Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Welcome to my Tuesday night

Hmmmm, First a bit of reading, I'm totally going to that Pink Floyd laser show tribute concert, make a delicious cheeseburger a la George (Burger in sliced bread served on a napkin), a chef's salad (manager's special...saved $1.32) and some Portsmouth community radio playing Richard Thompson and Ben Harper. Oggy is content...at rest...though a taste of vodka won't hurt anyone.

A taste, and then down to the Press Room to play some Ray Charles Songs. I've spent two weeks learning all the words to that Tom Waits song (HAd me a girl from Chula vista, I was in love with her sister) so I might as well...just one more taste of Vodka...hehe...I can hardly taste the liquor...it must've gone bad...stale...put some more in...

What's better than the guitar, the way these diminished 7th chords can go anywhere? Nothing, that's what. Damn, I'm good. I sound like Django Reinhardt. My fingers are speaking another language. It doesn't get any better than this...these cheeseburgers are damn good. I make excellent cheeseburgers. Ritz crackers and salad and...vodka. IS that all there is left? What the fuck? HAs someone been drinking me vodka? I don't understand? I had this...oh, fuck it// I'ldd just poor a bit more and have andotkner. here's to you, Elena. Hey, you treated me like dirt...you think I'm gonna wait around for you to know a godddamn good thing when int comes knocking? I ain't one of them gringos who sniffs the dirt and runs your errands. You had your chance, amor. Damn ornage juice is gone. ah well...one more glass and that's what it means to sing the blues. I'm writing blues lyrics that haven't been sung since Howlin' Wolf broken his nose on a bullet microphone. If I could only find a pen...where the fuck did I put it...I'm all fired up. Whenre's that damn guitar when I need it/ I don't need. it/. ah, who are you? what did you say. what did you say to me? Elena, I'm sorry. so fucking sorry! Please forgive me. my arms feel like fire hoses. so tired. Vodka is tasteless. It's like sitting in a warm bathtub. I can't tell the difference between vodka being in my mouth and it being in the glass.

uh, wha? wha? I'm awake/ is it time to go to school, I mean work. so tired. forty motherfucking dollars from servpro cutting carpets and moving fucking donald duck telephones. bullshiet let me sleep. go away. I'll go next week. I'll get my shit together next week. You heard me! it's this damn weather. can't find work. I can';t. I don't need u or anyonhen I;m goood. I'm doin good all by myslef nad one e getm an e, x boot vdka. ahhhh/ jus tur th lit out. i'm ok. ok. ooooooooooooooooooooo g g g.......
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.