm out of energy to write more. I had a wonderful time with Katie, with the band, and both at once when she ran around like a nut, dancing to us for the hour she was there. That made my night. John Zorn's The Circle Maker is making my way towards bedtime. Nothing like good Jew jazz on a Christmas eve, eh?
Forward,
Dougie
Ash Baskets, Behind You
12.24.06 (9:19 pm) [edit]the taste of your face in the place i maced
is friggin' with the stiggin' of my riggin and mind
nowhere to be found but in the electric prune underground
i could never have too much to dream of you
Halt!
power and gory details of the story that i lay before myself each mourn the other
to feel to know the retinas that glow from my monitor thermometer temperature rise like the fool between my thighs
when i taste you from afar
damndamndamn i play dead paul's ram and dream of the backseat, the whackmeat, the flackstreet, the dank wretched waste of my soul, the hole, you fill with your wonderous taste
love
i know
Apology
12.24.06 (7:22 pm) [edit]Since she wrote about it on her blog, I'll take the time to do this too.
Something really bad and unnecessary happened a couple nights ago between me and my ex-wife, and I feel like utter shit for my part in it, and how vicious I was to her. Whatever issues we may still have between us, I was just wrong, more wrong than I could have realized if it hadn't been for this happening the way it did.
I feel the months we've spent building a better relationship in the interest of our daughter were undone in mere minutes, and that should never have happened.
I'm very sorry, Sheryl. You do not deserve what I threw at you. And I hope you don't leave tblog, because my stupidity is not worth that. You are an incredibly kind and warm person, very funny and intelligent, and I do not treat you accordingly. You are also the most amazing mother I can imagine, and when I look at our girl, I know that she'd never be who she is without the goodness you bring to her.
I apologize. And I hope we can adjust our attitudes towards each other - once again, most of the work needing to be done here on my end - and put this behind us. If not for ourselves, at least for her sake.
Doug
I Want To Be There
12.23.06 (5:20 pm) [edit]The band is about to go on a surge of learning new material. A suggested one of my favorite Beatles songs (though it's gonna be a bitch for us to pull off) but I don't think he knows how apporpriate this one is for me personally.
To lead a better life,
I need my love to be here.
Here, making each day of the year
Changing my life with a wave of her hand
Nobody can deny that there's something there.
There, running my hands through her hair
Both of us thinking how good it can be
Someone is speaking but she doesn't know he's there.
I want her everywhere
and if she's beside me I know I need never care.
But to love her is to need her
Everywhere, knowing that love is to share
each one believing that love never dies
watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there.
I want her everywhere
and if she's beside me I know I need never care.
But to love her is to need her.
Everywhere, knowing that love is to share
each one believing that love never dies
watching her eyes and hoping I'm always there.
I will be there, and everywhere.
Here, there and everywhere.
Love,
Dougie
They Call Me Baby Driver
12.23.06 (9:30 am) [edit]"Ahhh, seasons change with the scenery
Weaving time in a tapestry
Wont you stop and remember me
At any convenient time
Funny how my memory slips while looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme
Drinking my vodka and lime"
- Simon & Garfunkel
Re: The new one - her ex screwed us up at the last moment and she was stuck home with her daughter. We're trying again tonight.
My head is elsewhere and I couldn't care less what happens tonight. I realized a few things last night - a.) I shoot between taking nothing seriously enough and taking myself entirely TOO seriously far too quickly, b.) I derive far too much pleasure from hurting certain people close to me and I'm a PRICK, and c.) I want a road trip west.
I'm falling in love, I think. You are too cool, honey.
I wonder how your engine feels,
Dougie
Somehow Shit Always Works Out
12.23.06 (12:11 am) [edit]I'll tell the rest of tonight's story later (seeing as how it might be continued tomorrow) but mostly I'm just happy that my paranoia and guilt was unfounded. Thanks, Abby. I feel good now. I got a nice reminder of who is more important to me and why.
I'm seriously reconsidering what I write here anymore. It occured to me this morning just how quickly I painted myself into a corner this week. You'd think I'd noticed sooner.......
I'm gonna get really drunk now. You fuckers have a good night. I think I actually will too.
Tomorrow is another day,
Dougie
Off To See The Wizard
12.22.06 (12:22 pm) [edit]First:
Those of you who enjoy the numerous Doug Stanhope quotes I put up here (and my posts have been laced with things lifted right off him for months , he's quite honestly my favorite comedian alive right now) should get your disgusting vile asses over to www.dougstanhope.com and place your order for the CD/DVD of Deadbeat Hero. If you order before Dec. 25th, it's only five bucks plus shipping. The Baby Jesus would want you to!
And now, I prepare to hit the road.
Crotch-driven anticipation and long-distance guilt make for one strange fuckin' gumbo, boys and girls.
Dear sweet baby fuckin' nailed-up Jesus, let this night come out well.
See you fuckers on the other side.
Love,
Dougie
Myspace Is So Fuckin' Funny Sometimes
12.22.06 (8:22 am) [edit]I get stupid shit like this six times a day. I never get women in REAL LIFE coming up to me like this six times a day, just online. Wouldn't that be great? Standing in line at the store and some killer hot Taylor Rain-esque babe comes up, "I just saw the way you picked out that tomato you are buying, and I thought I'd come over here and talk, because you are obviously a wonderful man i can spend the rest of my life with and have all the qualities I ever looked for, and would you like me to suck your cock now? Oh, give me $24.99 out of that grocery change and you can have these pictures."
Hello
My name is (like it matters). I need a matured man like you who know how to love and care for young Lady like me. Actually, i saw your pic and i really felt i should contact you. May be you will be the kind of man i am looking for. I will really love to have you as mine and only one to be. I really need a man who is caring, understanding, compassionate, loving, nice, faithful and God fearing. I strongly believe you should have all those qualities listed. This is my yahoo Im (slutbagwhorefacecuntspra ylyingpieceofshit). you can contact me so we can chat and get to know each other.
Hope to hear from you soon.
Yep, GOD-FEARING. There's a quality you need to have before you check out their page and pull the credit card out. Lots of God-fearing folk lookin' for pussy online. These are times I wish there WAS a God, just so he could pull a Sodom & Gomorrah over at the house of the one stupid motherfucker who sends out these messages at random using 30 different user names. How much ya wanna bet it's some fat guy like me?
Or maybe it's Stanhope. Come to think of it, now I get it. Excuse me while I go create thirty different profiles with pics I stole from a porn site and fuck mercilessly with fat guys who can't get laid.
This will be my message.
Hello
I saw your stinking repulsive picture on your profile and thought to myself, "This is the kind of man I want to cornhole me in the back of an alley after I score some junk." You have all the qualities I look for in a man - shallowness, emptiness, lack of moral fiber, carpal tunnel syndrome from constantly jacking off to pictures of girls you could not possibly ever get in the sack. I think you are the man of my dreams, or at least a few nightmares about blubbering idiots sweating and drooling on me from behind. My corn-chute is anxiously awaiting your disease-riddled loving. Come to my page and click on my link and give me money, and maybe someday I'll show up at your front doorstep and kick you in the balls while your wife screams "Who is this whore, Delbert???" and calls the cops. Have a nice night, sweetykins. Love, Barbie.
Why am I caring about this shit right now at 8AM? In 11 hours, I'm getting laid! WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Love (and special sauce), Dougie
Ol' Bill Shakespeare (AKA Between My Cock & A Hard Place)
12.21.06 (11:01 pm) [edit]Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust,
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight,
Past reason hunted, and no sooner had
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait
On purpose laid to make the taker mad;
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
It Comes To This
12.21.06 (9:28 pm) [edit]Stressing over the resting I need to be doing
While I make plans for tomorrow's games
It's incomprehensible, I followed my senses 'til
I ended up calling out two names
Not what I thought would ever make my chest flood
With sixteen varieties of emotional flames
Those hundreds of miles are making my new smiles
Seem so selfish, but I must remain
Forward
On the trail forward
Cut the switch and took it to the nearest tree
Not very good at seeing anyone's destination, you see
If I could carry you down that path of most resistance
I would, but you're nowhere near to me
Make mine a double tonight, I feel trouble that might
Be brewing in two distant hearts
God, if I could see you now, I'd never even one time allow
The pain I know i've created
Give me time, give me room, I've tried to give it to you
We both have much learning, even through this forbidden yearning
And I'll never take my eyes far from you
Forward
We're both stumbling forward
I love you, Abby.
