Monday, November 28, 2005

Anyone want to trade the last two days?

So anyway, I decided to re-arrange my bedroom for the first time in five years because my new larger bed will be delivered Tuesday or Wednesday of this week.
I mean, I moved everything, and many things I moved many times, but we all know how that is.
I guess it took four or five hours with all the rest breaks in between and due to my unfortunate spinal condition I ached liked a MoFo when I had finished.
I figured a nice hot shower would take care of some of those aches and pains so I jumped right in.
By the way, generic Head and Shoulders is a really nice shampoo. It makes your hair all soft and silky, and it smells good too.
While I was in the shower I heard a loud CLUNK, but I didn't pay much attention to it because the guy who lives next door is always making loud CLUNKS.
When I finished the shower I came out of the bathroom and there was Mother Boz in the kitchen on one knee holding on to the bar. I swear, I thought she had found religion at first, but no, she had slid, slid not fallen, and she was the loud CLUNK I heard while I was in the shower.
She asked me to help her up, which of course I did after much cursing under my breath because I get so frustrated when she falls.
I asked her if she was alright and she said yeah yeah yeah, and that was that.
Now here is where it gets interesting.
At about 12:30 am while I was reading the online Detroit News we have a power outage.
Ok, now I am sitting here in the dark in a newly re-arranged bedroom and I don't know where anything is, so I start stumbling around, knocking over, and tripping over anything that is in my path.
I remembered I had put a flashlight on the night stand so I groped around till I finally found it.
I did the whole candle thing and just sort of sat there waiting till I heard MB wake-up so I could warn her about no electricity.
I hear her stirring in her room so I go and warn her. We have a semi-intelligible conversation and she trudges off to the bathroom and I go back to my bedroom.
Five minutes later I hear another loud CLUNK and I run into the bathroom and there is MB sort of laying looking like a turtle that has been turned over on it's back.
I help her up, ask her if she is alright, and after she assures me that she is we go our separate ways.
The power comes back on after about two hours and I get up to set all the digital clocks and then I go back to bed.
I finally fall asleep, you know, it's really difficult to fall asleep when your bed is in a new position ...
At about 6:15 I wake up and I hear a tap tap tapping. I don't know what the fuck it is. I thought it might be someone at the door, but at six in the morning ... WTF.
The tapping keeps tapping and as my head clears I figure out it must be MB, so yeah, I hurry down to her room and there she is laying in the floor next to her bed tapping against the dresser with a pair of scissors.
She had tried to get up out of bed, but I guess she sort of slipped.
I helped her up again, asked if she was ok.
This time she sort of wasn't ok.
Her hip was giving her problems.
Yeah, old lady, hip, you think the worse, but it wasn't the worse, but it's bad enough.
She's bruised her hip and she isn't able to get up by herself and she is afraid to walk unless I help her, which I gladly do with a smile on my face ... every ... single ... time !!!
But anyway, it looks like I get to play evil hospital orderly like in One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest for the next couple of days ...
And did I tell you how much my back hurts???

Thanks for listening if you actually did.
This was very cathartic.

Sunday, November 27, 2005


Her mother was a loan officer at a branch of a local bank, who read self help books, and fantasized about being abducted by aliens.
Her father, who she hadn't see since her parent's divorce was rumored to be ...
Well, let's just say we'll be finding out more about her father as our story progresses.

Saturday, November 26, 2005

Changed her name and then he was a she

A rare pic of Nico from when she was a member of the Velvet Underground.

Look at the adam's apple bulging under her turtleneck.
Look at that mustache.
Look at those hips.
Look at that erection and it's futile attempt to escape the confines of her oh so tight, oh so snug fitting jeans.
Is it getting hot in here, or is it just me?

Nico, you're a MAN, admit it.

I bet she is reading the personals of some weird perverted sex newspaper looking for men who look like women looking for other men who look like women ... object amour.
Or maybe she is just checking out the after Thanksgiving sales at Sears.

Anyway, how was your Thanksgiving.
I heard that Nico's sucked, because she's a MAN ...
And being dead couldn't have helped much either.

I'll Be Your Mirror - The Velvet Underground & Nico

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Who needs TV when you've got T Rex

Random Play With a Twist
The first ten songs random songs that I didn't recognize until I checked.

