06.24.08

Supernonalcoholic

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 9:42 pm by Gregory

Last night at the Robert Plant / Alison Krauss / T-Bone Burnett show (aka “The Raising Sand Revue”), my friends bought me a beer. It was a large beer. I drinked 3/4 of it.

Predictably, twenty-four hours later, I feel adrift, fatigued, fuzzy.

Thank you, friends, for your kindness and delightful presence (and for a concert which was actually pretty terrific).

And…

Although a little wine is fine, and a sip of Guinness ain’t heinous (bit of a stretch), nevertheless:

I am SO not a drinker!

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Things We Pretend We Didn’t Hear

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 11:42 am by Gregory

I stay up late for various reasons, including:

A. Liking it

B. The air is sweeter

C. 75% less din

D. Some of my friends are night-owls

E. The curfews of youth were utterly sickening

F. It’s a lot easier to do almost anything at night

G. I can

Thus, getting up early certainly isn’t my thing. It’s not impossible, and often I am up with the sun — but I don’t like it and don’t care what anybody thinks or says about it, and it’s entirely irrelevant to anyone but myself anyway. Getting up early is for psychos.

Today, even given the string of late nights, I was up reasonably early, and thus in full command of my senses when the following insanity wafted into my windows:

RETARDED ADULT MALE VOICE: “FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!!!!”

SCREECHY ADULT FEMALE VOICE: “GO TO HELL YOU SON OF A BITCH!!!!”

(That got my attention. Then it continued…)

RAMV: “YOU FUCKING BITCH SHUT UP!!!!”

SAFV: “YOU SHUT UP YOU ASSHOLE!!!!”

(At this point, I dared to look out the window. The bellowing was startlingly LOUD, and getting LOUDER. They were approaching. My neighbors. Lucky me.)

SAFV (stealing the cue): “JUST SHUT UP ASSHOLE!!!! ASSHOLE!!!!”

RAMV: “I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL MYSELF!!!!”

SAFV: “GO AHEAD!!!! KILL YOURSELF!!!! YOU’D BE DOING ME A FAVOR!!!!”

(This was right out in the street, in broad daylight, for the world to see and hear.)

RAMV: “FIRST I’M GONNA KILL MYSELF!!!! AND THEN I’M GONNA KILL YOU!!!!”

(This was a LOT less funny than it reads. But the screechy bitch didn’t even notice the inherent ridiculousness, and countered:)

SAFV: “KILL YOURSELF FIRST!!!! YOU’D BE DOING ME A FAVOR!!!!”

(At this point, I considered calling the police. The police are useless and always do exactly what will make a situation worse — but since this particular situation couldn’t get any worse, I figured that the police would be a nice complement. Then I thought: Nah — I call about the leaf-blower guys every few months, and they interrogate ME over the telephone, and then they never show up or do anything, even though leaf-blowers are against the law. Besides, some other neighbor is likely to call. I’ll just observe.)

The SCREECHING and HOLLERING continued — they were being so LOUD that I thought, for a moment, that perhaps some crazy movie was being lensed nearby or something — except, alas, I recognised the voices. The “female” (marginally) SCREECH was that of the neighbor I years ago dubbed “The Pterodactyl” — on account of her sounding exactly like the stop-motion animated versions of those reptilian creatures from movies and TV. She most certainly cannot fly, and lacks even the elegance of a massive, reptilian predator — but she sure sounds like one. The “male” (I hate to call such a creature a man) HOLLER was her “husband”/life-partner. They are usually outrageously obnoxious — but they have never had an outburst like this before.

“FUCKIN’ ASSHOLE ASSHOLE ASSHOLE!!!!”

“BITCH FUCKIN’ BITCH BITCH!!!!”

Obviously, this does not make for a peaceful or productive morning.

The LOUD fighting continued, but they went into their little hovel (where I dearly wish they’d stay), and the last really impressive part I heard was also the most predictable:

SAFV (LOUDER than ever): “GE-E-E-E-E-E-E-TTTT OU-OU-OU-OU-TTTT!!!!”

RAMV: (TOP retarded volume): “FFF-U-U-U-U-CKCKCK YYYOUUUUUUUUUU!!!!”

And then I gave them a little golf clap, a ‘4′ for originality, and briefly pondered:

Why should I have to hear something like that? Why do I ALWAYS get TOTAL CRAZY-ASS neighbors?*

Now, as a reader (or compulsive consumer of other people’s trash writing), perhaps your thought is: “Well, obviously, the Universe is giving you what you deserve…Karmic cycles…blah-blah-blah.” But this is most certainly not the case. I don’t go around YELLING. I do my very best not to annoy my neighbors. I like communication, i.e.: “Hey, honey — put down the butcher knife, okay? You remember English? It’s that language the Americans ruined. Perhaps we can use a bit of that, and solve this problem in a way that isn’t hideous and horrible for all concerned…”

So why do I get this crazy bullshit wherever I “live”?

Hm.

Well, significantly, there’s this *NOTE: When I lived up in the Pac NW, I had a few neighbors who weren’t bugfuck crazy. I also had co-tenants who were — but that was later. Point being: My record isn’t completely negative.

Which leads me to:

Something — something evil — either attracts insane people to Southern California — or makes people insane once they get here.