Doug
Mr. Soul Gets Behind The Mule
12.21.06 (8:57 pm) [edit]www.extrafancy.net/doug/soul-mule.mp3
I just spent a while recording with no thought of the end results, and finished with this - a cross between Neil Young's Mr. Soul and Tom Waits' Get Behind The Mule. It's just short of 12 minutes long, so I made it a smaller bitrate to get it down to an 8 meg download. It's raw and imperfect, but it's me on this dark drunken night, and i hope you like it.
Dougie
--------------
I've been expending a lot of aggression tonight. A new mail just brought it all back, the frustration I feel at not being with the one I REALLY want to be with. I'm looking forward to tomorrow a FUCK of a lot. But my heart is still 900 miles away. You know that, honey. I know you do. God DAMN, I never thought I'd be in this position. But I have to live for now. Fuck knows I have to.
Get Off My Cloud
12.21.06 (5:48 pm) [edit]"I've been saving it up, yeah, saving it up..." - Mike Keneally
How the FUCK am I gonna keep from jerking off in an attempt to make tomorrow night that much better when she keeps sending these emails about how much she wants me?
Twenty-six hours..................................
Un-fuck-believable. I am floored. My brain isn't like a sieve tonight, it's like a BROKEN THING. Snapped in two by the things she says to me, the power of this woman's desire for ME. Stupid dumbass me. Gawd, she is in for SUCH disappointment when she discovers how much of a prick I can be........
But not in bed, dammit. Not there. it overflows me with fucking rage to know that this girl has only ever been with men who didn't give her back a FRACTION of the effort she gave to them in bed. She comes off like a CRAZED COCK-ADDICT who does everything possible to please her man. Nobody has done shit for her.
I suck at a lot of things. I blew my marriage all to hell, I've been a MASSIVE failure at most of the things I was supposed to do for the few women who took the time to care about me, and I still feel like a FUCKHEAD because of it. I've got a LOT of work to do.
But goddamn it, at least give it a shot in the sack, guys. What the fuck? I'm probably not all that great in bed, but I fucking TRY. Seems most of you fuckers just drop yer load in the cum dumpster and move on. ASSHOLES. Get that woman off. She was nice enough to fuck and suck YOUR sorry self, return the goddamn favor, shitheads.
I'm on your side, ladies. But don't think I'm letting you off easy either. Women who don't give head - what the fuck is YOUR problem??? It cuts both ways, motherfuckers. Do every goddamn nasty dirty filthy sinful delicious thing to your partners you can, or SHUT THE FUCK UP.
She's 29. And I get to munch on that first. The sense of being on A MISSION FROM GOD is almost overwhelming. Oh....I am gonna make this girl COME, goddammit, or spend four hours digging through my toolbox TRYING to find a way. This is IMPORTANT. I've got some serious making up for past failures to do, and since I haven't figured out yet how to be worth a damn at anything else, I'm gonna SUCK THAT PUSSY.
Call me shallow at your own peril. I want to ROCK THIS GIRL'S WORLD. After the last week, I'm convinced she totally deserves it.
And she wants to rock mine. Holy shit. Unfathomable. Insane. Dear Jesus, please, whatever drugs she is on, do NOT let them wear off until Saturday. Let's MAINTAIN THE ILLUSION of my rockin' power a little longer, Lord. YOU know I'm an idiot, *I* know I am. Let's just not let her onto it until I come, OK? I NEED this like a guy stuck in the desert with broken legs needs a drink of water. I am gonna SNAP if I don't fuck soon. You better help me out here, Lord, because if you don't, you're gonna have ME on your hands.
I need to stop talking to my family.
Everyone gets so forward-thinking all of a sudden. Why do I bother to tell them ANYTHING? I alreayd KNOW they're gonna say stupid shit that will make me want to break things, why do I keep going back like an Alzheimer's patient and expecting them NOT to be fools?
"Oh, she might be the one." "Oh, she might be just what you need." "Maybe this will last." "Maybe you can settle down again." "Maybe you can have more kids."
Maybe you can SHUT THE FUCK UP.
Jesus creeping shit, I haven't even FUCKED her yet. We've done almost NOTHING. For all I know, tomorrow might implode on itself and NOTHING WILL COME OF THIS AT ALL. Least of all me.
Why are people such douchebags?
I'm trying to simply enjoy the feeling from day to day right now. I almost don't care WHAT happens, because I'm in the moment right now, which is where I NEED to be. I HATE micro-managing paranoid shitheads who "plan" for shit they ultimately have little or no control over and have no business planning for in the first place.
"Oh, she might be perfect for you." Then I will RUN. I do NOT want that right now. Anyone "perfect" is gonna be so totally FUCKED if they waste their time on me right now, it's not even funny. Christ, what is up with you people?
They want me to be married and boring and living the same stupid idiot noneventful life they are, because THAT IS ALL THEY KNOW.
Fuck them.
Republicans in the audience, I have a great idea for you. You're the ones really into stupid laws about marriage, I've got a REALLY stupid one for you that is ultimately more realistic than the shit you've got now:
NOBODY SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO MARRY UNTIL THEY ARE SIXTY YEARS OLD.
Nobody. Queers, straight, people who like to fuck the lawnmower, NOBODY.
Think about it. Marriage is about love and commitment and spending your life with someone and never fucking anyone else ever again.
Who the fuck under age 60 needs THAT kind of shit?
It's unnatural. It's WRONG. It's a plot cooked up by women in the Catholic church to stamp out oral sex.
OK, I stole that last line from Bill Maher. Sue me.
Stanhope's rants on this are right on the mark - if marriage didn't exist, would you invent it? "Baby, this thing we've got is so powerful, we've gotta get the GOVERNMENT involved!" Promising somebody to love them forever is like promising to be LUCKY forever. It MAKES NO SENSE. There's nothing wrong with giving it a shot and seeing what happens, more power to ya if you can make it work, but why put it on PAPER and make it into a LEGAL thing? That's outdated religious horseshit thinking, people. It's FUCKING STUPID. There is NO reason to go through all the stupid bullshit paperwork just to give some weird legitimacy to LOVE. Why invite lawyers into love? Yeah, love each other, maybe give it a shot at lasting for the restof your lives if that is what you really feel can happen, but STOP THE PRETEND SHIT.
You know who is most offended at what I just said? WOMEN. I guaran-fucking-tee it.
Oh, you LOVED it when I ranted about guys who don't eat pussy, but NOW I'm an asshole! Yeah, I see how it works, ladies...
I've got this maybe six times in the last month. When am I gonna find a nice girl and get married again?
Three answers:
1.) Until Saturday, I couldn't find a woman within 900 miles to GIVE ME THE TIME OF DAY. Let's take this shit one thing at a time, OK, assholes?
2.) I'd rather CHEW MY OWN DICK OFF than get married again and run the risk of fucking up as bad as I did the first time.
3.) I don't WANT a nice girl. I want a COCK-CRAZED NYMPHO who is a cross between a woman and an industrial vacuum cleaner.
And, against all odds, I might just be getting number three tomorrow night. I don't fucking believe it.
I am riding a wave here, a cloud. This past week has been intensely amazing, and I havne't even touched her yet. The promise of what awaits me tomorrow night has me about to lose my mind. It almost doens't even matter if something comes along and fucks it all apart. I LOVE the shit I'm feeling right now, I don't give a SHIT about long-term planning at this point in my life, I have no REASON to, and anyone who tries to come up here and fuck with my ride is getting knocked right the fuck upside the head.
Hey you, get offa my cloud.