1. ZZ Top Goes to Egypt - Camper Van Beethoven
2. Dig For Fire - The Pixies
3. Master and Slave - Cherry Poppin' Daddies
4. Let's Get Fucked Up - The Cramps
5. All The Young Dudes - Jill Sobule
6. Oh Miss Ohio - Gillian Welch
7. It Must Be Summer - Fountains of Wayne
8. Catholic Boy - Jim Carroll Band
9. Chris and Johnny - 4 AM Blues
10. Show Me Your Pussy - Lords of Acid

Wednesday, November 23, 2005

And now on with the news

This just in ...
Unable to cope with life, after his 15 minutes in the spotlight had passed, the artist once known as the dancing baby took his own life earlier today.

According to a spokesman, the dancing baby, real name Tyler Fresno, had been despondent since he had learned that his parents had squandered the vast fortune that he had earned in the mid 90's, it seemed that the laws governing child actors did not apply to the internet. That and a recent coke bust, and the realization that he would always be known as the dancing baby just proved to be too much for the now teenage Tyler to handle.


She had moved to Santa Rosa with her mother from Ohio just after her parents divorced when she was five years old.
In elementary school she had been a shy and moody child, shunned by the other girls, her looks as yet unappreciated by the boys.
In third grade the first time she refused to answer the teacher she was made to stay after school.
The second time she refused to answer she was sent to the office.
After the third time she spent the afternoon on a cot in the school nurse's office.
Finally, after the fourth time she refused to answer the teacher her mother was called and an appointment was arranged with a child psychologist.
This was a trend that would continue all her life.


Tuesday, November 22, 2005

If I am not me who am I?

Ya know, I think my favorite non-Boz persona is Francis Pottie.
He's a genuinely decent guy, and he's Canadian.
But ...
T-Dub is my inner child.
And ...
Bhagarna the Foreign Man he is me as idiot savant.
I guess that would make Dr Hunter Douglas ... Male Psychiatrist the man I wish I was.
Ehhhhhhh, Wing Loo, the Adorable Little Chinese Lad, he's definitely my spiritual side.
Anyway ...

Monday, November 21, 2005

What would the Duke say?

Gretchen Mol as Bettie Page

In the soon to be released or already released bio-pic on Bettie Page.

Saturday, November 19, 2005


As I slumped to the floor I began to remember a lot of things.
Silence ...
Flashes of light ...
John Cougar Mellencamp ...
Shaving in the bathroom mirror ...
Pin pricks ...
Men with crewcuts and grey suits ...
A long dark hallway ...
Where did one start and the other end?


Friday, November 18, 2005

I think I need to get out more

What do you think, does it look like the pillows are humping?
Or do I just need to get out more?


I'm charging the battery now. Hopefully that will get it going because I have a nine am appointment to get it looked at tomorrow.

Does anynone know how long it takes to charge a car battery from a battery charger?

Buck Naked Friday Part Two

We need an icon, we gotta have an icon.

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I couldn't believe what I saw.
I ran my hand across my forehead.
There were stitches.
I couldn't tell how many, there had to be eight, nine, at least ten of them.
I ran into the bathroom to get a closer look.
Yes, there were ten stitches across my forehead.
They looked fresh.
The skin around the stitches hadn't started to turn that sickening yellowish greenish blue color yet.
All of a sudden I felt woosy.
I turned to the toilet bowl.
I glanced into the waste basket next to the bowl.
It was filled with blood soaked tissue paper.
I tried to steady myself and called out for her.
She came quickly to the bathroom.
On wobbly legs I asked her what the fuck had happened.
She looked surprised, shook her head and said she couldn't believe I didn't remember.
As I slumped to the floor I began to remember.

[Link - That Night]

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Hark and Ferd and a story that goes nowhere

When I was stationed on Crete back in 70-71 I had two friends named Hark and Ferd.
Hark was married.
Ferd was single.
Most of the single guys had a crush on Hark's wife probably because of her long legs and her short skirts.
Hark's wife also had a whiny disposition which in small doses a lot of the guys I guess found endearing.
I guess you could have called her cute, maybe even pretty, except to me she always seemed to be sucking on a lemon.
Yeah, she wasn't my favorite person.
Hark was middle america and as middle class as you can get. His parents were both high school teachers in central Ohio, and Hark was a high school basketball and baseball star who got a baseball scholarship to Ohio University.
Ferd was irish urban working class from Boston with a half dozen brothers and sisters, and he was also a high school sports star, but no college.
Hark's wife?
She was from an upper middle class suburb of Cleveland who met Hark while they were students at OU.
Hark and Ferd were really tight.
If you want my honest opinion, I thought Ferd had more than a simple crush on Hark's wife. I thought he was in love with her, unrequited, but still in love.

