I live life at an unhurried pace. Which is a diplomatic way of saying that I have no life.
What did you expect? I keep an online diary, after all.
But life from Friday on has been whiz-bang-nonstop, coffee in the morning, beer in the afternoon, whiskey at night. Until now. I am not going out tonight. Ive weighted myself down, made sure that I cannot get up and leave, by going to Joey Ks for the All-U-Can-Eat catfish and an extra side of onion rings. Of which I consumed the whole. My blood runs thick with eons-old grease. It is pure caloric ecstasy.
But! Friday. Friday ended up drunk and dizzy with a pool cue in my hand. Which was better than hanging out at Angeli, leeching the wireless hookup from Mythique and watching Adam take Spark.com tests. Not that I dislike Adam not in the slightest but sometimes enough is enough with the rampant technological bullshit and its time to get back to the old ways, you know, getting fucked up on the worlds oldest manufactured drug, wonderful, soothing beer, and knocking around a barely-modernized centuries-old French aristocrats game. I enjoy technology, yes. But the old ways have more blood in them yet.
Saturday was shrimp in the scrambled eggs and cheese grits, and then Anna and Joemyron and whatshername, Cassandra?, Im not entirely sure, we all drank coffee and cut up loudly and everyone in the coffeeshop hated us, oh, they stared and little knives shot out of their eyes and they made stabby gestures at us behind our back, but we would not yield, no, we were witty and young and on loads of caffeine!
We watched a dog with droopy eyes and great heaping mounds of wattle sit outside, the dogs hind legs were out of alignment like a slammed Civic with amateur-chopped springs. We watched a few Goths unload equipment into an art gallery. One was bald and he wore a grand sweeping black fur something and I named him Melthor. I will write childrens books with Melthor as the main character. Melthor and the Magic Milk Jugs. Melthor and the Tale of the Heavy Espresso Machine. Melthor Takes a Stroll Down Magazine.
Some perfunctory shopping where nothing was bought thankfully and then off to dinner still with Joemyron and Anna, whats her name dropped, had to meet people, Anna ordered curried mangoes and they were the mangoest mangoes you should ever hope to mango. I ate steamed fish and yogurted potatoes that had some sort of ginger and anise aftertaste and they were incredible. We talked of scalpings and limbloss and how best to abuse hired help and we talked in stage-whispers about our cysts. PSST HEY ANNA HOW IS THAT CYST OF YOURS HAS IT STOPPED SWELLING YES KEN AND YOURS HAS IT FINALLY POPPED OR IS THE PUS STILL GATHERING UNDERNEATH THE SKIN etc.
Then I went home and caddycorner to my buildings backyard there was a band. It was at the gallery where Melthor was running the free bar and the Hazard County Girls were playing. What they lacked in musical talent was more than made up in innate knowledge of Rock and How To Do It. I drank wine and retired.
Sunday was breakfast biscuits and fine coffee and laundry, browsing the stacks at WTUL and determining that I really, really wanted a copy of both Marshall Crenshaws and the Plimsouls first albums, but getting caught before I could take them home and burn them, no matter patience is needed I will have them soon enough, and then out again to the Dix to see Mikes band, Diewhitedevilfratboydie. Mike didnt remember me but I dont mind, I was just his neighbor. The TV had Simpsons and South Park and horrid jumblecut closed-captions, like the electronics were whipped with a Markov chain. I would like to subscribe to your newsletter became I woeeeto subslettter and a few lengthy periods of exposition were summed up into two incoherent syllables : bhrhuuum. There again I ended with drunken pool, this time against two chatty Kathies who were kind enough to let me think I was winning before WHAM they ran out the table, leaving me simpering into my Red Dog.
There is of course much detail here I could get into but why bother? I need to write this down but again, my favorite saying : The unexamined life is not worth living, but the overexamined life aint exactly apple pie, neither. I am done with the weekend and am ready for tomorrow.
What did you expect? I keep an online diary, after all.