Love,
Dougie
Serious Question For The Ladies
12.21.06 (2:31 pm) [edit]"Are there actually women who do not like to give blowjobs?" - Bill Hicks
OK, I just put that there to distract you. I'm gonna be serious now.
Orange rose. What do you think? I looked this up, and apparantly this is supposed to represent passion. I don't want the "love" ones (red, pink) because let's face it, I've actualy TALKED to this woman in person less than 15 minutes my whole life. This ain't about love, and (thank you Jeezus) she seems to be almost exactly on the same page I am.
This is about FUCKING right now. Other stuff can be put on hold.
Still, I want her to feel special (any woman insane enough to want to fuck me IS special, I say) and I want to TRY to be romantic. I'm not good at that. I can hold it togehter for about 10 minutes then I'm tossing seafood jokes around in my head, because that's the way I'm wired, goddammit. But I TRY.
Anyway, I thought a nice card ("Roses are red, violets are blue, Holy fuckin' shit, I wanna fuck you" probably not being the best, though certainly the most obvious choice here) and an orange rose.
What do you think?
OK, I wasn't as serious as I could have been....
Love,
Dougie
And Then Paranoia Sets In
12.21.06 (8:36 am) [edit]"Finished with my woman
'cause she couldn't help me with my mind"
- Black Sabbath
"Well I’m standing here freezing
Inside your golden garden
Got my ladder leaned up against your wall
Tonight’s the night we planed to run away together
Come on Dolly May there’s no time to stall
But now you’re telling me that a
I think we better wait ’till tomorrow
What you say
I think we better wait ’till tomorrow
Ain’t gonna wait that long
I think we better wait ’till tomorrow"
- Jimi Hendrix
Audio: www.extrafancy.net/doug/paranoia.mp3
A week is a long fucking time to wait for anything. Ever sit in traffic so long you become convinced that you will never get there just because you've been there so long the place you're heading to has probably been destroyed by NUCLEAR HOLOCAUST in the time you've sat in fucking goddamn shiteating cocksucking motherfucking cuntcuntcuntcuncunt TRAFFIC???
I'm starting to get The Fear. She won't show up. Or she'll call and say she's reconsidered and she'd rather fuck the drummer. Or her town of 1000 people will be blown off the map by Al-Queda, because after all, that's the places that have all the duct tape and plastic sheeting and those darn terrorists are just looking to blow the shit out of places nobody has heard of.
Or maybe she has a dick.
Hell, like I'd even care anymore I'm so fucking crazed with fuck-cravings.
Tomorrow. Gotta wait 'til tomorrow...
Love,
Dougie
-------------
Later:
She has a way of being reassuring...mmmmmm.....
Gone Fishin'
12.20.06 (11:17 am) [edit] "Grabbed a tuna salad sandwich
And i started to chew
Pretty soon Ler's yellin'
Fish on, fish on"
- Les Claypool
I might be working tomorrow. I'm on a list for a one-day shipping gig, getting stuff ready to go UPS. I've done a lot of that kind of thing already in the last year or so, so hopefully they'll call. I need to get ONE day in just to pay child support.
The next couple weeks are going to be very strained financially. But other good stuff is happening. Oh yeah....
From just talking to her, I think i've met the girl Prince writes all his songs about. Fuckin' wow, man. This girl...mmmmmm....I wanna taste you.....
Speaking of quality seafood, I just had some mussels. (I'm so good at this transitional shit, eh?) A frozen brand called Bantry Bay Seafoods from Ireland. In a garlic butter sauce. I got them because they were on sale, and damn it was good. Nothing like the killer mussels I ate at the Claddagh a while back, but pretty fuckin' good. A bowl of clam chowder and a can of PBR, and my early lunch was a-rockin'.
Huhuhuh, "seafood", huhuhuh.
Love,
Dougie
Knockin' At Your Back Door
12.20.06 (8:56 am) [edit]"I can't deny it
With that smile on her face
It's not the kill
It's the thrill of the chase"
- Deep Purple
Yeah, well I think the kill is gonna be pretty fuckin' good too, Ian.
Just the sound of her voice makes me into a fucking crazed animal.
I keep nearly jumping into the car to go up there and pull her from her desk and ravage her right on the floor.
I've waited a long fucking time for this. My reward is a woman who wants me even more than I do her.
Two days, baby. Two fuckin' days.
Love,
Dougie
My Hero
12.20.06 (12:20 am) [edit]From a myspace bulletin from Stanhope to all his friends:
Just a break from promoting or ball busting or drunken rambling to say thanks.
Between the internet and satellite radio, it's becoming less soul-torturing to what I do.
And its you rotten fucks that understand it that make it all ok.
I'm proud to be one of those rotten fucks.It's almost touching to know that I get to be part of what make's this stupid fucker's life worth living.
I'm gonna get sooooo fucking drunk and follow him around when he comes to Cincy in Feburary.
Dougie
drunk
12.19.06 (11:44 pm) [edit]you let me violate you, you let me desecrate you
you let me penetrate you, you let me complicate you
help me I broke apart my insides, help me I’ve got no soul to sell
help me the only thing that works for me, help me get away from myself
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god
you can have my isolation, you can have the hate that it brings
you can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything
help me tear down my reason, help me it's your sex I can smell
help me you make me perfect, help me become somebody else
I want to fuck you like an animal
I want to feel you from the inside
I want to fuck you like an animal
my whole existence is flawed
you get me closer to god
through every forest, above the trees
within my stomach, scraped off my knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
you are the reason I stay alive
Fucking Sprint Csn BLOW Me
12.19.06 (11:37 pm) [edit]Something is wrong with my phone tonight.
I JSUT SPENT HALF AN HOUR TALKIGN TOHER, BARELY ABLE TO HEAR HER.
i AM FULL OF DESIRE, FULL OF the sedires to make her happy.
i know she can make me happy. I want to return thef favor.
Like an animal.
Dougie
Conflict
12.19.06 (9:18 pm) [edit]"I'm amazed I'm still funny. Because I'm in LOVE. I'm in love! Yes, I am. And there is nothing, nothing ends a comedian's career quicker than regular sex and being in love, it's the worst thing on the planet. And it's YOUR worst entertainment dollar. You don't want to see some happy comedian onstage going "Hey folks, Bush is a sociopath and we're all on the edge of Armageddon, but you know what makes it all better? Snugglin'! Come on people, who likes to snuggle? Wheeeeeee!!!!'" - Patton Oswalt
Hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces of a Guinness pint glass are strewn across my bedroom floor.
Some people in my life would make me feel guilty about this. FUCK them.
I knocked over a boilermaker of PBR and Old Crow trying to cut and paste the lyrics of a Roy ORbison song into a new post.
I feel incredible things towards a new person. A new live and breathing woman who wants me and needs me, and is waiting for me to rock her fucking world.
And I feel things for someone a day's drive away. Who has meant more to me than she'll ever know.
I hate feeling this way, but I LOVE it at the same time. I live for these moments. Between a rock and a hard place, just like one of my favorite things that cheesehead Sting ever wrote about.
I have a new love, a new desire. But I'll never forget ANY of the women who came before. Least of all you, Abby. Never will I forget you. I'd give my soul to a non-existant Devil Himself just to fly those 900 miles to be with you right now.
And her. And every other woman who ever gave me the time of day. I aim to please. I tend to fire my salvo far off the mark, I often end up far, far away from the target I was trying to hit, but i TRIED, goddammit. I fucking TRIED.
I've loved a lot of women in my 36 years. I've ended up letting all of them down. But I never, ever forget them.
Jesus creeping shit, I'm drunk right now.
Love,.
Dougie
My Incredible Daughter
12.19.06 (8:09 pm) [edit]
I just stole this from Sheryl's blog. I'm amazed that I had anything to do with this beautiful girl being on this planet.
She's Got The Power
12.19.06 (1:27 pm) [edit]"I wanna fuck you like an animal
I wanna feel you from the inside
I wanna fuck you like an animal
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God"
- Nine Inch Nails
I am filled with the most intense crazed cravings right now. We are animals, boys and girls. Our attempts to civilize ourselves do NOT change that.