Sidenote: There was quite a bit of single guy and married guy's wife stuff going on at the time. Not just unrequited, but a lot of the requited variety going on too.

It was the spring of 1971 and Hark's wife's sister flew over for a visit.
Can you see where this is going?

Yeah, Ferd fell in love with Hark's wife's sister and they eventually got married.

Ok, call my cynical, but I knew from the start that this marriage wasn't going to work. Come on, Hark's wife's sister was just a substitute for Hark's wife, it was obvious.
Not only that, I couldn't see Hark's wife's sister's upper middle class waspish upbringing meshing with Ferd's working class irish roots.
This marriage was doomed from the start.

Flash forward thirty years.
Through the miracle of the internet a bunch of us from the Crete 70-71 era were able to hook up. It was kind of cool, you know, retelling old war stories and catching up on what life had dealt a bunch of twenty year olds who were now fifty year olds.
Eventually, the online network sort of faded away and we drifted apart.
Hey, that's what happens.

Oh yeah, Hark and Ferd, and Hark's wife, and Hark's wife's sister ...

Ferd and Hark's wife's sister are living in Phoenix. He cleans pools and she works in an office, they play golf everyday, and have no kids.

Hark and Hark's wife had a couple of kids and were divorced.
Hark remarried.
Hark and his current wife are both high school teachers in eastern Ohio.
Hark's ex-wife, remarried and divorced a couple more times and is now a social worker and living alone in Buffalo. I bet she's still sucking on that lemon, and I bet she's a cat lady too!

That's it, there's no moral or anything, except that then, as now, my instincts suck.

Buck Naked Friday

There is a new phenomenon sweeping the blog world called Half Nekkid Thursday which is actually a pretty good idea except that I am not much of a joiner unless I have some means of control of the situation.
With that in mind I am starting a new feature called Buck Naked Friday, but instead of posting the pics on your blog you email them directly to me.
Multiple entries are not only accepted but encouraged.

Ok, I know the chances are slim and none, and slim just left town, that I will get any responses, but just thinking about it is giving me a bit of a chubby.


I wasn't sure what was going on.
I absentmindedly started scratching a freckle on the back of my wrist.
She sighed and told me to quit picking at or it would start bleeding just like it did last time.
I was going to tell her that I wasn't picking at it, I was scratching it, but figured what's the use, and said nothing.
She shook her head disapprovingly and returned to her book.
I saw an ant carrying a crumb almost half it's size slowly heading towards the bathroom.
I watched it for awhile trying to imagine how much I could carry if I had the strength of an ant.
I got up intending to step on the ant when I caught my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

[That Night-Link]

Wednesday, November 16, 2005


I woke up in a cold sweat, thrashing about under the covers.
She looked up from her book and asked if I'd had a bad dream.
I closed my eyes real tight for a few seconds, opened them, and stared at her real hard.
I took a deep breath, kicked the covers off and sat on the edge of the bed and told her that yeah, I guess I must have.

[That Night-Link]

It's good being Boz

Even with only an hour and a half sleep.

The wind blows free and so does he

Man, I doubt if I'll sleep at all tonight.
We've got a wind advisory and it must be gusting up to sixty miles an hour.
I've got enough problems trying to fall asleep, how am I supposed to .... ummmm, heh, nevermind.
Anyway, I've lost power three times tonight already, just for a split second, but still long enough to send every digital clock in the house into a 12:00 12:00 12:00 12:00 frenzy.
Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, huh, what, no, I wasn't asleep.
Ok, I'm not scared of the wind, oh no, it's nothing like that.
It's just that it, you know, it's just so noisy and stuff.
I'm soooooooooo tired.
Oh yeah, I heard gun fire about an hour and a half ago.
This reminds me of the time that Scout and Tom took the shortcut back from school the night of the open house, remember how windy it was that night.
His name was Tom, wasn't it.
No, it wasn't Tom, I just checked, it was Jem.
Where did I get Tom???
It is sooooooooooo fucking windy.
Tree branches scrapping against the house and windows.
Ceiling tiles rising and falling.
Floor boards creaking.
Lights dimming.
Back to the gunshot, or rifle shot.
Yeah, I'm pretty sure it was a rifle shot, because fire arm deer hunting season started yesterday, and it was probably some drunk hunter accidentally discharging his rifle. I mean, but still!!!
So anyway, yeah.
I think I'll turn on the tv and watch the farm reports, I've sort of lost track of the soybean futures the past couple ... DECADES.
But ha ...
I said ha ...
I can sleep all day today if I so desire.
So Mr. Wind go bite somebody else on the ass.

