Oh my my my

So I was sitting and thinking "OK, I will finally get off my ass after the extended authorial vacation and start writing again." I figure if Phil Rossi can write seven novels and produce 237 podcasts, (and knock out a couple of babies along the way), every five days at least I can post something about something on my long neglected blog. I fired up the computer and dramatically cracked my knuckles, (always a strong way to kick things off), and stared at the blank canvas, (ok, laptop screen), in front of me, and stared at it.......and looked some more.......and after some more interminable staring just said screw it and started typing whatever the fingers decided to produce. The following is finally what I wrote. Upon review and edit I think I need to get back into therapy.

.............................................................................................

David Bowie was surveying the parcel of land that seemed to stretch to nowhere. There was a chill wind in the air which was strange for that time of year, stranger still that there was any wind at all on the moon, as the moon has no atmosphere, which makes the whole wind thing highly unlikely. So it was a strange day indeed.

Anyhoo.......

"Semmthin taint right heah" muttered Bowie as he mopped his glittery brow....."I smell trouble." His companion grunted in affirmation, the steadfast pistolero was a llama of few words but you could read his black moods clearly in the way he spit or shivered his hindquarters and at this moment spit was spittling and hindquarters were shivering quicker than a 1970's motel room bed that had just been fed a fistful of quarters.

Trouble was nigh.

Bowie and the llama moved slowly ahead on the backs of their large space seahorses looking for what they didn't know, they just knew that whatever it was, it was coming and soon. Bowie turned as he heard a rock clatter behind him and there before him was what he half expected to find and dreaded more than having to eat Mama Bowie's cream of mushroom and sweet potato quesadilla sopapilla surprise. "The guddum monkey...........I knew it", he muttered. "State your business monkey and clear off willingly or get cleared by me and the llama. You know if I was willing to do the China Girl video I ain't skeered or too proud to do you in like I did all my Ziggy Stardust era credibility."

The monkey laughed the laugh of a thousand Full House live studio audiences full of demons and shouted from his perch "CHINA GIRL WAS AWESOME COMPARED TO THE PANTS....HEY YOU KNOW BOWIE WHAT PANTS YES BOWIE YOU KNOW TELL ME BOWIE WHAT'S UP WITH THOSE PANTS YOU WORE IN THAT DANCING IN THE STREET VIDEO WITH MICK JAGGER BOWIE HAH?!!? WERE YOU HIGH AS HELL ON GLUE OR SOMETHING BOWIE TO WEAR PANTS LIKE THAT BOWIE? DID IMAN KNOW YOU WERE GOING TO WEAR THOSE PANTS BOWIE??!?!? WHAT DID JAGGER SAY BOWIE??!?!?! C'MON BOWIE TELL ME ABOUT THE PANTS TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE THINKING BOWIE ABOUT THE DANCING PANTS BOWIE?!?!?!"

Bowie pulled his 45. and took five clean shots at the monkey who suddenly evaporated into a cloud of fairy dust, gone for the moment but sure to return. He had regretted the pants for decades. He kept a bellyful of resentment and blame that he would foist on Jagger, on the bottle, on Nipsy Russell, on MTV and "Triple J", J.J. Jackson, (and to a lesser degree Martha Quinn with who he had fathered four carnival freaks), but deep down he knew he had only himself to blame for falling prey to the allure of those captivating billowing trousers. He was resigned to the fact that he alone would carry the curse of the weird Dancing in the Street pants and the monkey that came with it across the moon for the rest of his days, or at least until his lawyers could get a copyright injunction against YouTube and take down the videos.

As he glumly began the long ride back to his moon ranch and the waiting arms of Iman he noticed the llama staring at him quizically. "Wuts on yer mind llama?" he queried. The llama simply said, "dude go back to rehab. You're talking to a moon llama."

And so he did.

The end.

Funny

I've been thinking a lot about dead friends lately, two in particular. One named Jimmie, one named John, and how they were quite the same at certain points in their lives until the fork in the road came up and one went thisaway and the other went thataway.

I'm trying to go thataway.

If this sounds morbid it really is not, the subject just happens to be relevant to much of the mumbo and the jumbo floating round and round the noggin.