I wanna run free in the animal kingdom with this woman. The way our conversations are going, I think Mutual Of Omaha ain't gonna have SHIT on us Friday night.
Amazing. Incredible. A little scary. I love the shit I'm feeling right now. Boy, oh boy, do I fucking love it.
Lust,
Dougie
And If You Can't Be With The One You Love.............................
12.18.06 (11:59 pm) [edit]Fucking Stephen Stills in the noggin now...
Audio of two posts ago is here:
www.extrafancy.net/doug/newpost.mp3
She's destroying my will to sit still. I want to drive up there NOW and facially assault her labia.
I could have drilled a hole through my guitar with my cock tonight while talking to her. The fact that she was just as ready for me, and maybe even more so....I don't fucking believe it.
I am faced with a very strange dilemma for the next gig - ever since rejoining the band, I have been much more active onstage, much more demonstrative about how much I enjoy playing. It gets commented on often.
But the last several months have been built on one simple thing - the powerful desire I've felt for girl half my age 900 miles away.
My entire onstage persona, even the songs I sing and the riffs I stick under songs they don't belong in - it's all about her. We all know who she is, I'll just say it - Abby, daytripper7 - you have been the fire under my ass for a long fucking time now.
I owe you one, sweetheart. Goddamn, do I ever owe you one. Because of you, because of the way you've helped rebuild my confidence, and the way you've inspired me in the last year - because of that, someone who is actually close enough to be with is fucking crazy about me right now.
I have no idea how I'm going to work my way through that when I play in front of her Saturday night, but here it is - I'm finally getting something I need really fucking bad, but it's happening - as everything does - differently than I'd planned.
I'm really goddamn happy tonight. Shocked. in utter awe. Feeling a little sensitive about someone very special to me who can't be here. But really goddamn happy.
You'll always be special to me, darling. No matter what.
Love,
Dougie
fv0ru043fio;fk094umvg05;vgerf,a (Slight Return)
12.18.06 (5:44 pm) [edit]"Ladies, don't EVER stick with a guy that won't go down on you. Guys who don't lick pussy have bad genes, and will give you weak children with soft heads." - Joe Rogan
I've got Are You Gonna Be My Girl? by Jet running through my head right now.
I don't fucking believe the last couple days. A LOT of email back and forth, and she's calling again tonight. There is a distinct possibility that I'm going up there tomorrow night. Maybe even tonight.
And we WON'T be baking cookies, my friends.
If you didn't see the picture of her I had up for a while today, sorry, but I feel weird leaving it up for long.
The messages got more and more crazy, and finally we just let it out - pure animal fuckery is in my near future, boys and girls. Unless somethng REALLY stupid happens.
I can't believe she's 29 and no guy has ever given her oral entertainment before. Guys who don't eat pussy, I've got a message for you - DIE. You worthless bags of shit. Just lay the fuck down and die, because you are SWINE. Fucking idiots, what are you afraid of? It's a PUSSY, it's not radioactive, for Christ's sake. Get down there and suck on that clit so hard you have a hangover the next morning, or DIE. Hell, eat a little ass while you're at it. Live a little, you dumb fuckers.
I'm in awe of how cool she is to me, the shit she says about me....poor delusional girl actually thinks I'm alright.
WHEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!
Love,
Dougie
fv0ru043fio;fk094umvg05;vgerf,a
12.17.06 (11:10 pm) [edit]"Girl, you really got me now
You got me so I don't know what I'm doin'."
- The Kinks
We talked for 51 minutes and 52 seconds tonight. Not that I was looking at the phone for that information when it was done, you know.
I'm picking up K on Friday to go up to Indiana. I have to go out that night to the bar that recently reopened to talk to the guy about doing a solo gig there. D is gong with me, and then she wants me to go do karaoke with her. No, WITH her. She's gonna drag my ass up there to sing with her.
Shades of the last real date I had - with the lawyer months ago. Shooting pool and listening to shit-kicking trad-country, drinking PBR and stuff.
She keeps telling me things about myself that fry my brain cells. Exactly what I wanted to achieve at last week's gig - I did it for her. Fuckin' wow, man.
That deja vu I mentioned got kicked up a couple times. Frightening. But I'm repeating like a fucking mantra "This isn't forever, just take it one at a time." "This isn't forever, just take it one at a time." "This isn't forever, just take it one at a time." "This isn't forever, just take it one at a time."
I wanna do really wonderful nasty things to her, but mostly I want to hear her voice again, telling me...Christ, I don't believe this.
I'm arrogant enough to think I deserve this after all I've done to focus my energy at each gig, and full of enough self-loathing to be in absolute awe of ANY woman wanting to get NEAR me.
But what's going to happen when she finds out how much of an ASSHOLE I am?
Fuck it, Doug. Who gives a shit? Buy the ticket, take the ride. After all, What Would Hunter Do?
He'd ride,
Dougie
D
12.17.06 (4:57 pm) [edit]She found my myspace page this morning, right after I came back from picking up Katie. We shot off three or four messages to each other in ten minutes and then Katie and I took off for a very nice day in Dayton. (We're meeting my parents for dinner in a while, they're coming through here on their way home from Florida.)
D is KILLING me. I can't believe what's she's saying to me, and she even mentions me by name on her page. Reading over it, I'm convinced that she's gonna have serious second thoughts when she gets to know me, but right now, I'm riding this incredible fuzzy feeling in my chest for all it's worth.
I don't know where it's going to go, but I've GOT to do this right. She's very nice, and after reading what she said to me (exactly what I WANTED to read) I think I wanna make this one special.
There is some severe (and rather disconcerting) deja vu going on here - the parallels to events seven years ago are not hard to see - the way this is coming together, but I'm trying not to think about that too much.
Holy freakin' crap. This girl is CRAZY about me.
Love,
Dougie
Somethin' Tells Me I'm Into Something Good
12.17.06 (8:15 am) [edit]"Answer your telephone!" - David Cross
7:34AM. Not a lot of sleep, but a lotta good shit on the brain.
Good gig last night. Very good. Not the kind of wall-frying shit from last week, but we rode a very firm and solid, yet playful groove all night. Gawd, these guys are a blast to play with.
I felt no need to show off on the bass beyond a couple spots, just laid it down good and thick. When I switched to guitar, the first couple solos were merely acceptable, but I got into some good nasty chordal soloing later that I was pretty happy with.
In the middle of Pink Cadillac (standard fare for this kind of band, it's practically a requirement) we always take the lead of the main riff, already suggesting it to begin with, and go into the Peter Gunn theme. I lay out while S (the keyboardist) does the theme, then I do my thing.
I've settled on starting off with some simple whammy effects, then going into the intro of Purple Haze over the Peter Gunn thing. Been doing this a while. Last night, I slid from the last note of the Purple Haze quote directly into the hook from She Blinded Me With Science. Then a gnarly double-stop romp through Peter Gunn, and back to the riff for the final verse.
I love this band.
I'd called and left a message for her before the gig. I felt the phone vibrate in my right pocket just as I was starting up some good shit on my solo in You Really Got Me.
When break time hit, I RAN outside to check my phone.
She was singing to me. Fleetwood Mac, though the message was breaking up enough being in Bumfuck, Indiana I couldn't tell what it was. I only knew that she was singing to me.
I called back and we talked a few minutes before I had to go back in. She didn't seem to be having a good time, and that stuck with me. I sang her song very well, but it was coming from a different place this time. I never really hit the sex-groove from last week, only came close a few times. But I thought about her the rest of the night, and even managed to mutate the rhythm of the Day Tripper riff into Play That Funky Music. Hehe. I love this band.
Talked briefly again after the gig.
Then I went inside and M came up and said "That girl you were talking to last week just came in."
Uh....
M's wife came up. "That girl is up at the bar. You need to go talk to her. She REALLY likes you."
Uhhhhh....
Last week. I'd flirted around with two women sitting together. One works with M, the other was her friend. The friend was putting off an interesting vibe. She'd seen us the week before (in the place I met the supernova, who they are also friends with, but hasn't been seen since) and I spent the night denying to myself the plain fact that she was watching me most of the time. I figured I was imagining that.