Even Don Quixote gets the blues

I don't get a lot of hateful feedback, but I get enough.
It's always from guys in their 30's who resent the fact that I am 55 years old but don't act like it.
Well, fuck 'em.
It's more than that though.
It's guys in their 30's who resent the fact that most of the handful of visitors I get are women in their 30's.
Hey, when I started writing this thing over three years ago I didn't write with a certain demographic in mind. I didn't try to cultivate a certain type of visitor. I just wrote ... whatever, hoping that someone might stumble in and liked what I had to say well enough to leave a comment every once in awhile.
For the most part it's worked.
Sure, there are times that I wish that I was one of those immensely popular blogs with tons of comments everyday, but ehhhhh.
I think I've found myself a comfortable little niche in my little corner of the internet.
I think I am pretty well known in the area of personal blogs.
I think my writing is fairly entertaining.

I guess what I am trying to say that if you don't like me, if you don't like what I write, if you don't like the way I lead my life .... who the fuck cares.

Oh yeah, if you attack people that I care about I will retaliate.
[See Previous Post]

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

Bring it on

Deleted comment

Hey Super-Bozu! How does it feel to be such a slimeball that you can actually capitalize on someone else's weakness in order to get cheap phone sex? How does it feel to know that the mother whose house you live in has moments of great disappointment when she considers the fact that her son grew up to be a pathetic loser who never did anything with his life? How does it feel to know that fantasy girl doesn't ever want to meet you in real life because, amongst other things, old age plus bad diet plus hormonal deficiency equals a really unpleasant smell? Please enlighten me!
justin | 11.15.05 - 9:19 pm | #

This is the guy who said that.

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How worried should I be? He might as well have LATENT tattooed on his forehead.

Fuck you Moody Blues

It's 2:15 in the afternoon and I am sitting here in a t-shirt and jeans, no shoes, no socks, no service, and I can't even get motivated enough to ...
Comb my hair
Lick my wounds
Look out the window
Pick up my socks
Take a couple of Tylenol
Make up my mind
Do the Hustle
Go back to bed
Kiss an angel good morning (thank you Charlie Pride)
Change my mind
Learn a foreign language
Turn on a light
Turn off a light
Turn on
Tune in
Drop Out (thank you Timothy Leary)
Drop Dead (Thank you Alfred E Neuman)
Check my attitude at the door
Scratch my balls, well, I can do that
Hope for the best
Expect the wurst, hahaha
Inherit the wind
Reap the wind
Pass the wind, ooops, sorry
Worship false idols
etc ...
etc ...
etc ...

I lied, I'm not wearing jeans, but most of the rest is true.

Monday, November 14, 2005

E Tawas Time

So, I get a call from the guy that rakes leaves for me at EIGHT THIRTY IN THE FUCKING MORNING saying that since the weather for the next few days is going to bad that he would like to rake the leaves this afternoon. Sure, fine, go ahead, whatever ...
It's now 3:11 in the afternoon and he hasn't shown up yet. Being that it is at least a four hour job and it will be pitch dark in three hours I think he's a no show.

Actual leaves from my actual front yard.
Actually, it was taken last year.

Update: The leaf guy just showed up with his girl friend/wife and another guy at 3:45, so maybe they will get it done before dark.

