The place is full of all those people your old lady told you to stay away from when you were a kid. Every type of hoodlum, shyster, pusher, and stalker is trying to work some dirty angle on a girl too drunk or stoned to remember her middle name. There’s nothing more I’d like to do than to ball up my mitts and start taking these cocksuckers out one by one but I can’t. I’m here for a reason and that reason is named Destiny.
I know it’s a goddamn silly name but her parents were junkies. She’s just lucky they didn’t name her Eight Ball or something even worse. The hell that kid went through I can only imagine. Now she’s headed down the same road as her fucking loser parents, the father of which just happens to be my dead brother. I’ll die before I let her turn into them.
“Look out, big man with a short temper coming through.” I have to push and shove and use my gut as a battering ram to knock these punks out of the way. Sure, some of the guys get pissed off but I don’t give a goddamn. What are they going to do? Punch me. I dare them to. Oh, and I don’t shove one lady because I have morals even if they don’t.
This an illegal club, no permits, no liquor license, no paper trail. It’s the basement of someone’s house and next week the party will move to another location that’s how they keep the cops off their trail.
I squeeze between two people at the bar. “Excuse me,” I say but I don’t look at who I just pushed out of the way.
The bar is a fold out table, real classy. The bartender is some one-hundred and thirty pound punk with tattoos all over his arms. He looks me up and down. “What do you want, grandpa?”
“Well, sonny, I might start by smashing the fucking smug grin off your face and then I’ll have bourbon straight up. Or I could just skip the face smashing and take the drink if you apologize.”
“Geez, I’m sorry you don’t need to get all mad about. You have issues.”
“Yeah, yeah I do.”
He grabs a glass with Ronald McDonald on it and pours me a bourbon. He shoves the glass at me. “Five bucks.”
I pull out my wad, peel off a ten spot and hand it to him. “Keep the change.”
The kid nods and I do the same. Money often brings people to an understanding.
I turn from the bar and scan the basement. There’s a magnetic board with plastic letters on it spelling out a drug menu. Now, there’s something you don’t get in a regular bar.
Some skinny toothpick of a guy in a motorcycle jacket comes up next to me. “This place is awesome isn’t it?”
I take a gulp of my bourbon. “Yeah, it’s a real carnival fun house.”
The kid runs his hand through his hair, which covers his eyes. “Right, like a real distorted kind of trip….midgets scare me.”
I set my empty McDonald’s glass on a cigarette burned coffee table. “I think the correct term is little people. And where the fuck did that come from anyway?”
He jumps back and points accusingly at me. “You’re the one that said carnival!”
“But I never said midget.”
“Ha, you just said it. You said midget.”
“I would never say midget because it’s not politically correct. I would say little person. How many drugs have you tried off that list?”
“All of them but not at once and never with a midget.”
“Little person, they liked to be called little people.”
“You’re on their side aren’t you?”
“If there were a side to pick I would definitely be on their side.”
His red-rimmed eyes grew wide. He puts his hands over his ears like he’s afraid his brains are going to run out onto the floor. He turns and bolts, pushing through the crowd.
“Don’t worry about him. His brain is fried.”
“You don’t say.” I turn and there beside me stands five feet and eight inches of my wettest wet dream.
“I do say.” I taker her hand in mine and lean down to kiss it but my hat falls off and hits her in the face. I recover quickly grabbing my hat before it hits the ground but bail on the kiss. .
She bats her long spider leg eyelashes at me. “That’s really quite archaic, kissing a girl’s hand.”
“Yeah, maybe so but when I meet a dame I want to nuzzle up to I don’t wait for the buzzards to close in. You never get to eat that way.”
“Eat?”
“You know what I mean sister. So what’s a class act like you doing hanging out with rabble like this?”
She throws her long blond hair back and lays a gloved hand on my shoulder. “Are you rabble?’
“It depends whether you like rabble or not.”
“”I love rabble.” She licks my cheek and I’m transported to the golden place in my head.
Grab hold of yourself Ludlow. This is no time to think about doing some dame. You have to save Destiny. I grab her by the wrist and pull her away from me.
“So, you know a girl named Destiny? She told me to meet her here.”
She tries to come back at me, get close. “Forget about her. Let’s get some coke.”
“Right, I get it now. You come on to the old guy so he can fill your nose with candy.”
She frowns with those big plush lips. “No, it’s not like that. I think you’re handsome.”
The place is so loud with music and people I have to shout at her. “Don’t lie to me sister. I’m so ugly I tank could roll over my face and no one would know the difference. I’ll buy you your damn drugs. Just tell me where Destiny is.”
She starts to cry and now I feel like a goddamn heel. “She’s in the back. She might be in the sex room.”
“Come again.”
“The sex room. It’s where people have sex...can I have money for coke?”
I reach into the pocket of my trench coat and take out a business card. “You call me in the morning. I’ll get you in a rehab. I have friends.”
She takes the card but doesn’t look at it. I doubt I’ll ever hear from her but if I do I’ll make sure she gets help. “Now where’s this sex room?”
She points down a hallway and before her arm can fall I’m headed back there tossing punks left and right.
“Hey watch it,” someone yells.
I don’t stop. My sweet little niece is in there and I aim to take her with me.
I don’t bother using the doorknob I kick the door down with my size 11. People in all kinds of undress and in various sexual positions are spread out around the room on giant pillows. At the very best it’s unsanitary at the very least disgusting. I flip on the light switch and the things I don’t really want to see are now their in front of me the partial darkness no longer hiding them.