I wasn't.
She told me last week that she'd come back to see us, and the look in her eyes sent shit blasting through my spine.
It took her a while last night to find a friend able to go out with her, and she didn't realize that we were done an hour before the two other gigs she'd seen, so she showed up about five minutes after we were done.
M got to hear about me at work this past week. The friend he works with told him that she was talking about me, really wanted to see me again.
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She saw me last week. SHE SAW ME LAST WEEK. The best gig I've ever played, my fuck-groove on overdrive, and she was there. And now.............................
She's a dark and mysterious kind of lady. Dresses very sharply, but always showing off some KILLER cleavage. I mean...wow...those are some tits, baby...
Short dark hair. Big girl. Dark eyes, totally unreadable until you really spend some time looking into them. And then............
At first, I wasn't sure I was attracted to her, but last week and last night...........whoa.........
Very different from what I normally find myself having my chemicals realigned by. But very, very interesting..............
And she digs me. She REALLY digs me. Holy fucking shit.
I talked to her for ten minutes. Her and her friend. The friend was telling me that I needed to hear D sing."You oughta hear her do Black Velvet."
I couldn't hold back the huge grin. "Oh, I think I'd like that..."
The smile she returned...................
Apparantly she used to sing with a local band. One I've even heard about. M told me he hadn't heard her but was told she has a hell of a voice. I can't wait to hear it............................
It was only a formality when she came out while we were loading up T's trailer with gear. I knew the answer, and I knew where it was gonna go. Once you get into those eyes.................
"So, you seeing anyone?"
"No." Big smile. Oh lord, you are scrambling my brain, honey........
"Think you might be into going out sometime?"
"I'd love to."
Wait for it...
Wait for it...............................
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She pulled out her cell, called mine so I'd have her number. Told me to call her anytime. We're hooking up sometime soon. Sent things through my system that could fry eggs from thirty yards away.
Ten minutes later, I was loading A's bass into my car (he kindly offered to let me borrow it, I'll have to tell the new-bass story later) and a familiar ring came from my phone. A text message. I figured it was my friend in Seattle who likes to make alternate anal artwork for classical CD compilations.
No, it was D.
"It was really nice talking to you tonight, and by the way, you rock! Just sayin'. Safe travels home."
WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!
I was somehow able to just bask in the thrill of the feeling and not overthink on the drive back. Part of me was trying to overthink, go through every possible angle, but I held the fucker down, Cranked up some Me First & The Gimme Gimmes and tried to not fall asleep at the wheel.
I took a different route back to the interstate in Richmond, which I'll use from now on. Straighter roads, more good places to pull over. I pulled over twice before the rest area. Took my sweet time. Tired, but feeling strong anyway. I was bone-dry sober, full of shock waves from the encounter with D. Good, good shit.
5:15AM. Rest area. Not really asleep. The phone rings.
My little day tripper.
I hope the best for you, babe. I felt bad for you last night, knowing you didn't enjoy yourself as you should. You sounded empty, drained. And though my brain has a habit of relocating itself when you come into my range (unbelievably, with all that happened last night, this phone call was the first time I had wood through all of it, I think I was too much in shock before) I really DO care about you. I value your perspective. You make me feel really good just calling me and letting me hear your voice, letting me into your world for a while, saying some of the very kind things you say. I hope I make you feel good too. You deserve it. I think we have a fair amount in common.
Pulled out of the rest area around 6AM. Two hours ago?
And I'm rather awake for the most part.
Excellent gig and the momentary company of two very lovely women. No complaints, baby. No fuckin' complaints at all.
Love,
Dougie
Stuff I Didn't Write About This Week
12.16.06 (7:44 am) [edit]"Freedom is just another word for showing off your tits." - Doug Stanhope
1.) Sheryl already wrote about this on her blog, but I got treated to some Katie-vocalization when I took her home Wednesday night:
Mommy's alright
Daddy's alright
They just seem a little weird
Surrender, Surrender
But don't give yourself a wedgie
Tell me my kid doesn't rock, and I'll stuff a brick in yer ass.
2.) I took Katie out for something different Sunday. We went to the university downtown and caught a group of kids (I figured 10-14 year olds) in a "youth string ensemble."
They played about an hour. Opened with a bit of Bach's fifth Brandenburg, and went through mostly standard stuff, with a couple things I hadn't heard.
They were a tad sloppy and rushed some of the tempos (listening to them try to catch up with each other in a few places was a hoot) but that was why I liked them so much. A lot of energy there. I admire that in ANY music. I also liked the last piece, an inventive arrangement of patriotic themes that slammed different melodies together at interesting places - one bit lasted two bars before modulating up to something else. I also liked one of the half dozen of so Bartok bits they did - one of the slower ones, with the girl on lead violin laying down the melody by herself as her backup provided the one good foray into dissonance the whole set.
Katie was enraptured for about two pieces. After that, she looked like she was going to die from boredom. Oh well, I tried. :)
3.) I told a guy at work Monday my little dream of getting liquored up and going down to the giant Jesus statue for a pissing contest some night. He asked when and offered to buy the beer.
4.) Work situation got thrown back into disarray yesterday, when a bunch of us got sent home after an hour. At 5PM (after I'd spent a few hours looking for other work, then came home to record that stuff I posted) I got the call that it was over. The two-to-three week assignment lasted one day and one hour. Why am I not surprised?
5.) One of the band's standard tunes is Big Bad Leroy Brown. Since A came in, I let him have that on bass. There's so little guitar, I don't play on it, just do backing vocals. It's one I can only really do in a stupid falsetto that I keep back from the mic on so as to not sound TOO retarded.
There's a bit during the verses that I'd forgotten to do for a couple weeks. M (the lead singer) heard me do it Saturday night and it caught him off guard, and the rest of the song was basically the band with two singers laughing their asses off trying to finish the song. It was obviously the most appropriate chance for this, so at one point I yelled "Hi Ho Silver!" and went back to uncontrollable laughter.
I love this band. The gig tonight is in a more sedate venue, so we won't be burning anything down in quite the same way as last week, but I know we'll have some good shit happen.
Gotta leave in an hour. Two new students today too.
Awaaaay!
Dougie
----------
I almost forgot! I just wrote a friend to tell him about this story from a few weeks ago:
We went to the art museum in Cincy (we're going to the Dayton one Sunday) and Katie brought along a pad and a couple pencils to copy stuff with. She's got a BIG artistic streak (she tells me she's going to be an artist when she grows up, but she also wants to be a vet, a race car driver, and thirty other things) and I've been trying to encourage that.
Anyway, what do you think was the first painting on the wall that she tried to copy?
A Georgia O'Keefe.
My kid can beat up your kid!
A Girl Like Her
12.15.06 (8:39 pm) [edit]www.extrafancy.net/doug/AGirlLikeYou.mp3
The other stuff I uploaded today was a serious attempt at doing something good.
This isn't. It's basically just my dick after two large bottles of Mickey's malt liquor.
Enjoy, fuckers!
Dougie
Poetry
12.15.06 (7:32 pm) [edit]Mojo Nixon
Tie My Pecker To My Leg
Me and yer momma and some other whore
Floatin' down the river on a shithouse door
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Dad's going steady with a pig in a barn
Grandma's gettin down with an ear of corn
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Watching mom shave her pussy really gets the kids hard
Grandpa's trying to fuck somethin' in the front yard
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Sister is gettin' rich on her 900 number
Four dime diddly bop given her best dog a hummer
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Well I'm a big dick daddy and a fuckin' fool
Eleven years old and I went to pussy school
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Yeah, her asshole's tighter then a steel drum
Hell, I'd eat a yard of her shit to watch her cum
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
You only live once, so off with them pants
Hell ain't for sure, it's only a chance
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Yeah, my gal's so fine, wanna suck her daddy's dick
If you saw my poontang's face, you wouldn't give me no lip
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Woke up this morning with a case of stinky finger
Last night I must have been the designated drinker
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
I need a woman six foot ten
She's gotta be that tall so I could get it all in
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Yeah, me and yer momma and some other whore
Floatin' down the river on a shithouse door
gonna tie my pecker to my leg, to my leg
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
I'm gonna tie my pecker
tie my pecker
tie my pecker
tie my pecker
gonna tie my pecker to my leg.