My guess is that, at least in part, the lack of moisture in the air drives people crazy. Or at least makes them dry and crinkly — like tinder — and then all it takes is a spark.

Plus there’s the little fact that most people in Southern California moved here because they were either banished from or narrowly escaped other places, where their lives no longer had any meaning.

And now it’s a big, simmering kettle of Crazy — 10,000,000 strong-plus and counting.

Thus, I suppose the neighbor situation is partly ill fortune, but also a simple case of odds.

Since this small and hopelessly limited online journal emerges exclusively from my perspective, it saddens me a bit that much of it has sprung, in recent years, from terrible experiences. Some may suggest that “inspiration comes from turmoil” or “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” or whatever — but I have never agreed with these bogus philosophies, and never will.

Inspiration comes from Happiness and Pleasure and Beauty. And what doesn’t make you stronger only kills you. “No pain, no gain?” Bullshit. Pain is always loss.

Thus, if I may send a message to my immediate environment, it is this: You’re not going to get anything good out of me by being horrible. Shape up, and I’ll be awesome. Be a rotten little turd, and I’ll withdraw. These are reasonable responses.

I can’t wait to withdraw from this insane place.

As for any psychological digging this may inspire (or not), I grew up in a house of constant domestic insanity. To clarify: My “parents” fought frequently and LOUDLY, and thus, as a child, I observed things children should not have to observe. Some marital and domestic strife is normal — but my “parents” deserve some sort of trophy for being cold, mean and outrageously hypocritical (they’ve played at being “together” my whole life — but haven’t shared a room in over three decades — and the coldness — oh, goodness, it’s disturbing).

I don’t mind admitting this, because it’s their problem, and they really should repair it before they die. I know they won’t — because they have the communication skills of dead gnats crushed under large rocks — but they should. It would be the decent thing to do.

Meanwhile, I get to enjoy echoes of those horrid years.

Why are people so motherfucking stupid?

~G

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Hey-Hey, Mama…

Posted in Glögg Is Life. at 1:42 am by Gregory

It’s been all hot and run-around, and although everybody eyeballing these words will interpret them in a different way, basically the Booming and Zooming of it has been dizzying. Not much sleep, either. Neighbors being wicked LOUD. And just too hot to sleep. And waking up terribly anxious about nothing fitting together in any satisfying or sustainable way. Some good things, too, but — hectic. I’d write more and even include some photos — but photos have proven tedious, and people are too visually-oriented for their own good, anyway, and mainly I spent almost the entire Monday without going computery (just five minutes, if that) — and frankly, I liked the absence of computer, a lot.

With none of this in mind, I’m just going to limit myself to thirteen elegant little notions, and go to futon.

1. Today I noticed that I’ve spent at least the last decade thinking it possible that I’d die the next day (or, more accurately, that it would make more sense than living) — and thus decided that I should probably get some shallow appetites so that I can think like most other people.

2. Speaking of death — I don’t know if I’ll have time or energy for a George Carlin tribute — his anger always slightly outweighed his wit — but I did enjoy it when he said, “Too many choices, America — NOT HEALTHY!” — which is very, very, very true (especially when the “choices” are either illusory or flat-out scams).

3. Speaking of not-death, I was sceptical, but joined a couple of lovely friends for the Robert Plant / Alison Krauss / T-Bone Burnett concert at the Greek this evening — and although I despise country music with a fierceness, they consistently rose above that dreck — and even above the semi-cliched O-Brother schtick — and frankly, “Black Dog” sounds awesome intoned sotto voce over a banjo.

4. My living room looks like two bombs hit it.

5. Last week a female human I sorta know did something kinda Virgo-y, so I asked, and she said, “Oh, hell, no! I’m an Aries — so I get to be a total bitch whenever I want!” and that rather took the wind out of my sails (I’d relate it to a male aspiring toward having a semi-tolerable day, and then a female saying, “Hey-y-y-y-y — nice cornflakes! Mind if I take a HUGE DUMP ON THEM!?!?”) — however, today I saw her again, and it was great, really great.

6. Last week, a crude-looking young guy wearing a t-shirt emblazoned with “LESBIAN IN A MAN’S BODY” strode past me along a major thoroughfare and hawked a very loud loogie; somewhere in this lay a Cosmic Truth.

7. David Duchovny likes to sit with his hand over his package.

8. Most of my lightbulbs are burnt out now — but I feel that replacing them would be tantamount to admitting defeat and staying in a place that drives me buckfuck.

9. Speaking of bugfuck, tonight one of the aforementioned friends spoke of this region being home to people who want to make up their own reality and live in it, regardless of whether or not it meshes with the consensus reality — to which I replied that “the ones with money get away with it” — but although I still agree with my friend’s observation, I now withdraw the money comment; there are plenty of people here with no money who completely inhabit their own insane little respective worlds.

10. Speaking of which, I was summoned by the actress again today; I went; it’s much like boogie-boarding around a black hole, but the black hole is nice to me, and I don’t want anything at all from the black hole; and then she put on a movie that literally saved my life last year — and I was filled with affection for its makers, and even enjoyed several wonderful shivers.

11. I’m completely out of money.

12. We’re doing things my way for a while now.

13. Have A Nice Day.

-

14. Bonus Notion for Geeks: Why the HELL would you want the Batman franchise to be “realistic”????????????????????