I look around the room. “Destiny?”
From the corner of my eye I see movement. A woman in fishnets and black lingerie is coming at me wielding a giant rubber dildo. She swings and I make damn sure that thing doesn’t touch me and hop out of the way.
“Stop.”
She doesn’t listen and swings the thing again like a Louisville Slugger. I jump aside again and as she passes me I push her to the ground.
“Uncle Burma?”
I turn and there in some sort of leather dress is my niece. Thank god she’s not naked. “Let’s go. I’m getting you out of this place.”
There’s a guy standing next to her; model type, big muscular, perfect face—for now. “Leave Destiny alone pops.”
I turn and make sure the dildo-wielding woman isn’t coming at me. I slide my fists into my brass knuckle. If I have to beat up a bunch of half nude people so be it. “I have no beef with you. Just let me talk to my niece.”
He lunges at me. “Fuck you.”
I aim for that perfect jaw and when he’s two feet from me I connect with a straight overhand. Perfect jaw no more. The other half-nude people are getting hostile.
Destiny runs up to me. “What are you doing?”
BAM! I turn, dizzy, that damn dyke hit me over the head with the giant dildo. I feel like I’m going to pass out…no, no I need to get Destiny out of here. I grab her arm. “I’m getting you out of here.
The woman with the giant dildo charges me again using the dildo like a lance and tries to stab me in the eye. I karate chop the filthy thing and it falls to the ground. I pull Destiny out of the room. In the hallway they’re waiting for me.
I laugh and pull out two pistols and start firing them at the ceiling. The hallway clears and I drag Destiny to my Monte Carlo outside.
We’re driving down Route 81. I look over at her. “You know why I got you out of that place don’t you? I don’t want you turn into your parents.”
She spits in my face. She may hate me now but I have to keep thinking that one day she will thank me. At least that’s something…
Friday, October 30, 2009
Why are you still here? Haven’t you disintegrated into hate yet? No? Maybe deep down in the abyss of your filthy heart lies a modicum of love, a tiny glowing bit amongst all that darkness. Search for it. Find it and don’t let it go. With proper care it will grow and one day you may be whole. It is a long shot considering your current condition but try for the sake of those around you...
My First Memory
My first memory came when I was two years old. I had watched Superman on TV and wanting to emulate him I tied a towel around my neck and ran around the house. When I reached my parents bedroom I would dive onto their bed as if I were flying. I did this over and over again. I guess I got tired because on my final attempt at flying I underestimated the distance to the bed and flew right into the metal railing on the side. My two front teeth got knocked out. I remember seeing them lying bloody on the floor.
For four years I didn't have front teeth which made eating an apple nearly impossible. Oh, and my next memory is of going to the dental surgeon. In fact it had such an impact on me that when I drive down Front Street in Harrisburg I can still pick out the building which housed the dental surgeon's office...
For four years I didn't have front teeth which made eating an apple nearly impossible. Oh, and my next memory is of going to the dental surgeon. In fact it had such an impact on me that when I drive down Front Street in Harrisburg I can still pick out the building which housed the dental surgeon's office...
Thursday, October 29, 2009
It’s not what I want. Well, part of it is and part of it isn’t. Can we separate the two? Can we agree to B without A? Because A isn’t cool with me--A would keep me from being me. You really wouldn’t want that would you? B would alone would allow for my transgressions of which there inevitably be more than a few. So what do you say? A little B goes a long way…
I remember when I was about 11 years old not batting well in a little league game. Afterward my Mom and my two sisters and brother and I went to the practice field. My Dad had a meeting that night so he couldn’t be around. I was lacking confidence at the plate due to a cocksucker coach that constantly put me down. I knew enough then to know he was a loser but being a kid there was nothing I could do. My anxiety grew and my self-confidence was almost non-existent.
So we gathered up ten baseballs or so and my Mom took the pitchers mound. I doubt she had thrown a ball in years—not since she played softball in high school--but she threw many that night. At first I bailed out of the batters box, afraid of the ball but still she threw as hard as she could. “Don’t move away from the ball,” she said. My brother and sisters fetched the balls and with each pitch my confidence began little by little to return. Soon I was hitting the ball out of the park again and still she threw and threw. She threw to me until her arm would barely move and it was so dark she was afraid we’d lose my siblings.
The next day when I went down to breakfast my Mom tried to pick up a frying pan of eggs from the stove but she dropped it. Her arm was too sore to lift it. I realized then that she must have been in pain while throwing to me the night before but she hadn’t said a word. And it was then that I decided that no one else would decide my fate that I wouldn’t quit on myself because she would never quit on me.
In the next game I went 3-4. My only out coming when I hit a ball deep into the woods but the left fielder was playing way back. He blindly stuck his glove in the air and caught the ball. The fans from the other team stood and cheered. I later learned that it was the only ball the kid had ever caught.
So we gathered up ten baseballs or so and my Mom took the pitchers mound. I doubt she had thrown a ball in years—not since she played softball in high school--but she threw many that night. At first I bailed out of the batters box, afraid of the ball but still she threw as hard as she could. “Don’t move away from the ball,” she said. My brother and sisters fetched the balls and with each pitch my confidence began little by little to return. Soon I was hitting the ball out of the park again and still she threw and threw. She threw to me until her arm would barely move and it was so dark she was afraid we’d lose my siblings.