Reading is fun and mental

A year ago at this time I had no books in my library, actually I didn't even have a library, mostly because I had quit reading about 15 years ago.
I just counted and now I have twenty five books in my library, that's if you can call the top of two dressers between the speakers of my CD player a library.
Yeah, twenty five books. I haven't read all of them, but I will, well, except for that Judy Blume book which I'll probably give to my niece if she comes up for Thanksgiving like she said she would.
There's quite a few Stephen King novels. He's pretty easy to pick up and kind of hard to put down.
Then I've got a couple by Joseph Heller, both Catch-22 and it's sequel that I can't remember the title of of, that Belle sent to me, and yeah, Catch-22 is probably my favorite read of all time.
Then there is a poetry anthology that Melissa sent to me that just screams BEAT GENERATION with William Carlos Williams, and Ferlinghetti, and Ginsberg, and the rest of the best minds of their generation ...
Then there are the Salinger's and the Lynda Barry's, that really started me reading again, that Amy sent to me, and I don't know who had a more profound effect on me Seymour or Marlys.
I can't forget all the bargains I've gotten for myself at the library book sale rack. There's The Godfather by Puzo, The Boys of Summer by Kahn, and I, Robot by Asimov, and Alice in Wonderland by Carroll, and some novel by Kafka that isn't Metamorphosis.
Of course there's the crappy crime novels that I love to read. There's one about the murder of Bob Crane, you know Colonel Hogan from Hogan's Heroes, and then there's the one about death of George Superman Reeves which could have been suicide or could have been murder and could have been a lot better written ...
Ok, yeah, I still haven't read the Henry Millers. I'm such a poseur, but seriously, I'll get to him eventually.
So yeah, reading is a good thing and I wonder why I ever stopped in the first place.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

I trust no one, not even myself.

Parents murdered, girl kidnapped.
Am I overly cynical or does something seem fishy here?
Here's my take on it.
The kidnapper and the girl were boyfriend and girlfriend, the parents disapproved, the teenagers killed them, and then took off.

Seriously he says

I seriously think that the writer of one of the blogs I read is going insane. We'll just leave it at that, but if you think it may be you, maybe you should seek some help, seriously.

Anyway, I got a flu shot on Friday and it has knocked me on my ass. It feels like a dump trunk has run over the left side of my body, and I've been sneezing all day, ten at a time.
Ahhhhhh ...

And I'm feeling feverish too, too, too.

And I'm fat.
Hello, I'm boz and I weigh 252 pounds.
Ok, I'm six foot three so I'm not fat to the point where I have to tool around the Evil Empire in a motorized cart, but I'm fat ... fat ... fat ...
I am seriously going on a diet starting two days ago, and I'm going to try and take off 30 pounds by my birthday which is like seven months away.

I guess that's it.
I'm going to have a candy bar and go to bed.

Friday, November 11, 2005

I'm not dead yet

So, what have I been doing while I haven't been posting?

I've been reading the Shawshank Redemption part of S. King's Different Seasons.

And ...
I've been downloading and burning CDs, including that one by Lucinda Williams that I can't remember the name of, you know what it is though, it's her last studio release, the one that she says fuck a few times on.
I've also downloaded and burnt Wayward Angels by Kasey Chambers, and I've downloaded but haven't burnt Furnace Room Lullabys by Neko Case.
I've also sent a get well CD to a friend of a whole lot of Nancy Sinatra stuff.
Hmmm, a lot of music going down, huh!
That's because music is in my stream, as Lucinda William's would say.
Whoa ...
A lot of music by WOMEN going down, excellent.

Oh yeah, I bought the book Heroes and Villains: The True Story of the Beach Boys off of EBay tonight. The book was only fifty cents, the s&h was 3 bucks minus a penny. I have to get into that s&h racket, that's where all the money is. Murry Wilson, their father is crazier than bat shit. Yeah, it's Murry, not Murray, or Muarry, or Marie, or Fred ... Murry. Good old Mur' used to pop out his glass eye and make Brian stare into the empty eye socket as a means of inspiration and punishment. Good old Mur' also cuffed Brian on the head so many times that he was deaf in one ear. Good old Mur' also tied Brian to a tree in the front yard because, well because, he could, I guess.
There's also a rumor that GOM once made Brian take a dump on a plate in the living room in front of the rest of the family.
I mean, I really want to read this book!!!

Finally, on a sad note. I had to buy fat pants today.
Fat ...
Pants ...

Monday, November 07, 2005

Pick a number between 1 and 48730

It's official.
I am more Boz than I am Ken.
I surrender.
Long live Boz.
Long live The Grand Ennui.
Is this good or bad?
I don't know, I wonder what Boz thinks.
I've pretty much said all that there is to say.
Blah ...
Slap, kick, bite, fade left, fade right, drool.