Two New Things For Your Listening Pleasure
12.15.06 (4:11 pm) [edit]www.extrafancy.net/doug/BangAGong.mp3
www.extrafancy.net/doug/LittleSister.mp3
The first is for you-know-who.
The second is me trying to be Elvis. And damn, I could use a peanut butter and banana sandwich right about now. Huh!
Love,
Dougie
Something To Waste 21 And 1/2 Minutes Of Your Life With
12.14.06 (10:47 pm) [edit]www.extrafancy.net/doug/ViolentBlue.mp3
And no, I was GOING to break it into pieces, but you can blow me.
Dougie
Violent Blue
12.14.06 (8:32 pm) [edit]"Am I boring you? I could say more
We were destined for somewhere
But that was before you traded in your peace sign for a finger
And I don't believe it's the way you were raised
Or the cards you were dealt, or a poor self-image
I think you love yourself too much
You want to rule some sovereign state?
You want to smother in all that hate?
Get away
Lay down
Strip it off
And lose yourself" - Chagall Guevara
"Show me the way to go home
I'm tired and I want to go to bed
I had a little drink about an hour ago, and it went right to my head
Where ever I may roam, on land or sea or foam
You will always hear me singing this song
Show me the way to go home" - Irving King
"Need your love 1,2,3
Stop starin' at my D cup
Don't waste time, just give it to me
C'mon baby, just feel me up
C'mon, just give it up" - The Donnas
"I've got them bipolar blues
Wearin' two pair of shoes
I've got them bipolar blues
Which fuckin' road do I choose
I woke up this morning, and found myself dead
Got some kind of devil shit all mixed up in my head
Don't wanna go into work, wanna eat refried beans instead
I've got them bipolar blues
And I still ain't paid my motherfuckin' dues" - D.B., work in progress
The crack of dawn can BLOW me...dear sweet fuckin' baby Jesus, I wanna eat your pussy...fuck the work week (slight return),,,we are the priests of the temples of (sorry, card denied)...my brain is like a sieve...music is the best...more important information for people who wonder what i eat...
Started a new job today. The old one ended Monday, and I didn't even do anything. I was ready to make this the job I did something purposefully stupid on, just to get fired. Instead, they came around half an hour before qutting time, said they were done with me, but liked my work and might call back in a month. i've not known from day to day how long it would last, so it was no surprise.
My drunken rant Sunday night was the product of a feeling that has entered my orifices each Sunday evening for weeks now, feelin' stronger every day just like that Chicago song. The transition from a weekend of burning down bars with my bass and heavenly downtime with my daughter back into the work week is pulling serious shit out of my brain, and setting it on fire right in front of my face. Monday morning was actually a way to RELAX for quite a few months there. The weekends have been my way of spraying it all over the walls and coming back down to earth. Monday was a way to clean off and re-enter what I needed to do to pay the fucking bills.
Now it's goddamn torture. I don't sleep Sunday nights very well. I don't sleep a LOT of nights very well. The ol' insomnia is rearing its ugly motherfuckin' skullcap again, and I know why - the times they are a-changin'. I can feel it in every molecule. I just don't know HOW it's going to change, and the sense of desparation is running high.
I got up at 5:25AM for work. After a lot of confusion and shuffling around (typical for jobs with this company) I found myself in a place that starts work half an hour later than I'd been told. I'd been here before - back in June, the first job they had for me when I moved back to Cincy. This time I was in a different building, doing similar work, but not as fast-paced. I was trying to remember why I hated it so much when I was there before, when the supervisor started showing up every ten minutes.
Ahh, yes. Anal-retentive micro-managing dipshits taking their shit far too seriously. My favorite brand-name assfucker.
When I got there, I was reminded of something else in a very powerful way:
All the women who carbonate my brain cells the most are either half my age or responsible for my paycheck.
Thank you God. Thank you so BLOODY much.
The hotter account manager (there's two of them) is a lucious little brunette with a round face, soft eyes, and legs that could make a stronger man than myself cry..
Oh yeah. The boss. OK. I remember now.
SHITFUCKY!
Then, because God hates me and there is a plot against me (it's all about ME, you see. Obviously this is true) they put me directly across the table from APHRODITE HERSELF.
No, God. Don't do this to me.
She only LOOKED seventeen. She's actually 24. The kind of beauty that doesn't draw attention to itself at first, but once you get drawn in, you are FUCKED, my friend, and not in the way you wanna be.
My penis took a vacation all day. This had nothing to do with my dick, This was all about "dear lord, just let me LOOK at this all day." Brain chemicals aligning just to make you believe you are falling in love with a woman you met FOURTEEN SECONDS AGO. The intense desire to simply fall to your knees and whimper like a retard.
HEART-BREAKINGLY beautiful.
Oh, she's married and has a three-year old. She's also really nice and smart and seems to have her shit together pretty well.
I wanted to cry. How I managed to plaster on The Face Of Reason and not come apart at every nail in front of her, I really do not know.
This is the other thing coming to a very fine point in my noggin - I have NO idea how to balance the thrill of living on my own with the ungodly terrible desire to be a blubbering DOUCHEBAG for the first beautiful woman who I can drug up to the point of actually staying near me for more than ten seconds.
OK, I'll settle for a blowjob. Let's be serious here.
She was very nice when we said goodbye for the day. Fuck, those eyes. Those dark, young, soul-rending eyes. The shape of her face, that small mouth breaking out into a big beautiful smile.
The sense of utter douche-like LONGING was about to erupt from my skull like some weird tsunami of idiot horror.
Thank Jeezus this job is only for two or three weeks.
RIP Peter Boyle. You were MY Frankenstein.
More and more heroes are dead. The people who came before, who I owe my little black soul to. They not only own my heart for their work, but for their lives.
They broke out of this hideous soul-crushing 40-hour workweek and blazed their own trail in front of God and everybody. The writers, musicians, artists, comedians, and pornographers I admire. Shining their light down and saying "Hey, fucker. You can do it too." Doug Stanhope published a book. A BOOK. A drunken lunatic spewing forth both truth and error in joyously riotous fashion published a book. There's hope for me yet.
They found their way. I'm flailing away in the blackness trying to find mine.
I loathe the American Dream. You have to be asleep to believe it. The idea that "if you work hard enough, you'll be rewarded" is not supported by reality. I've worked with guys who have spent nearly fifty years proving that shit wrong, still fighting to survive as I do. It's about LUCK as much as anything. Most of the people I know who live far better than me haven't done SHIT.
But the other coin-side is that I feel closer every day to that dream, because I'm gonna stand that shit on its head and do my little evil dance, or die trying.
I don't really want a lot. A dishwasher, one more room, washer and dryer hookups, money for gear, beer, and CDs. A budget to keep a car on the road.
And an end to the Monday-Friday hell that all you other fuckers seem to have accepted as gospel long ago.
And oral sex. Can't forget that, can we?
I can make that shit work just fine.
After work, zipping across Fairfield (past the hospital where my tonsils were taken out, singing along to Greg Lake like I'd never have done a few years ago) one destination in mind - new bass. New bass, motherfucker.
Doubt entered my mind. I tried to push it away.......
I've had my heart set on a Fender Jazz. I kinda miss the basic Precision vibe that was taken from the back of my car a while back, but I thought a Jazz bass might do me better in the long run. I've probably played 40 of them in recent weeks.
But not the one I wanted.
A drummer in my neighborhood gave me two cassettes to listen to sometime in around 1986 or 7. They were called Power Windows and Grace Under Pressure.
They changed my life.
It takes a special kind of unable-to-get-pussy mutant-geek to appreciate Rush the way I did when I was 17. Yes, *I* was once seventeen. And the girls didn't fuck me then either.