The next day when I went down to breakfast my Mom tried to pick up a frying pan of eggs from the stove but she dropped it. Her arm was too sore to lift it. I realized then that she must have been in pain while throwing to me the night before but she hadn’t said a word. And it was then that I decided that no one else would decide my fate that I wouldn’t quit on myself because she would never quit on me.
In the next game I went 3-4. My only out coming when I hit a ball deep into the woods but the left fielder was playing way back. He blindly stuck his glove in the air and caught the ball. The fans from the other team stood and cheered. I later learned that it was the only ball the kid had ever caught.
The first girl I kissed was in Kindergarten. She came over to my house to play on a day we didn’t have school. We decided to build a house out of pillows next to my bed.
She said, “We’ll play house. You be the dad and I’ll be the mom.
I said, “Okay.”
She leaned towards me. “Moms and dads have to kiss when the dad comes home from work and you just came home from work.”
We both leaned in and kissed each other on the lips and then we did it again. I must have come home fifty times that day and after a while my Mom called for us. Evidently we had been too quiet. I didn’t want to stop kissing her but I heard my Mom’s footsteps and so we had to leave our pillow house.
After that day we sat next to each other all the time in class and I went to her house a few times. She told me we were going to get married some day and I believed her until I noticed another girl noticing me one day. Her name was Paula and after school one day she came up to me and said, “I really like your hair it looks like the Beatles.” Karen and I didn’t last the rest of the year.
She said, “We’ll play house. You be the dad and I’ll be the mom.
I said, “Okay.”
She leaned towards me. “Moms and dads have to kiss when the dad comes home from work and you just came home from work.”
We both leaned in and kissed each other on the lips and then we did it again. I must have come home fifty times that day and after a while my Mom called for us. Evidently we had been too quiet. I didn’t want to stop kissing her but I heard my Mom’s footsteps and so we had to leave our pillow house.
After that day we sat next to each other all the time in class and I went to her house a few times. She told me we were going to get married some day and I believed her until I noticed another girl noticing me one day. Her name was Paula and after school one day she came up to me and said, “I really like your hair it looks like the Beatles.” Karen and I didn’t last the rest of the year.
I want to come to grips with your hips, pull you close and go down...Where? I think you know. To that place, the space between your….maybe I should rephrase that and try it from another angle. Maybe I would start low and come up or approach you from the side? If that doesn’t work I could bring you flowers and a bottle of apple brandy. We could drink that up and just see what happens. ?
The Clothesline
When I was six years old my family lived in an old stone house in Union Depost, Pennsylvania. Behind the house ran a stream, woods, and then a big open field. Of course on a daily basis I managed to come in covered in mud or dirt or whatever else might be around. I did this on my own but sometimes I had help.
My uncle Joey was only 7 years older than me and lived less than ten miles away. Often he would come over to visit and we would end up outside. I ended up doing his bidding a lot like picking corn from the farmer's field so he could throw it at Halloween. When we divided the corn up I got a tiny little pot full and he had several giant bags of it. I was upset because I thought I could eat the corn.
I was cautious of what Joey might ask me to do but I was young and gullible too. In the back yard we had a clothesline that was attached to pulleys. The clothesline started about five feet off the ground and rose to about twenty feet at the other end. Both pulleys were screwed into trees.
Joey and I were playing with the clothes line and he said, “Hold onto the clothes line. I reel you out and then bring you back in.”
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure he would reel me back in. He sensed this and said, “Come on don’t be a baby.”
Well, I didn’t want to be considered a baby so I grabbed onto the clothes line and Joey began to reel me out. I rose up over our garden higher and higher. I was scared but there was no way I was going to be a baby.
“Okay, you can bring me back now,” I called.
Joey just laughed and kept reeling me higher and further out. It seemed like I was up there for hours until finally I reached the other end.
“Okay, bring me back,” I cried.
I looked back and Joey was gone. I tried not to panic but it was a long way down and I felt my grip slipping. I tried to turn around and go back but I wasn’t strong enough and I fell. As I plummeted towards the ground I thought I was going to die and how mad my Mom would be at Joey.
When I hit it wasn’t hard like I expected but wet and muddy. I had landed in a huge mud puddle that was two feet deep. As I climbed out of the mud puddle I looked up at the house and I could see Joey laughing hysterically. I started to laugh too and slipped and fell back in the puddle.
I knew Mom wouldn’t care because I came in muddy every day and it was no use telling on Joey he would just make up an excuse. So I stuck a big glob of mud in my pocket and walked up to the yard. Joey was on the ground rolling around laughing. I took the mud out of my pocket and threw it onto his red and white striped shirt. I was learning what it was like to have a big brother…
My uncle Joey was only 7 years older than me and lived less than ten miles away. Often he would come over to visit and we would end up outside. I ended up doing his bidding a lot like picking corn from the farmer's field so he could throw it at Halloween. When we divided the corn up I got a tiny little pot full and he had several giant bags of it. I was upset because I thought I could eat the corn.
I was cautious of what Joey might ask me to do but I was young and gullible too. In the back yard we had a clothesline that was attached to pulleys. The clothesline started about five feet off the ground and rose to about twenty feet at the other end. Both pulleys were screwed into trees.
Joey and I were playing with the clothes line and he said, “Hold onto the clothes line. I reel you out and then bring you back in.”
I hesitated. I wasn’t sure he would reel me back in. He sensed this and said, “Come on don’t be a baby.”
Well, I didn’t want to be considered a baby so I grabbed onto the clothes line and Joey began to reel me out. I rose up over our garden higher and higher. I was scared but there was no way I was going to be a baby.