But life from Friday on has been whiz-bang-nonstop, coffee in the morning, beer in the afternoon, whiskey at night. Until now. I am not going out tonight. Ive weighted myself down, made sure that I cannot get up and leave, by going to Joey Ks for the All-U-Can-Eat catfish and an extra side of onion rings. Of which I consumed the whole. My blood runs thick with eons-old grease. It is pure caloric ecstasy.
But! Friday. Friday ended up drunk and dizzy with a pool cue in my hand. Which was better than hanging out at Angeli, leeching the wireless hookup from Mythique and watching Adam take Spark.com tests. Not that I dislike Adam not in the slightest but sometimes enough is enough with the rampant technological bullshit and its time to get back to the old ways, you know, getting fucked up on the worlds oldest manufactured drug, wonderful, soothing beer, and knocking around a barely-modernized centuries-old French aristocrats game. I enjoy technology, yes. But the old ways have more blood in them yet.
Saturday was shrimp in the scrambled eggs and cheese grits, and then Anna and Joemyron and whatshername, Cassandra?, Im not entirely sure, we all drank coffee and cut up loudly and everyone in the coffeeshop hated us, oh, they stared and little knives shot out of their eyes and they made stabby gestures at us behind our back, but we would not yield, no, we were witty and young and on loads of caffeine!
We watched a dog with droopy eyes and great heaping mounds of wattle sit outside, the dogs hind legs were out of alignment like a slammed Civic with amateur-chopped springs. We watched a few Goths unload equipment into an art gallery. One was bald and he wore a grand sweeping black fur something and I named him Melthor. I will write childrens books with Melthor as the main character. Melthor and the Magic Milk Jugs. Melthor and the Tale of the Heavy Espresso Machine. Melthor Takes a Stroll Down Magazine.
Some perfunctory shopping where nothing was bought thankfully and then off to dinner still with Joemyron and Anna, whats her name dropped, had to meet people, Anna ordered curried mangoes and they were the mangoest mangoes you should ever hope to mango. I ate steamed fish and yogurted potatoes that had some sort of ginger and anise aftertaste and they were incredible. We talked of scalpings and limbloss and how best to abuse hired help and we talked in stage-whispers about our cysts. PSST HEY ANNA HOW IS THAT CYST OF YOURS HAS IT STOPPED SWELLING YES KEN AND YOURS HAS IT FINALLY POPPED OR IS THE PUS STILL GATHERING UNDERNEATH THE SKIN etc.
Then I went home and caddycorner to my buildings backyard there was a band. It was at the gallery where Melthor was running the free bar and the Hazard County Girls were playing. What they lacked in musical talent was more than made up in innate knowledge of Rock and How To Do It. I drank wine and retired.
Sunday was breakfast biscuits and fine coffee and laundry, browsing the stacks at WTUL and determining that I really, really wanted a copy of both Marshall Crenshaws and the Plimsouls first albums, but getting caught before I could take them home and burn them, no matter patience is needed I will have them soon enough, and then out again to the Dix to see Mikes band, Diewhitedevilfratboydie. Mike didnt remember me but I dont mind, I was just his neighbor. The TV had Simpsons and South Park and horrid jumblecut closed-captions, like the electronics were whipped with a Markov chain. I would like to subscribe to your newsletter became I woeeeto subslettter and a few lengthy periods of exposition were summed up into two incoherent syllables : bhrhuuum. There again I ended with drunken pool, this time against two chatty Kathies who were kind enough to let me think I was winning before WHAM they ran out the table, leaving me simpering into my Red Dog.
There is of course much detail here I could get into but why bother? I need to write this down but again, my favorite saying : The unexamined life is not worth living, but the overexamined life aint exactly apple pie, neither. I am done with the weekend and am ready for tomorrow.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
The Feelies? Good god yes. Through Allmusic ( http://www.allmusic.com/ ) I was able to find a bunch of like bands, including the Embarassment, who I highly recommend. Then again, I also dig Cheap Trick, it's a secret shame so shhhhh please don't tell anyone.
Didn't I didn't I didn't I see you crying, ohhhh oh didn't I didn't I didn't I see you crying!