Anyways, I may have mentioned that I went ahead and bought the entire series a couple weeks ago. I couldn't stand it anymore, having not been back to that crazy town with all the zaniness and hijinks since 2007. And all that post-civil war Montana cocksucking.
So last night I finally threw in the first disc and watched Episodes 1 and 2. And after having spent so much time away from the series and so much time being a character in the series, just in B'ham and Piqua, and, you know, modern day, give or take, I have just this to say on my reunion with David Milch's writing:
"Poetry."
Feels good to be back. And it continues to have one of the greatest TV show theme songs of all time, and that includes both "Alice" and "Good Times".
Also, I was a bit surprised at my family re: their reactions, support, congratulations, "attaboys!", keep it ups, &c., and so forth and things of that nature with regard to my 1 year birthday. It reminded me: I don't drink not for them; I don't drink for me. Because I still haven't heard from any of them. Which is good. Because, frankly, that whole time I was drunk for 10 years I forgot to notice what self-absorbed assholes many of them are.
Which, unless I'm sorely mistaken, gives a whole new meaning to the phrase, "Sour grapes!" No resentment; just disappointment. That has to be okay, but I'm not sure how much longer it's healthy to keep it to myself, yet, at the same, just who "benefits" from me sharing my feelings with them. Best sometimes not to care.
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12 comments:
Attaboy, unbelievably proud of you, keep up the good work, good luck, clap clap clap woohoo, yayayayayayayaya,
There's a solidly represented jerk contingent in every family, indeed, in every person. I've been such a twit to people in my life and I regret it so much. But other times, I enjoyed it.
Still, applause. Genuinely.
Just hard work, rundeep. Just hard work.
If Ian McShane were sitting across the table from me just staring at me and not saying anything, I would just sit there and pee. But did I tell you I minored in Squarehead? Beautiful language.
I'm starting that slow clap that will surely be joined soon with a chorus of hands, near and far, celebrating you! Happy Birthday!
So, bright, I celebrated by torturing myself by watching The Tony Awards on CBS. I kept waiting to see footage by The Musical Theater Reenactment Repertory Theater Players of that Spiderman show, Turn Off The Night, or Turn On The Dark, and, seeing what they were actually reenacting, heard myself say, "TURN DOWN THE GAY!!!" I startled Moonpie, felt bad, thought it was uncalled for me to have said so, considering my fear of gay homosexuals. Then monday night, Dave Letterman opens his monologue by saying, and I'm paraphrasing, "Can anyone else just not get enough of gay newspapermen?"
Vindication!
"If you realized just how little time is spent by other people actually thinking about you, you wouldn't spend any time at all worrying about what they think of you."- some of the best advice my old man ever dealt my way.
Nice job. Attaboy. Well done. Good job. Pat on the back. Now get back to work!
1. Before my mom died, she set aside money for her five kids for them to give to worthy causes every year. This year I wanted to give to WYSO, an NPR affiliate in Yellow Springs, hometown of Dave Chapelle (sp?). My banker brother handles this because he's a banker. So I sent him an email giving my request with all the info he needed to make it happen. So I get a call this morning while I'm tearing off siding and he asks half-jokingly (note: he's incapable of half-joking) if it's one of them liberal left wing media outlets. To which I say that it's my local NPR affiliate that I listen to all day every day, that it is in Yellow Springs which is indeed a hippie haven for irrelevant tree-huggers who never had the courtesy to burn out, but that I've never really considered NPR to be left-wing in the way that Fox Radio seems to be a haven of both right-wing non-thinking and purposeless yelling. He didn't laugh. I didn't laugh.
Did I mention that my mom loved Yellow Springs and that she loved NPR? Did I mention that? Jesus Christ.
2. Yesterday I cut one of the 110 inch beams with my circular down the middle, about 3 inches deep. Then went down the line with a sharpened ax head and small sledge, tried to muster some patience. And 9 short hours later, I had 2 beams for the price of one. Excited doesn't begin to describe my... excitement. Tired does.
3. What an awful thing it must be to begin to loathe the older brothers one once idolized.
4. During the phone call this morning no mention was made of my anniversary.
Sounds to me like your mother was an absolute gem. (who'd be very proud of you)
9 hours well spent. It's the tactile stuff, you know. Your own hands. From now on, every time you look at those 2 beams, it's like Hanks in "Castaway". I have made fire!
Also, sounds to me like your banker brother is something of a,...uh...ya know.....dickwad. No offense to your family. Tell you what my fiend, if I was a banker, I wouldn't have a whole lot to say to anybody these days. I'd be too afraid of assholes (like me) calling out "Hey Dr. TARP, need some more bailout money?" or "Hey Mr. Cause of the Housing Market Collapse, how do you sleep at night?" or similar not-nice things.
Heh heh...fiend should read friend.
Never, ever, gets tired
On my morning coffee break, I see that Jason Beaver is performing live on The Today Show. This can mean only 1 thing and 1 thing only:
1. Time for that septic leech field marathon day project I've been so looking forward to;
2. Never before have I ever wished that my tv set would catch on fire and then explode, until now[!];
3. If Mitt would slow jam the news with Jim, that would finally answer the question as to whether Mitt is an alien space android.
Happy anniversary, m'man. I'll make a point to raise a glass of water to ya.
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