“Okay, you can bring me back now,” I called.
Joey just laughed and kept reeling me higher and further out. It seemed like I was up there for hours until finally I reached the other end.
“Okay, bring me back,” I cried.
I looked back and Joey was gone. I tried not to panic but it was a long way down and I felt my grip slipping. I tried to turn around and go back but I wasn’t strong enough and I fell. As I plummeted towards the ground I thought I was going to die and how mad my Mom would be at Joey.
When I hit it wasn’t hard like I expected but wet and muddy. I had landed in a huge mud puddle that was two feet deep. As I climbed out of the mud puddle I looked up at the house and I could see Joey laughing hysterically. I started to laugh too and slipped and fell back in the puddle.
I knew Mom wouldn’t care because I came in muddy every day and it was no use telling on Joey he would just make up an excuse. So I stuck a big glob of mud in my pocket and walked up to the yard. Joey was on the ground rolling around laughing. I took the mud out of my pocket and threw it onto his red and white striped shirt. I was learning what it was like to have a big brother…
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
“Don’t fall in love me,” Angela warned.
“I couldn’t if I wanted to. I’m too busy courting the world.”
“I know,” she said, grabbing me by the collar. “Look at all you have. You can make people laugh.”
“Sure, I can make people laugh but with that gift comes a great debt. I pay for every joke I crack, every law I break, every moral I transcend. This life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Or I won’t be but in the end none of this will matter anyway.”
“Yes, it will.”
“No, I believe we’re all here for a purpose and that purpose is to show that there is no purpose, no rhyme or reason to anything. In the end it all breaks down into chaos.”
"I want chaos."
"You've found the right guy."
“I couldn’t if I wanted to. I’m too busy courting the world.”
“I know,” she said, grabbing me by the collar. “Look at all you have. You can make people laugh.”
“Sure, I can make people laugh but with that gift comes a great debt. I pay for every joke I crack, every law I break, every moral I transcend. This life isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“You’ll be fine.”
“Or I won’t be but in the end none of this will matter anyway.”
“Yes, it will.”
“No, I believe we’re all here for a purpose and that purpose is to show that there is no purpose, no rhyme or reason to anything. In the end it all breaks down into chaos.”
"I want chaos."
"You've found the right guy."
You don’t get the big picture, the big fun, the big laugh and that’s a damn shame. Even sadness has its humorous side if you drink enough. For god’s sake man pull yourself up out of the muck and embrace life or at least grab its tits. There’s no reason to trudge through the days like you’re carrying a Buick Regal on your back. I see too many sad son-of-a-bitches hating every inch of life. Sure, we all have our blue times and our out of sort days but there is too much fruit on the trees not to pick it and eat it and be full. So fucking eat like the Romans and puke it up afterwards if you must but enjoy the journey. Don’t squander it. I’ll be watching…
Little One
Little one its time you listened to what reality is. It is not what you have been told; I paved the path for you, took those punches for you, left blood on the stoop for you. Took the worst of it so you could have the best of it and you don’t even know. Don’t know the beauty of your luck or how it made my life so hard. I hope the princess finds her pea and her dyke dreams come true--long hair hanging out the tower window and she drives up on a Harley and yanks you down. You’d like that wouldn’t you? I hope it all works out. Really, I don’t mind getting fucked over again but remember when you need me most I’ll be on the West Coast too far away to hear your cries.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
I awoke to the hideous squeal of some moron pulling into a parking spot out front of my brother’s row house in Georgetown. I pulled back the blinds and saw him trying to maneuver a new Porsche into a spot that a tricycle couldn’t have fit in. Evidently this little zit faced bastards had just gotten his hands on his trust fund and gone out and bought the first really stupid item he could find and decided to ruin my sleep. He would pay.
Dressed only in my bikini briefs and Burmese jungle boots I flew out the front door with my brother’s two French bulldogs following me. “You fucking little bastard. Have you no decency? Hard drinking people are trying to sleep around here.”
He looked scared and well he should have. “It’s one-thirty in the afternoon. I hit my brakes because I didn’t want to hit a squirrel. That’s what made my tires squeal.”
I looked up at the sun and it did seem rather high in the sky to still be morning but then stranger things had happened. “Squirrels are not native to this area. You may have seen a giant sewer rat or some form of weasel but no decent squirrel would run out in front of a gaudy car like that.”
The kid was shaking now and I was sure he’d learned some sort of lesson, though I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was. “Go about your business just keep that loud car off this street.”
He quickly gave me the finger and peeled out. Luckily I was quick enough to kick his rear driver’s side quarter panel with my Burmese jungle boots and left a nice dent in it.
I gathered up the dogs and went back inside. The clock on the wall read 1:15. By god that little bastard had been right. I had slept the better part of a day away. On the coffee table in front of the couch I had slept on were the contents of my pockets from the night before. And then it all started to come back to me…well, some of it. I remembered the redheaded bartender with the big breasts and the star tattoo on her neck but other than that it was very fuzzy.
I filtered through the things from my pockets on the coffee table: cash, matches, condoms, chewing gum, license, credit card…I was missing my ATM card and I had just deposited a significant amount of cashed I received from a piece I had written for a porn magazine. I had to find that card before some degenerate paint sniffer found it and bought up the tri-state are supply of gold spray paint.
I yelled for my brother. “Get down here we have an emergency!”
My brother came running down the stairs. “What is it?”
