Let's just go all over the map, shall we?
***
It's done. This latest paper of mine is done. Boom, written, all that. It's not my greatest, but as usual, I feel I managed to put something respectable together.
***
BB's current therapy: "Third Stone from the Sun" by Jimi Hendrix. Yes, he was a god. If you don't agree, well, them's fightin' words!
***
Listened to Tones by Eric Johnson again today for the first time in a while. It still holds up nicely.
***
I'm all sugared up. Had myself a mighty fine root beer float.
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Tomorrow night: Helmet. Sunday night: Smashing Pumpkins. And you just thought I was already half deaf...
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I've been putting in some long hours this week. Lots of 16-hour days, days that find me taking my first breather long about the time I should be in bed.
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Guys, we don't present ourselves well enough. We don't.
I saw this young woman at dinner tonight, pointed her out to MOBB. Cute brunette, well-dressed, attention to detail from head to toe. Her date? He was in old sneakers, baggy jeans and an undershirt. Junior, she's going to get wise at some point. I've seen it happen oh-yes-I-have.
What is this that gets into us? Laziness? Is it so hard to run a razor over your face, or maybe wear a shirt with a collar once in a while? I'm less inclined than I used to be to, say, hit the Walgreen's in my Bad Brains t-shirt.
[BB in old man voice}: Hell in a handbasket I say!
***
I'm tired. I think I'd do better to avoid trying to say anything profound.
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Wolfboy has discovered the existence of the dung beetle. I'm just glad that he did it after supper.
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Good day, good day.
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Has Charles Bukowski really been dead 13 years?
***
Never got into William Burroughs though. I tried, oh I did. I took a crack at a couple different novels of his. Sometime in the early 90s when MOBB was out of town, I decided I'd read Wild Boys. I sat out on the porch with a cigar, a six-pack and the book, figuring that with some chemical assistance I might understand what the hell he was talking about.
I remember:
Phrases like "boys in rainbow-colored jockstraps."
Waking up the next morning sideways on the bed, still fully-dressed, with every apartment light still on. My breath tasted like ash. I was hung over.
I was also done with Burroughs.
***
What's Duck Dunn up to these days?
***
I surrender. Much love to you all.
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1 comment:
I tried to read Burroughs when I was in college, tried Naked Lunch, tried Ghost of Chance because someone told me it was his most accessible... I spent a few years assuming it was me, that I wasn't open enough, or smart enough. Smart people agree that this guy is a great author, if you don't think he's a great author then you are not smart and not nearly cool enough... after about two years I tried again and just decided that Burroughs was just really self-important gay porn, and that I didn't really care for gay porn, just not my thing.
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