Did I ever tell you about the time I was in the middle of a riot when I was in Japan?
And then there was that time I almost burnt down the barracks.
And I don't know how many times some drunken Japanese local yelled Atomic Bomb, Atomic Bomb, Atomic Bomb at me, and I drunkenly yelled back Baatan Death March Baby, Baatan Death March.
But anyway ...

Sunday, November 06, 2005


He stood there waiting as a million questions went through my mind.
As I was about to speak an alarm went off and the room went dark.
The door burst open and there was a white hot flash as the man with the crew cut and the grey suit collapsed on the floor.
Someone took hold of my arm and led me out the door.


Saturday, November 05, 2005


Who was I kidding.
She was going to blame me for this.
Somehow all of this was going to be my fault.
I knew what was going through her mind at this very moment.

He shouldn't have pressed me.
He should have let it run it's course.
He shouldn't have left.
It's his ritual.
It's not my fucking ritual.

The door opened and the taller and older man with the crewcut and the grey suit came into the room.
He smiled at me and asked if I had any questions.



A voice came over a speaker that was mounted over the door.
It was a man's voice.
I assumed he had a crew cut and wore a grey suit.
He told me that if I were hungry there was food in the refrigerator, and that I should help myself.
I spoke for the first time.
I asked them what they wanted with me.
There was no answer, just music.
It sounded like the fm local classic rock station.
If it were a local station that would be a good thing.


Friday, November 04, 2005


How long had I been out?
Was it a few hours.
Was it a few days.
I scratched my chin, there was stubble.
I had shaved last night, or was that the dream?
I had a gut feeling it had to be at least twenty four hours.

She had to have missed me by now.
She must have called the authorities by now.

But the men with the crewcuts and grey suits, they had to be some kind of authority, didn't they?

She must be frantic by now.
God, I hope she is.



There were two men standing before me.
They both had crewcuts, they both wore grey suits.

The younger and the smaller of the two men stepped forward grabbed my wrist and took my pulse.
He then took a small flashlight out of his pocket and checked my vision.
He wrote something in a small notebook and showed it to the other man.

Without a word they turned around and left the room.
The door clicked and locked behind them.

I appeared to be in some sort of break room or staff lounge.

The left sleeve of my shirt was cut off above the elbow.
My forearm stung.
I peeled back a bandage to reveal two little pin pricks.

These were not poachers.



I was in the bathroom shaving.
I loved the bathroom mirror it always made me look better than I actually looked.
She was already in bed and she called to me to hurry up.
I told her I'd be there in a second and I started to rinse the lather off my face.
I looked back in the mirror while reaching for a towel.
And there was that shape again reflected in the mirror coming towards me.

A hard slap to the face brought me back to reality.
I shook my head trying to get rid of the cobwebs and then I opened my eyes.



The shape came closer.
It was definitely two, maybe three people.
They were carrying rifles.
They had to be poachers
This didn't look good.
I knew I was in serious trouble.
It was too late to jump in my car and take off.
A fleeting image of Ned Beatty squealing like a pig passed through my mind.
I had to do something.
I had to say something.
Think, think, think.
I had to convince them that I wasn't some kind of a cop.
I had to convince them I was a good old boy just like them.
I started to speak, and then I felt a blunt object strike the back of my head.
My knees began to buckle, and then I blacked out.



It had started this morning at breakfast.
She looked troubled and I asked if anything was wrong.
As soon as I spoke I knew what her answer would be.
There would be no answer.
Just a blank stare that looked right through me, not even acknowledging my existence.



I couldn't make out what it was, it was too far off in the distance.
All I could see was a shape rustling towards me.
It could have been a man, it could have been an animal, it could have been anything.

Why did I stop?
So what if there had been poachers.
What was I going to do, make a citizens arrest?

I could hear whatever it was now coming towards me.
I was getting nervous.

Why hadn't I gotten my flashlight out of the glove compartment?
Why hadn't I got a tire iron out of the trunk?
Why hadn't I kept that gun that my brother had given me for Christmas ten years ago?
Why did I let her silences get the best of me?


Standing there in the cool November air I decided it was time to go home.
It was part of the ritual.
I'd get mad.
I'd drive.
I'd go home.
All would be forgiven.
I took a last drag on my cigarette, and flicked it in the air.
Then by the orange light of the burning ember I saw something.