I tried to pull on my jeans and nearly fell over the coffee table. “My debit card is gone. I fear someone stole it.”
My brother was used to my outbursts. “You probably just left it at the bar last night.”
I buckled my pants and put my boots back on. “Come on we don’t have any time to waste. I fear the worst.”
“Why what happened after I left last night?”
“I have no idea.”
* * *
Terrible scenarios raced through my head as we walked to the bar we had been at the previous night. What had I done in the two hours after my brother had left to go home? I’d been known to make a huge ass out of myself and had been banned from some of the best establishments in the United States.
The redheaded bartender that had been there the night before was working again. When she saw me her face lit up. So far so good. I leaned over the bar. She kissed me on the cheek. “What’s up?”
She greeted me as if I were a long lost friend. Had she dropped a mickey in my drink and taken advantage of me? I hoped so.
“Oh my god I have never seen anyone drink that much before. You had 21 beers on your tab when you closed it out. Then you had about 3 or 4 more. I also comped you about four beers and you had one downstairs. You drank 30 beers. That is so cool.”
Most women would be repulsed by such a spectacle but this girl was special. “It’s nothing to be proud of.”
My brother pulled up to the bar. “He only drinks every six months or so. In fact he didn’t drink for over a year until recently.”
She leaned over and her abundant cleavage toppled onto the bar and rested there like two bean bag chairs. “I know he told me last night.” She winked at me.
It was then that I had a flashback of sitting with her on the kitchen steps out back. I vaguely remembered her large breasts being exposed. Had she told me she had done some video taping of us? That seemed familiar. Dear god what I had I gotten myself into?
She leaned closer and handed me my credit card. I saw the star tattoo on her neck and remembered kissing it. “You left this last night.” She handed me my credit card. “So, are we still on for tonight?”
“Tonight? Oh, yeah, uh, what did we decide on? Nothing involving cameras I hope.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just camera shy.”
She smiled and I remembered that mouth and…
Dressed only in my bikini briefs and Burmese jungle boots I flew out the front door with my brother’s two French bulldogs following me. “You fucking little bastard. Have you no decency? Hard drinking people are trying to sleep around here.”
He looked scared and well he should have. “It’s one-thirty in the afternoon. I hit my brakes because I didn’t want to hit a squirrel. That’s what made my tires squeal.”
I looked up at the sun and it did seem rather high in the sky to still be morning but then stranger things had happened. “Squirrels are not native to this area. You may have seen a giant sewer rat or some form of weasel but no decent squirrel would run out in front of a gaudy car like that.”
The kid was shaking now and I was sure he’d learned some sort of lesson, though I couldn’t tell you exactly what it was. “Go about your business just keep that loud car off this street.”
He quickly gave me the finger and peeled out. Luckily I was quick enough to kick his rear driver’s side quarter panel with my Burmese jungle boots and left a nice dent in it.
I gathered up the dogs and went back inside. The clock on the wall read 1:15. By god that little bastard had been right. I had slept the better part of a day away. On the coffee table in front of the couch I had slept on were the contents of my pockets from the night before. And then it all started to come back to me…well, some of it. I remembered the redheaded bartender with the big breasts and the star tattoo on her neck but other than that it was very fuzzy.
I filtered through the things from my pockets on the coffee table: cash, matches, condoms, chewing gum, license, credit card…I was missing my ATM card and I had just deposited a significant amount of cashed I received from a piece I had written for a porn magazine. I had to find that card before some degenerate paint sniffer found it and bought up the tri-state are supply of gold spray paint.
I yelled for my brother. “Get down here we have an emergency!”
My brother came running down the stairs. “What is it?”
I tried to pull on my jeans and nearly fell over the coffee table. “My debit card is gone. I fear someone stole it.”
My brother was used to my outbursts. “You probably just left it at the bar last night.”
I buckled my pants and put my boots back on. “Come on we don’t have any time to waste. I fear the worst.”
“Why what happened after I left last night?”
“I have no idea.”
* * *
Terrible scenarios raced through my head as we walked to the bar we had been at the previous night. What had I done in the two hours after my brother had left to go home? I’d been known to make a huge ass out of myself and had been banned from some of the best establishments in the United States.
The redheaded bartender that had been there the night before was working again. When she saw me her face lit up. So far so good. I leaned over the bar. She kissed me on the cheek. “What’s up?”
She greeted me as if I were a long lost friend. Had she dropped a mickey in my drink and taken advantage of me? I hoped so.
“Oh my god I have never seen anyone drink that much before. You had 21 beers on your tab when you closed it out. Then you had about 3 or 4 more. I also comped you about four beers and you had one downstairs. You drank 30 beers. That is so cool.”
Most women would be repulsed by such a spectacle but this girl was special. “It’s nothing to be proud of.”
My brother pulled up to the bar. “He only drinks every six months or so. In fact he didn’t drink for over a year until recently.”
She leaned over and her abundant cleavage toppled onto the bar and rested there like two bean bag chairs. “I know he told me last night.” She winked at me.
It was then that I had a flashback of sitting with her on the kitchen steps out back. I vaguely remembered her large breasts being exposed. Had she told me she had done some video taping of us? That seemed familiar. Dear god what I had I gotten myself into?
She leaned closer and handed me my credit card. I saw the star tattoo on her neck and remembered kissing it. “You left this last night.” She handed me my credit card. “So, are we still on for tonight?”
“Tonight? Oh, yeah, uh, what did we decide on? Nothing involving cameras I hope.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I’m just camera shy.”