On a wholly positive note my fish in the yard pond had babies, (lots of them.....my fish is like the octomom only smarter), and three of my tadpoles grew into hopping bopping cool little green frogs. I just tell them that I'm God and they should pray to me for I created their world. 99% sure the message is getting through.

BOINK!!!!

Oh hi!

Is this thing on?

I gotta gotta get back to it.

So much to say......

So much to do.....

Beepdeedooboo!

Words, (nerds?)

I've been archiving shit off this blog, editing and revamping and whatnot to use in the great, nay greatest, American novel for some time now.

It's weird to go back over it sometimes, like a time capsule of how different my life was not so very long ago. Some of it is bad but most of it is good to read. For a long time when revisited some of the more chuckle inducing stuff I wondered if I would get that sense of humor back. I think it has found me again, I have been amusing myself pretty well and I think the stuff in the book to be is pretty good.

OK, you know me....I think it's great. Still.......

I don't know if I will ever really fire this thing up to what it was, with the frequency of posts and all'a that. I'm busy as hell these days and have a lot more creative outlets, but I'll try.

For you, my lovely public.

A piece of advice....don't ever eat at Checker's. Ever. Like, not once in your entire life even out of dumb curiosity. Trust me, I have taken that bullet for all of us. While most of my internal organs have the tenacity of a wolverine and the tensile strength of worm silk my stomach got a white trash fall off the porch style beating worthy of a hall of fame episode of Cops within ten minutes of ingesting that swill.

The chili dog, it was tasty, to be honest.

Doesn't Sarah Palin just seem like the most obnoxious bitch you would ever have to sit next to at a back to school night or soccer game or something of the like? She makes me want to throw appliances at the TV set when I see her. I think it's that weird speedbump thing on the back of her head that sets me off, either that or her insane position on things and completely retarded ascendancy to something larger than the Vice Presidency of a home owner's association, (or a position of similar meaningless stature).

My cat is insane.

Jimmy

My friend Jimmy died on Friday.  What a waste.  Rest well big man, and thanks for the laughter, the friendship, and all the years we had.    You'll be missed by many, and certainly by me.

Communication

I talked to someone on the phone last night so we could figure out how to get their IM to work so we could then hang up the phone and immediately start a discussion over IM, which we did.

I just thought that was funny.

Pussies

Really, what happened to people?

It's not like I consider myself some tough as leather lion killer, (I love kitties and am way too pretty to be made of leather). I'm not some crusty old bastard that scaled the cliffs during the Normandy invasion, someone who survived the plague or won a streetfight with the bad guys from Roadhouse or any of that kind of thing but I think I'm somewhat resilient, or at least accepting of things that are beyond my control. I was amazed this weekend at how many others seem to not be.

I am of course referring to rain.

I mean, it's rain. What the fuck are you going to do about it? You're on the ground, it falls from the sky, you get wet. Big deal. I was out and about amongst the rabble on Saturday when a monsoon with the sideways rain deal blew in. The hysteria that arose was just bizarre, one woman was running around with her gross hair in her hands screaming to either God or no one in particular, "THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE!!!!"

Not acceptable by who's definition? It's FUCKING RAIN you self-absorbed harridan. Rain. Nature. The circle of life, evaporation evaporation the water cycle the water cycle, (from a film strip I saw in the 1st grade, a catchy little ditty there as it has stuck with me all these years).

She was just one of many that were grousing and whining and getting insulted by getting rained on. I thought the whole thing was pretty hysterical, I could have done without the 36 pound underpants that were a side effect of getting soaked like that but otherwise, it was quite comical.

They're drops of water, not flaming dollops of lava or hunks of dogshit that are coming down. Unless you have a dedicated aversion to standing in a shower and follow that course religiously I just don't get the angst. If you do so however, feel free to stay the fuck away from me as I prefer to surround myself with the hygenic and sweet smelling amongst us.

Maybe that whole 40 days and 40 nights thing wasn't such a bad idea. The world could use a bath.

Oh and to the sorority hag with the blistered third degree sunburn all over her back and shoulders, try some SPF or at least putting on a blouse. Oozing puss and cracked red skin just isn't the look that will get Warren from the lacrosse team to slip you that roofie that you're hoping for.

Just saying.