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No ranking on my spouse, today. I awoke to a call on the answering machine, just after doing the tuck-and-roll into the comforter. Miss Jane, tearfully, telling me to pick up. Not good news, first thing. Damn those telemarketers, anyway. I used to answer the phone when it rang, once upon a time. I have some sympathy for the poor bastards. In my minds eye I see them, as galley slaves lashed-to-the-oars, stroking to the beat of some diabolical inspiration tape. With headsets on. Sympathy stops there, though. Especially when the phone turns into just another big commercial, and I avoid it when something bad happens. Stopped for traffic ahead, she was rammed from the rear by some ex-colonel from the army. Who didn't noticed the column of traffic until about ten feet away from the rear bumper of the SAAB. Boom, Shaka-Lacka. She was OK... so was the car, really (they are safe cars!). Not so for le colonel's GOP wagon. When I got there, it was bleeding yellow-green radiator bile from behind it's broken grillework... sucked in like an ninety-year-old toothless guy in a gurning competition. Ug-lay. He's got good insurance, though. Worse could happen. I eventually made my way to the studio... and the bumperstickers were done! After three years of beaurocratic bullshit... of which the U-Va system excels. As if my procrastination skills need any outside help. But, they look good... better than the .tiff files appeared. One, for the plus column. Appalling, the lack of response for the fund-drive zydeco show... if not for three radio friends, I'd be penniless. At least the DJs were inspired. Dag, it was so much fun to do, too. Rollicking for two hours, with the latin DJ as my co-pilot. I thought the phones were dead. The incentive was, apparently. The office gave me the tickets for the Buckwheat Zydeco show that didn't go in the marathon... but I couldn't find anyone to accompany me. What a waste. Of effort. Relieved when I fired up the BBC, I took a walk back to the amphitheater... decorated with locust trees in full oriental-style bloom. The air, heavy with lavendar scent. Killer, for the sinuses... surreal to behold.
Always, with the good and bad. Beats tragedy, though. |
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