She smiled and I remembered that mouth and…
I put on some wrap around shades and a pair of fire mitts and reached up and took down the brightest star I could find. I then lined a gift box with asbestos and placed the star inside. That night as we sat in my car making out I took the box out from under my seat and handed it to you. You looked confused and asked what you had done to deserve a gift. I said just being you was enough. You opened the box and your eyes lit up. You knew then I would do anything for you. We then had sex by the light of the star. The next day I woke up and you had a beautiful tan with no lines…
Monday, October 26, 2009
Oh, I how I loathe thee--thee of course being me. Yes, I am self-loathing and in fact quite creepy. At times when you snap my picture in the wrong light I resemble Uncle Fester. I have no friends except for my Mom--we go to bingo every Friday night. I also never cut my toenails and shower only weekly, if that much. I drink milk from the bottle so that half of what sits in the refrigerator is backwash and I serve it to guests. I envy people with more hair than me--no really, I have a photo of Tiny Tim on my mantle. I also worship money because it buys happiness…okay, perhaps I should stop because there are so many things I loathe about myself that it would take an entire day to write them down and I would just be creating something else that I loathe about myself which is making other people loathe me…
Porn Stars
Hoof and I had one goal that evening and it was to drink until reality blurred and the devilish vision of what we considered the perfect reality was ours. These nights are not for the faint of heart nor anyone concerned with appearance. They are nights in which there are large gaps in the memory and one must trust that the vision will carry them through and out to the other side.
We found ourselves in the 501 club hunkered over the bar chasing shots with beers. We were well into the night and feeling the effects of 15 or so drinks when we were momentarily halted in our quest for inebriation by two curvaceous blonds. Hoof kicked me in the shin but I needed no such prompting. I was about to stand when we noticed a little weasely guy following them. He was probably 60 years old with horned rimmed glasses and only weighed as much as box of crackers.
Hoof set his beer down. “Tell me that little creep isn’t with them.”
I sat down. “I don’t lie to friends.”
The little weasely guy noticed we were looking their way and came over to us. “Hey how are you guys doing?”
Hoof and I both nodded. I normally hate mundane chit-chat but on this night I would make an exception since I wanted to meet the two blonds.
The guy ordered three drinks. “You guys think the girls I’m with are hot?”
This was getting weird. I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. Hoof and I both nodded again.
The guy picked up one of his beers and took a sip. “Well, what would you say if I told you that you can both sleep with them?”
I spit up a little beer. “I would have to go first. It’s a religious conviction of mine.”
Hoof set his beer on the bar. “You’re not religious.”
The weasely guy stuck a straw in his beer and sipped. “Well here’s the deal. I’m making a porno movie on close circuit TV tonight and I need some guys to be in it.”
The girls looked over at and made eyes at us and then they started making out.
The little weasely guy sipped more beer from his straw. “So what do you say?”
At first I panicked. “Sorry this is my offseason. I’m not in porno shape right now. Catch me in about 6 months and I’ll be tan and ripped.”
The weasely guy leaned in close. “You can wear a mask if you want.”
Hoof set his beer down and rubbed his bearded chin. “What kind of mask?”
“I have a Bill Clinton mask and a Richard Nixon mask.”
I took a sip of my beer. “If we would consider this I would have to be Bill Clinton.”
Hoof stood. “There is no way I’m going to be Richard Nixon. That’s just creepy.”
The girls didn’t even look up. They were too busy fondling each other. It was clear the Hoof and I had reached an impasse on the mask matter. If we were going to be porn stars, even for one night, we would need to cross this hurdle. I suggested we flip a coin but Hoof was having none of this. He claimed he couldn’t get an erection if he was Richard Nixon.
I slammed my fist on the bar. “For moral and political reasons I cannot be Richard Nixon.”
Suddenly a sobering look came over Hoof’s face. “What the fuck are we talking about? We’re not going to be in a porn movie no matter what mask we’re wearing.”
He had a point. We had been so caught up in the matter of the masks the we forgot we would never be in a porn movie anyway. It was time to get the fuck out there.
When the weasely guy walked over to the blonds we paid our tab and then bolted for the door. It was a narrow escape but we made it. We ran into the weasely guy and the two porn star blonds at different bars that night as they tried to recruit guys and each time he would approach us and we would make for the exit.
We found ourselves in the 501 club hunkered over the bar chasing shots with beers. We were well into the night and feeling the effects of 15 or so drinks when we were momentarily halted in our quest for inebriation by two curvaceous blonds. Hoof kicked me in the shin but I needed no such prompting. I was about to stand when we noticed a little weasely guy following them. He was probably 60 years old with horned rimmed glasses and only weighed as much as box of crackers.
Hoof set his beer down. “Tell me that little creep isn’t with them.”
I sat down. “I don’t lie to friends.”
The little weasely guy noticed we were looking their way and came over to us. “Hey how are you guys doing?”
Hoof and I both nodded. I normally hate mundane chit-chat but on this night I would make an exception since I wanted to meet the two blonds.
The guy ordered three drinks. “You guys think the girls I’m with are hot?”
This was getting weird. I was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. Hoof and I both nodded again.
The guy picked up one of his beers and took a sip. “Well, what would you say if I told you that you can both sleep with them?”
I spit up a little beer. “I would have to go first. It’s a religious conviction of mine.”
Hoof set his beer on the bar. “You’re not religious.”