I had left in a hurry that night.
Her silence was driving me crazy and I knew I had to get out before I said, or did, something I would regret.
So I drove.
I always drove.

Thursday, November 03, 2005


It was late, and I had been driving non-stop most of the night.
I saw flashes up ahead.
There was a lot of wild game in this area and I am sure they were muzzle flashes.
It had to be poachers.
I slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.
I turned off my engine and sat and listened.
The only sound was John Cougar Mellencamp singing a little ditty about Jack and Diane.
I opened my door.
Ding ding ding ding
Looked around and got out.
It was still.
Maybe they weren't flashes after all.
Maybe it was just my imagination.
Maybe I should just get back in my car and take off.
Maybe I will after my head clears and I finish the cigarette that I promised myself I wouldn't have.

Lose this blog

Before noon on thursday I would like to ...
1. Get an email.
2. Discover a cure for anything.
3. Get a phone call from someone who isn't trying to sell me something.
4. Kick See somebody's ass.
5. See the movie Stewardess School.
6. Lose twenty five pounds.
7. Tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.
8. Increase the size of my #117 by 11.7 per cent.
9. I don't know but it has something to do with boobs.
10. Cry manly tears.

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Steal this blog

I just read my grand niece's blog.
She's 16 years old and she went out trick or treating on Monday, but she said she only stayed out for two and a half hours!
The last time I went out trick or treating I was twelve years old and I barely made it down the street and back, twenty minutes tops.
Trick or treating isn't for teenagers unless you're a tard, and she isn't a tard, she may be a cutter, and a bulimic, and have a lesbian for a best friend, but still ... she isn't a tard.
Ok, she is on the high school golf team, but still ...
Ok, the Grand Dufus is her brother, but still ...
Ok, Mother Boz is her great grandmother, and don't get me started on MB, but still ...
Ok, her dog Lucky may be retarded, but still ...
I mean all that should be balanced out by the fact that I am her grand uncle.
Don't you think???
Am I right?
Well, am I?

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

Random play music stuff

1. Hard Lovin' Loser - Richard and Mimi Farina
Richard Farina and Bob Dylan had an intense rivalry in the early to mid 60's. Farina was jealous of Dylan's musical success and Dylan was jealous of Farina's novel Been Down So Long It Looks Like Up To Me. The rivalry became so intense that after Dylan was injured in a motorcycle accident Farina went him one better and was killed in a motorcycle accident. Mimi Farina is the younger much prettier, but less talented sister of Joan Baez.
2. Hey Paula - Paul and Paula
Early 60's I love you-uuuu song. Paul and Paula were supposedly brother and sister which makes the song a lot kinkier than you would first think.
3. Day-O (The Banana Boat Song)- Harry Belafonte
The song that supposedly sounded the death knell of rock and roll and ushered in the new musical craze ... Calypso!!!
4. Susan - The Buckinghams
A Chicago based group that had four of five hits in the mid-60's. When I was stationed on Crete I was friends with a guy from Chicago who had been in a band that had opened for the Buckinghams all over the tri state area.
5. Time - The Chambers Brothers
A very long-ggggggggggggggg song that was perfect for what was then called Underground Music circa 1967-69. I'm pretty sure the lead singer had an orgasm around the 10 minute mark, at least it sounded like he did. Circa, hahaha.
6. Skip A Rope - Henson Cargill
Country hit that became a cross over pop hit in 1968 about how our words can poison the minds of our children ... WHAT ABOUT THE CHILDREN!!!
7. Pink Cadillac - Bruce Springsteen
Pank Cadillac, Pank Cadillac, Pank Cadillac.
8. Wasn't Born To Follow - The Byrds
Twangy guitar and harmony band that covered Dylan songs. They were led by Jim McGuinn who changed his name to Roger McGuinn on the advice of his guru. Why Roger, why not Krishnu, or Rami, or Egbert???
9. Dear Lady Twist - Gary US Bonds
Between the time that Elvis was drafted and the Beatles hit American popular music was very bleak. The blackness was all but wrung out of it and the scence was dominated by the likes of Frankie Avalon, Bobby Rydell, and Fabian. Gary US Bonds was an exception. He was a real Cajun rocker of god only knows what racial mix.
10. Brandy (You're A Fine Girl)- Looking Glass
She really was a fine girl, nuff said, because it's time for the hockey game.