My actual style is more informed by the example of Jack Bruce and John Entwistle, but I stole more licks from Geddy Lee. Around the time Counterparts came out ('94?) I knew a third of the back catalog on my chosen instrument, and played along with those albums often.
I think it was that album when Geddy switched back to the Jazz bass he's used since. He's known for Rickebackers, Steinbergers, and Wals, but Rush's best-known album - Moving Pictures, features the growl of a Fender Jazz, and some of his best playing. Red Barchetta is about as perfect a song as Rush has ever delivered, a piece of music that zips along just like the car that inspired it. Ged's bass is at a peak there.
Having learned a few things about groove and subtletly over the years, I have to kinda chuckle a bit when I listen back to those old Rush albums. Their tendency to bludgeon a riff and hang neon sings on their rhythms ("We're in 5/4 now! FIVE, I tell you! FIVE!") combined with their rather limited harmonic range and overall WHITENESS give lie to their reputation as the front-line of progressive rock (try some National Health or Hatfield & The North ,you geeks) but they did ROCK, and they forged an instantly recognizable sound that has remained intact over the years even with all the fucking about they've done with it, and thank fuck for that fucking about, because it's made them more fun to listen to.
Geddy's bass is a big part of all that good shit.
I walked into the store today and looked around for a minute and said to the guy "Geddy Lee Signature Jazz." There's one in the back, he said. Fresh off the truck.
I'd played one on a whim a while back, for no real reason. Since my own bass was stolen, no one has had one in stock.
The black and white demon was handed over to me and plugged into a Peavey rig.
Fuck that girl from work. I wanna jizz all over a Geddy Lee Signature Jazz.
For my tastes, it blows the doors off every other bass I've played in years. It's huge, thick, nasty, and makes it own sauce. The neck is a delight. The black and white paint fit me perfectly. The entire ball o' low-end lovin' is ME, more than any bass I've previously owned.
My SWR was in the back of my car, because I'd been determinged to play any bass I'd settled on through my own rig before buying. Fuck it. I want it NOW.
I made sweet love to that bass for ten minutes, then we took it up front and ran the application for the card through, so I'd have essentially a one-year-same-as-cash deal.
Declined.
Not a surprise. A huge motherfucker of a disappointment, but not a surprise. I've been fighting with my credit rating for over a year now, and it's only been back into an acceptable state for a month.
Shitmotherfuckin'fuckity.
He offered me a couple other options, neither of which really works, though they might come close if I decide to never sleep again, or at least not for the next few months.
I remembered how fucked up I was Sunday night, maybe three steps from where I was in April 2004, the night I went into a hospital because of extreme sleep-deprivation bringing on the most frightening symptoms.
I handed the bass over. The salesman - who was one of the more knowledgable and friendly and genuinely sympathetic fellows I've met in a guitar shop in eons, and looked like Greg Proops to boot - gave me his card. Encouraged me to come back, put me in the computer to call in case a used version came through.
Sadness, depression, anger, hostility, self-loathing, fear, hunger, assfuck-cravings of the damned...the drive away was not entertaining.
I am Roger McGuinn and that bass is my Chestnut Mare. I'm gonna catch that fuckin' horse if I can, and when I do, I'm gonna give it my brand, bitch.
I have a goal that is seeming highly unreachable. Day job down to part-time by the end of January. I don't know if it's possible. I'm in better shape than I've been in a while, but that's saying little.New students are starting soon, but I'll also have to go whine to the power company for a break just to afford my daughter's Christmas present. The two days off work provided the first decent sleep I've found in weeks, but they're also going to kill my next paycheck.
Walls closing in. Claustrophobia. It's destroyed parts of my life before, fucked with others relentlessly.
I cranked up the compilation tape I made two nights ago. The soundtrack to the last couple weeks.
Somewhere in the middle of selections from Aliens Ate My Buick - me wondering how a white guy who named himself after a noise-suppression system could be so damn funky - I hit the groove again.
The feeling from Saturday night. Raw blasts of unhinged fuckage spraying all over the walls. A phone call that sent shock waves through my fucking SOUL. The groove. The funk. The Note.
"Information is not knowledge. Knowledge is not wisdom. Wisdom is not truth. Truth is not beauty. Beauty is not love. Love is not music. Music is THE BEST..."
Thanks, Frank. You're right, ya know?
My brain is like a sieve. Sometimes it's easier to forget the bad things I do to myself.
Pure unbridled fuckery flying around the car, bouncing off the gray walls as I smoked little cigars and sang along. I thought about the girl from work again, this time from a much more pelvic-based perspective. Imagined her as one of the Donnas, singing to me. Reaching out her hand, pointing to me, then herself. Inviting me inside.
Utter horseshit. But a boy can dream, eh?
I came home, cranked up a Chess collection of blues guitar goodness, and cut a few red potatoes in half, and threw them in a baking dish with oil, garlic powder, salt, and pepper. Fifteen minutes later, I dumped a can of Kroger chili hot beans on top.
Three cans of PBR in, I'm feeling fine. Buddy Guy is playing the blues for me. Take THAT, you cocksucking bastard sonsabitches.
Love,
Dougie
9PM - Time To Turn Into Melted Cheese
12.13.06 (9:12 pm) [edit]I keep looking at the phone, waiting for another call. Christ, I'm out of my fucking mind. I thought it was women who were supposed to do this kind of shit.
I'm not sure whether to sit here and listen to godawful love songs or go find a sushi bar and try to make up for how bad I want to stick my face in a very particular place right now.
And I was so proud of how rational I was the rest of the day. Things tend to go awry at this time of night.
But no, I've got some old psychedelic CDs to spin (It's A Beautiful Day) and a 12 of PBR.
And this chair. And that's all I need.
"White bird must fly, or she will die." Join the club, my feathered friend.
Looks like tea for one again,
Dougie
I Need My Allocation Of Recreation
12.12.06 (10:05 pm) [edit]"There may be an om in moment
But there's very few folk in focus
Not the first, not the last, not the least
You needn't be well to be wealthy
But you've got to be whole to be Holy
Fetch the rope, fetch the clock, fetch the priest
Oh this planet of ours is a mess
I bet Heaven's the same
Look, the madman said, "Son, as a friend
Tell me what's in a name"
Hallowed by thy name
I give you the state of statesmen
And the key to what motivates them
On the left, on the right, on the nail.
Still I don't see a man in a mansion
That an accurate pen won't puncture
Go to town, go to Hell, go to jail.
And there's bars and saloons
Where the jukebox plays blues in the night
Till the madman says "Son,
Time to go, we could both use some light"
And thy will be done
We live in an age of cages
The tale of an ape escaping
In the search for some truth we can use
But many a drunk got drunker
And mostly a thinker, thunker
Set the place, set the time, set the fuse
The optimist laughed, and the pessimist cried in his wine
And the madman said "Son,
Take a word, they'll all wake given time"
Let thy Kingdom come
The madman and I got drunker
Till both thought the other thank you
And we laughed all the way to the stars
The optimist asked for a taste of the pessimist's wine
And the madman said "Son,
How'd you feel?" I said "Me? I feel fine
Lead me into temptation
Into temptation
I said into temptation
I need my allocation
Of recreation
I want a revelation
In degredation
No hesitation
Give me variation
Give me inspiration
Celebration...
Elevation..."
- Greg Lake & Peter Sinfield
I had other, more serious shit to write tonight, but suddenly I've swung over to wantiing to drill a hole in the wall and fuck it for a while. I'm a very bad boy, and boy it feels GOOD.
I want to run an idea past you, my fine readers. I've been trying to think of how to get myself published, and I've been beating my head on the wall a lot lately trying to write things outside this blog, (which has gone almost nowhere) but what I've noticed is the stuff I've ALREADY written. Half o f it is useless horseshit. Bu t some of the other half makes me laugh my balls off like a mad scientist witnessing his creatiion in action, and I'd like to run with that.
One of my heroes, Doug Stanhope, recently self-published a book. And if that drunken asshole can do it, why can't I? Here's my idea - I'm thinking of taking a bunch of the best bits from this blog right here, maybe tweak some of them a bit, and make a fuckin' book out of it.