The weasely guy stuck a straw in his beer and sipped. “Well here’s the deal. I’m making a porno movie on close circuit TV tonight and I need some guys to be in it.”
The girls looked over at and made eyes at us and then they started making out.
The little weasely guy sipped more beer from his straw. “So what do you say?”
At first I panicked. “Sorry this is my offseason. I’m not in porno shape right now. Catch me in about 6 months and I’ll be tan and ripped.”
The weasely guy leaned in close. “You can wear a mask if you want.”
Hoof set his beer down and rubbed his bearded chin. “What kind of mask?”
“I have a Bill Clinton mask and a Richard Nixon mask.”
I took a sip of my beer. “If we would consider this I would have to be Bill Clinton.”
Hoof stood. “There is no way I’m going to be Richard Nixon. That’s just creepy.”
The girls didn’t even look up. They were too busy fondling each other. It was clear the Hoof and I had reached an impasse on the mask matter. If we were going to be porn stars, even for one night, we would need to cross this hurdle. I suggested we flip a coin but Hoof was having none of this. He claimed he couldn’t get an erection if he was Richard Nixon.
I slammed my fist on the bar. “For moral and political reasons I cannot be Richard Nixon.”
Suddenly a sobering look came over Hoof’s face. “What the fuck are we talking about? We’re not going to be in a porn movie no matter what mask we’re wearing.”
He had a point. We had been so caught up in the matter of the masks the we forgot we would never be in a porn movie anyway. It was time to get the fuck out there.
When the weasely guy walked over to the blonds we paid our tab and then bolted for the door. It was a narrow escape but we made it. We ran into the weasely guy and the two porn star blonds at different bars that night as they tried to recruit guys and each time he would approach us and we would make for the exit.
Friday, October 23, 2009
That some of you will never get this mind has to be okay. There are of versions of me yet to be unveiled and in due time you will see. I never want my mind to stop expanding, to lay stagnant like death. This necessitates movement of the body to places only thoughts should go. You can spend your life wishing or you can spend your life searching. I chose the latter though it takes me further away from you.
You were a great actor and all my heart was your stage. You played your part well until your lines were forgotten. And then show abruptly stopped and the curtains fell hard. The lights went out around me and I was left standing alone in the dark wondering if the show would start again. Now as I collect my thoughts to leave I can see what might have been if only you weren’t such a great actor but rather just my friend.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
I was at the gym last night talking to Big Todd and I was talking about the rap album we are collaborating on. Sincerely, I asked him “what is some good gangster rap” because I like to listen to it sometimes when I lift. Todd looked at me with great seriousness and said, “I don’t know I have some from two years ago or so on my MP3 player.” And then I remembered…Todd listens to Dave Matthews. Can you see this huge guy jamming to Dave Mathews while he’s squatting 900 pounds? Me either. Or maybe that was his wife that likes Dave Matthews? Hmm, what is he listening to on the MP3 player? ABBA? Barney? Maybe I should just ask him…
And another thing. I’ve never seen Todd get mad. He might get slightly irritated but then he always seems to laugh about whatever it was that annoyed him. Damn it he never lets me be angry. He always has to laugh and then I’m stuck laughing too. Now Billie on the other hand has gone off on me a few times. What can you expect? She is a redhead…I think. We love to discuss politics…
And another thing. I’ve never seen Todd get mad. He might get slightly irritated but then he always seems to laugh about whatever it was that annoyed him. Damn it he never lets me be angry. He always has to laugh and then I’m stuck laughing too. Now Billie on the other hand has gone off on me a few times. What can you expect? She is a redhead…I think. We love to discuss politics…
It is true. There are some things you can never take back. Like underwear you wore for two weeks to the department store in which you purchased them. You can’t take back a half-eaten sandwich or half-used tube of toothpaste. And of course there are words. Some people seem to forget about this. I am intimate with words and know what they can do. Some people treat them casually and don’t understand what they’ve unleashed until its forever too late. I treat them like a loaded gun and when I’m not writing the safety is always on…
PI Burma Ludlow in Damn Hard
It’s December and the temperature has dropped so far down the thermometer that it isn’t worth pin pointing to a specific number. After a certain point these numbers lose their meaning and one only needs to know that if they lick a metal light post their tongue isn’t coming free without loosing a layer of skin. I don’t lick metal light posts.
I step out of the Monte Carlo and slam the door shut. As I look up at the snow coming down I see the pink neon sign of the Exotic Spice Lounge. It hums like a swarm of mosquitoes and is covered with a thick layer of black grime that looks like chewing tobacco spit.
I take one last puff on my cigarillo and drop it in the snow at the door. The bouncer gives me the once over. He’s built like a trash bag filled with mashed potatoes. “I.D?”
I tilt the brim of my black Fedora up so he can see my cold hard eyes. “You don’t think I look like I’m old enough to come into this joint?”
He steps in my face. I hate when people step in my face. “No I.D. no tits and ass.”
“Is tits and ass a new salad dressing? I’m not sure I’ve tried that one before. Does Paul Newman put that out?”
“Huh?”
“Right, you probably don’t eat salads. You’re probably a tube steak eater.”
“What?”
“That’s what I thought.”
I flip open my wallet and am careful not to let this sap see my PI license. I hand him my driver’s license. He points what seems like a 40,000 watt flashlight at it. He keeps staring at it until I start to get agitated.
“You having trouble reading? I can translate.”
