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"I'm a lazy sod" ...Johnny Rotten The weather was just too ideal to do anything as mundane as bathe in brake cleaner. Gone, the opressive murk... so easy to forget how sunshine looks under crystal clarity. Sapphire sky. Onto to other things. Like just driving. Managed to make a show of it... passed on some more salsa to the folks at Orbits. At where I have not danced for three years. And I am still dying to achieve a terrific buzz at their bar... but they've dismantled the Guinness tap! Bloody Hell! Kim and I rattled on, briefly... she with a pile of W2's and a wrist in a cast. They're good to me... for as seldom as I see them. Thank god every town has got a slacker contingent... perhaps I should say, "Bohemian" subculture. Man cannot live with NASCAR. Alone. If anyone needs to know, a case of Habaneros will cost you 21 bucks. 8 pounds. That'll add up to a lot of sore bums. Fire-breathing Barking Spiders. Many to scratch butts like dogs on sidewalk. My mission. Can I get a witness!? First time I've ever had to buy peppers, but it's a while 'til anything pops up in the scotch bonnet patch. Hated to pull a weed, growing up... but it's a great antidote to computer-bound in the Logan's Run that is NoVA. Sounds boring, but I love to squish bare toes in the dirt.
(fast rockabilly) I want my Lovin' My Sweet, Sweet Lov-in' ...Squishy! I can dream. If I had a dime for every word that Dianne replied to me on our extended tour of the Piedmont, I couldn't afford a Slim Jim. I must be one boring son-of-a-bitch. Invaded her space in the kitchen to bang out some pesto sauce, when we got home. Big mistake. This range ain't big enough for the both of us. Chuck (recording studio) called up, asked to drop by for a bit of gab. Affirmative. He arrives, to stony silence, and much stomping. She disappears to play with eBay for two hours... mentions as she passes through the room that she and Eva are talking about a vacation in Myrtle Beach. She may have to go without me... theme park beaches ain't my stick. A long weekend in Ocracoke would be a "go." I'd rather wait to go deep south this winter... when we can go barefooted while the rest of the east coast is freezing their fannies off. That's when I need the recharge the most. And I'd mostly like to have some input, to start with. This may be what we call "passive aggressive" behavior. Good Lord, Mr Freud. I'm starting to think evil. The devil on one shoulder is popping caps in the angel on the other one. If I gotta go... I'll go down Swinging. Where there's lights and laughter Booze and Blondes and lots of sad, sad singing. I'll sober up tomorrow and cry all day, I know At least I'll go down swingin' What a swinging way to go. Thank you, Porter Wagonner, for completing today's soundtrack. |
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