Do you think it's a good idea? And if so, what shit would you like to see in there? Some of the things I like most are so heavilly dependent on other people's styles (for example, the Hunter Thompson-derived stuff, which is so blatantly in his style as to be ridiculous, but goddamn, I like what I've done with that) that I'm not quite sure what to do with it all, but I will say this - I wear my influences on my sleeve. I will NEVER pretend that I do not owe HUGE debts to Hunter, to Frank Zappa, George Carlin, Stanhope, and many, many more. I'll even put a special thanks section to them all in the book. If I exist for anything, it's to turn people onto the work of the people I admire most.
Anyway, tell me what you think. I'm gonna go jerk off and think about barely legal teens for a while. It's my DUTY, ya know?
Love,
Dougie
Kids, Your Elders Are Full Of Shit Sometimes
12.12.06 (4:10 pm) [edit]Katie seems to really enjoy school, and I'm very happy about that, but we've had some odd things develop in the last few weeks.
Her teacher has been emailing or calling her mom a couple times a week (I've been getting the emails too), and it always seems to be about little inconsequential things. I'm not sure why Katie not wanting to zip up her coat or needing help with it is a big deal. Let her leave it unzipped. If she freezes her ass off, I bet she's smart enough to figure it out. In fact, I KNOW she is.
Apparantly my daughter isn't "independent" enough. Interesting, since her Mom told me Sunday how she'd got up, made her bed, and microwaved her own breakfast all by herself. Also interesting since she can spend large blocks of time by herself, enraptured by a pen and paper, drawing away without a care in the world. She insists on closing the car door herself, and if she has a hard time with something, she appears quite irritated if she has to ask for help - she wants to be a big girl and do stuff by herself, and if she can't, it's frustrating to her. If anything, I have to tell her it's OKAY to ask for help.
Apparantly Katie gets a little "emotional" at times in class. Gee, wonder where she gets that? And for that matter, I wonder what five-year old DOESN'T get a little carried away sometimes. Are all these other kids little perfect specimens who never have a bad day or throw a tantrum or question authority? Christ, I hope not. Is there anything more boring than a "perfect" child? Do they even EXIST? I kinda think not. I'm betting Katie is no different than other five-year olds, she probably just doesn't feel as inhibited about saying what's on her mind. And good for her, that's what I WANT her to do.
I'd really like to know if all the other parents of kids in that class are getting these kind of constant reports. If so, it might not be that big of a deal and we might be reading too much into it. But if they ARE singleing out Katie, I wanna fucking know why. I've been telling her Mom that we need to give the teacher the benefit of the doubt and not take this too seriously just yet, but I'm beginning to get kinda pissy about this myself.
Her teacher is brand new to this. This is her first year. She's 23, fresh out of school. Probably not very prepared for what ACTUALLY happens when you stick 20 kindergarten kids in a room and try to get them to be students. She strikes me as very committed to what she's doing, very concerned about doing her job right and giving her class what they need. A nice person to talk to.
But from what Sheryl has told me (she's had more contact with her than I have) it also seems she's kind of an anal-retentive freak who has a problem dealing with children who don't fit into her textbook view of life.
I'm trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. She's new and just figuring shit out, and I'm willing to make space for that. But I'd also like to know more details, and more about how she's handling the OTHER kids. I'm giving this one more time before I get more aggressive about it - I'm not really saying anything to the teacher just yet - because I'm not as tactful as Sheryl is about this kind of thing. You might have already guessed that. :)
We're both irritated about it, and I think we're more or less on the same page - we have nothing but respect for our daughter's personality and we're both pretty damn sure she's doing just fine. Probably because that's what we SEE on a regular basis. I'm shocked at how thoughtful and kind and considerate and funny and intelligent my daughter is. Yeah, I know, that's what all parents are supposed to think about their kid. Come watch her yourself, motherfuckers. She's got ten times the personality of most of the kids her age I see, and I also notice when I pick her up at daycare (the teacher in question is at morning kindergarten, Katie goes off to a different place in the afternoon, a different location of the daycare she's been in since she was 18 months old) that a lot of the other kids make sure to say goodbye to her, and seem to really admire her. I saw her one day playing with a couple other girls, and they both seemed to regard Katie as something of the leader in their little group. They obviously were looking up to her to some extent.
Katie can be a little arrogant about that kind of thing, and there's been times where we've been out at a park or somewhere else where she's been interacting with other kids and her confidence has spilled over into being a bit bossy and a little TOO sure of herself, but she is just as easily given over to displaying remarkable acts of kindness and sharing, so I don't take it too seriously if she goes too far, I just try to gently remind her to not be too arrogant, and she usually does quite well toning it down.
And anyway, I'd rather she go a bit too far in self-confidence than be a little PUSSY like I was when I was a kid. She's FIVE, for fuck's sake, she's got time to learn how to tweak things and get better in her dealings with other children.
I'm a firm believer in letting kids make mistakes. Who better to fuck up sometimes? What are you going to do "wrong" at age five that is going to make any lasting difference? I try to give her bits of advice or constructive criticism, but mostly I encourage her, because 9 times out of 10, she's NOT doing anything wrong, in fact she's full of hope and love and excitement and a generous spirit that her own father is pretty fucking bad at remembering a lot of the time. She's friggin' inspiring, I tell you.
I don't want her to turn too arrogant or lose her generosity and not think of others, but I'm not really concerned about that very much. What I AM concerned about is that some big people are going to come along and try to squash her personality in the name of some anal-retentive horseshit about what constitutes a "well-behaved child."
I don't WANT her to be that. I want her to raise a little hell sometimes. Because she IS usually considerate of others, and as long as she remembers to be good to others, I hope she finds her own approach to learning. Which is what school is supposed to be about. LEARNING shit. She has a definite thirst for knowledge, and if she goes about it a bit differently than other kids, more power to her. If she sometimes tries to monopolize a situation and isn't as good at giving others their space as she should be, I bet you there will be twenty other times she is VERY good at doing the right thing.
I'm trying to find a way of telling her that school is important without making it TOO important. It's not the end of your life, kids. School does NOT have to define you. Do the best you can, but don't take this shit any more seriously than you have to. Odds are, you'll probably end up a very different person than what you are right now anyway. I was an exceptional student who caused very little trouble and mostly kept my mouth shut. I got shit about being unorganized and sloppy, but I got killer grades up through 8th grade.
Now I play bass in a rock band and try to get 17-year olds to dump their prom date for me. Not exactly the same as when I was getting 108% for the semester in geography class.
I tried to as tactfully and appropriately as possible impart something to Katie when I saw her two nights ago - the adults in her world really are doing their best to help her along (and I do believe her teacher really is trying) but we don't always get it right, and she might have to do what she's told, but that doesn't mean she has to like it or agree with it. I HATE hearing parents say "You're going to do it, and you're going to LIKE it." That's a tired horseshit cliche, and it's fucking stupid to the core. You can make a kid do what you want, but if you think for one second that you have ANY business telling a kid that they have to enjoy your shit, you are an arrogant fucking asshole and they WILL bite you in the ass someday.
I'd love to just look at her and say, "Honey, adults are full of shit sometimes." I can't do that just yet, but I probably don't have to anyway. I think she's figuring that out on her own. With me as a Dad, she's got about as perfect an example of somebody who tries to do the right thing but is often full of shit as a kid can hope for.
Love,
Dougie
Yet Another Reason To Be An Emerson, Lake & Palmer Fan
12.11.06 (9:48 pm) [edit] Lend your love to me tonight
Don’t ask me who or what is right
I have no strength I cannot fight
Just flood my darkness with your light
I need no face I need no name
No martyr’s artificial shame
No crucifix, I am not lame
And yet I ache to feel the flame
Arrest the sun and shoot the moon
The lamp of laughter dies too soon
To live reflected in a spoon
Makes it too hard to stay in tune
Believe me
Unlock the door and unbar the gate
I’ll write "I love you&quo