The Blues is killing Me
But I’m A Fighting Back
Full moon last night. Had a wonderful evening hanging at Mehmet’s Bar. Mehmet’s is more like an outdoor cafe. Actually, all the tables are outside. The only inside seating is on the second floor, but no one goes up there except to use the facilities, the crapper. Mehmet’s overlooks the beach and last night there was a cooling breeze coming from the Med that sucked the heat from the streets. Life is bearable when you are listening to the good r & b and the blues with the smell of the sea in the air and a little wind in your sails.
Slept well, woke up for the first time in many a week not lying in a moist pool of sweat. The heat wave seems to have eased and I’m feeling good. Had me a hearty breakfast, tomato, olive, and hotdog omelet washed down with generous amounts of Coke. When I opened the Coke I looked under the lining in the cap and found that I won a free liter. I walked to the bank and the cash machine worked, which made me happy cause half the time it doesn’t. I’m on a roll. I stopped at the liquor store and got some beers and cigs for later.
Overhead though some clouds were beginning to appear ‘the powers at be’ (one of my new favorite expressions) decided that the John Dog wasn’t going to have a ‘Happy Days’ Richey gets a hickey day. It was going to be a ‘Happy Tree People’ day instead. Because when I took off my socks to get ready for the beach I noticed that my legs where covered with red bumps of various shapes and sizes. Some of them were oozing. No, no, not again attack of the oozing puss filed sores. Shit, fuck, piss, god damn mother fucker; what else can one say in these situations? Sometime I wish that a little blue squirrel with chain saw a blazing would burst into my room and hack both my legs off. Rev up the motor and dig in. Have a ball slashing away; blood all over the room covering the walls, the bed, the computer, and everything else including me and the fuzzy little blue rodent. Get it over with.
It felt good getting that off my chest. Think I’ll pop open a cold one now. Time for Weird News dateline Chicago - LaChania Govan said she got bounced around by her cable company when she called to complain. She made dozens of calls and was even transferred to a person who spoke Spanish — a language she doesn’t understand. Understandably, she got p.o.ed and said a few things.
When she got her August bill from the company she had no trouble understanding she’d made somebody mad. It was addressed to "Bitch Dog." Damn, if she was my wife she’d probably be getting most of her letters addressed that way me being the John Dog and all.
Here’s a better one from the same story, In another case, Peoples Energy customer Jeffery Barnes started getting letters addressed to "Jeffery Scrotum Bag Barnes."
He said, "I had no bad words (with them) at all. I guess the earliest letter is dated in May and from then on up until now my name has been listed as Jeffery Scrotum Bag Barnes and I have no idea why."
Sounds like Peoples Energy needs to be more vigorous in their employee drug screening procedures. Some low paid stoner doing data entry for minimum wage probably just got bored one day. We’ve all been there haven’t we? Do something stupid at work that’s gonna hit the fan after you’ve quit. Stick it the boss man before you go. Joe’d be bragging to his stoner buddies about it and they would be saying, ‘Yea, that was cool man, way cool dude. Sticking it to the maannn. Righteous’
Now if Joe Stoner hadn’t resigned and the boss man fingered him for the deed, I’m sure he’d be getting a letter with a pink slip in it addressed to Joe Fart Breathed Slacker Stoner.
These are cute little tidbits which are pale in comparison to the e-mails that I got from my psycho ex-girlfriend. Have the children leave the room before I reel off her Top Ten Dirtiest Salutations.
Here goes;
Dear You Worthless Piece of Limp Cocked Shit,
Dear You Scum Sucking Mongrel,
Dear You Have no Right to Live Disgusting Dog,
Dear Kill Yourself and Spare the Rest of the Women of the World,
Dear Eat Shit and Die (an oldie but it still works),
Dear Pig Faced Lying Bastard,
Dear Mother Fucking Jerk Off Ass Wiped Used Tampon,
Dear Selfish Whore of a Man,
Dear You Fucked Up my Life, Now, I’m gonna Fuck Up Yours,
Dear Sleazy Ass Sucking Devil,
After the salutation she’d tell me how much she missed me, how lonely and empty she felt without me, how she loved me and wanted me back.
Sorry, not in this lifetime babe. I tried to be nice in my replies, but finally I had to block her e-mail address.
Hope is a hard thing to have when you’ve been kicked around. You get abused, used, and refused for enough time, a month of days, season after season. year after year, it wears you down. When it gets to the point that even a Simon and Garfunkel song can’t bring you up then you gotta listen to some Jawbreaker, just to remind you that some folks got it worse than you and you’re best to count your blessings.
Words from "Kiss The Bottle." by Jawbreaker
It gets loneliest at night down at the liquor store beneath the neon sky. By moonlight. Six a.m. the floor comes alive with lice. The pan’s dried up so tight with hardened beans. We’re hungry. So I lean on you sometimes just to see you’re still there. Your feet can’t take the weight of one, much less two. We hit concrete. How were we born into this mess? I know I painted you a prettier picture, baby. We were run out on a rail. Fell from the wagon to the night train. **I kissed the bottle. I should’ve been kissing you. You wake up to an empty night with tears for two.** Cigarettes they fill the gaps in our empty days, in our broken teeth. We’re jonesing. Say mister, can you spare a dime? Some change could make a change, could buy some time, some freedom or an ear to hear my story. It’s all I’ve got. My fiction. Beats the hell out of my truth. A palm upturned burnt blue. Don’t call it sunburn. You’ve been shaking on the job. Just one drink ahead of your past. There’s a white light coming up. You draw the blinds hoping it’ll pass. **I kissed the bottle. Should’ve been kissing you. You wake up to an empty night with tears for two."** -
I’m humbled so when I read stuff like that. I’m just a hack with a blog, but that song be some real poetry. Think I’ll splash some paint around tomorrow, if it’s not too hot in the morning. Maybe I’ll blog and maybe I won’t. Saw the old man in white again, but this time his shirt was black. Something to think about. Need to decide if I’m up for the battle, heaven and hell stuff, gods and demons. It’s been a long time since I played that game. Been benched by the pain. But the pain is a chronic thing. It ain’t gonna go away and I keep running out of pain killers. The drug store is a long walk on bum legs. If I fight and win at least my soul will feel some relief. If I loose, well, corpses don’t feel no pain. We’ll see.
