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.......

Maybe not.

A trip into modern America today as my $0 budget videography business gets off the ground. I need a few items for my computer. Such as a 6 pin female to 4 pin male firewire adapter. And a firewire pci card to install on my computer. And what else? A hard drive enclosure for these old hard drives I have lying around.
So I went to Best Buy to get some idea what these things look like and ended up in the music dept. listening to stories about chili recipes and getting my fingers on the pianos in there. Not bad at all. Weighted keys. I might buy one if I can get a real job.
What else? Oh, I'd forgotten I was supposed to be looking at real items for the business. It's corporate America, the camcorder associate knew less about camcorders than I do. The computer accessories guys were well informed but the products were at least 75% more expensive than online. An adapter that's $6 online was $33 there. But I see what I need to order to get video of Ken's chickens on my computer and edited. The lesson of the day is that while computers are changing the way we communicate I don't know anyone who voted in favor of this change. It just seeped into our lifestyles like water into the basement of those apartments on Lafayette. Resistance is futile, I see, but has it always been this way? Have social conventions changed so rapidly before this? I know it is old fashioned and cliche to say that things are changing too fast, but this time I think it's true. Things are changing way too fast. A kid goes to school with a cell phone and comes home with a computer virus.
I feel that my encounter with the Gislaine family in Quebec was not random. God really might have brought me (a space journalist) into the home of a completely old fashioned family whose dynamics would never have been popularized...had we never met. It's my responsibility to immortalize them because they won't do it themselves and they have the secret humanity will eventually need. I guess they are the fundamental family, like a seed of an extinct plant. There should be tours of their junk yard...how hard they worked to salvage every scrap...the difference between them and the sloths stumbling around Best Buy IS UNBELIEVABLE. I'm pretty sure one or the other path is doomed. Can I write a record of the Gislaine family? I mean, it's possible, but I'm in another universe from theirs right now. I may go back and live with them as a cultural/spiritual exchange. Ha! They're like 200 miles away but on a different planet. I'm telling you that when the Best Buys of the world have decayed the only people living will be descendants of the Gislaine family. They were timeless and were lords of their castle. The words, "Honey, do you know where the firewire adapter is?" will never be spoken in that house. Self sufficient is how I would describe it and I don't use that term lightly.

In other news, the press room reading has been postponed due to liquor deficiency. Soon!

Tonight! Live at the Press Room

Fucking Kenny, you better get your ass over to the Press Room tonight. I can not play piano like you and I can't even play piano like me and still read the poem. I know we didn't get a chance to rehearse and I haven't printed out the poem yet and we are both barely dragging our corpses through the world but when are we going to do this performance. I've got my whole computer system figured out so I can upload video and stuff. I really think I can do it now. How can I go on? And we still haven't gotten the chicken footage! Shit, are we going to blame a hurricane? I won't do it. Please call me.
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.