He takes a step closer, his mashed potato stomach pressing up against me. I slip my fists into my pockets and into my Mom’s brass knuckles, ready to take this cocksucker out. He pushes my I.D. in my face. “Have a good night.”
Calm down Ludlow. This isn’t worth it. Remember the big picture. Think of slow rolling ocean waves like the doc told you. That’s it.
I open the door and step inside. My ears are instantly assaulted by the stereo system blaring that crappy techno music. Its damn dark in here it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the nudity and when they do I make a b-line for the stage. Every shape and type of woman is on that stage jiggling things I didn’t even know were supposed to jiggle. I sit and pull out my wad of cash making sure everyone in the place sees it.
A brunette with pendulous breasts leans down in front of me and start swinging them. I am hypnotized. I start tossing one dollar bills at her like an old lady throwing bread to the pigeons in a park. I lean in and one of her breasts hits me in the eye. Her nipples are as big as acorns and I think that’s’ what pokes me in the cornea. I grab my eye in pain and fall back in my chair.
I peer around the stage with my one good eye. What I see is disgusting. Every type of three time loser is spending his paycheck on a certain girl he is sure will go home with him if he just throws her enough cash. I call it the big lie and these dames know how to sell it.
A curvy blond, wearing nothing but a note pad in her left hand, comes up to me. “Drink?”
I stare at her breasts. “Yes, I do.”
She cracks her gum. “Yes, I do what.”
“Drink.”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Do you want a drink?”
Goddamn it Ludlow snap out of it. You’re acting like a diabetic in a candy bar factory. Focus on the task at hand. “Sure, how about a Heineken?”
“One Heiney coming up.”
I stared at her hiney as she walks from my table. And then I see her; much more beautiful than her father described. She looks like she should be airbrushed on the side of one of those fancy conversion vans. She is staring at me with a look of raw lust. Yes, even in the dark club I can see it. She wants me. I never been more sure of anything in my life.
She’s dressed in a sheer robe and keeps walking my way. In an instant I’m testing the tensile strength of my boxer shorts.
She is right in front of me now. I’m about to say hello and ask her if she will you run away to Mexico with me. She steps around me. Okay, maybe I was wrong about her wanting me but I’m not wrong about is that she’s hugging some low life and she’s not smiling. She looks scared and now I don’t even notice she is naked. I focus on that bottom feeder. It’s got to be Ginger Speedly, the pimping piece of shit that has sweet Annie hooked on the horse. What kind of man calls himself Ginger?
“What did you say?”
Oh, shit I must have said that out loud. “Uh, are you the guy they call Ginger?”
He steps up to my face so his crotch is about 6 inches away. I could punch him in the balls so he’d be singing like Minnie Mouse for the rest of his life but I don’t operate like that. I need proof. Sure, I’d bust him in the balls if I found he was the low life I thought he was but now I have to remain calm.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Oh, no reason. I heard someone say you were the man.”
He seemed to like that. He smiled with gold teeth. “That’s right. I am the man.”
Sweet Annie Shore hugs the rhinestone encrusted sleeve of his pimp blazer. I want instantly and permanently to get rid of those shiny gold teeth.
The waitress sets my Heineken on my table. I stick ten bucks between her breasts and she flips her head back and catches the bill in her teeth. Someone somewhere would be proud to know there daughter just isn’t some lowly stripper but has real talents. “Well, I was told you’re the man that can get things.”
Ginger’s eyes narrow. “You a cop?”
“No, hell I don’t even like to wear blue it makes me look fat.”
“But you are fat.”
“To the naked eye I may look fat but if I’m standing real far away I just look small.”
“What?”
He stands and runs his fingers around the felt of his white derby unsure what to do. Then he smiles with those goddamn gold teeth. “You’re pretty damn funny.”
I try to smile back but I don’t think it comes out quite right. More like a half snarl. He doesn’t seem to notice.
Time to get this show on the road. I reach in the pocket of my trench coat and pull out my wad of cash. I purposely drop my money clip on the ground. “Ooops, sorry.” I light my Zippo and go down towards sweet Annie’s feet. I can see between her toes that she’s been shooting the needle there. “Oh there it is.” I picked up my money clip and jam it in my pocket with the cash.
Ginger looks at my wad like a chicken hawk watches a defenseless kitten rolling in a sand box of Shake-n-Bake. Now he knows I’m a player and he won’t leave me alone until one way or another all my money was in his pocket.
He licks his lips and they glisten like he’s wearing too much Chapstick. “You like the ladies?”
I take a sip of my beer. “I don’t like the ladies. I love the ladies.”
“Well, I just might be able to help you out.”
“Maybe but I don’t go for any of that funny stuff. I don’t want anyone pissing on my forehead or putting electrodes on my nipples?”
“What?”
“I like my women like I like my liquor, straight up.”
“You fucked up, man.”
“Maybe so but I know what I like. I look up at Annie. “How much for her?”
Anne looks like she might cry. I don’t blame her. My face looks like a baked potato someone threw against a brick wall.
Ginger rubs his stringy little goatee and I swear I see beads of grease drip to the floor. “Her now she’s special. I trained her myself. One night, fifteen-hundred dollars.”
I light a cigarillo and blow it in Ginger’s face. “She any good?”
“I just said I trained her myself mother fucker.”
These types don’t respect you if you don’t stand up to them. You can’t push too far but just enough to show you’re not a chump.
“And how do I know you’re a good trainer? You may be a premature ejaculator and have a 2 inch penis.”
“You’re really pushing it man.”
“Pushing is what I do best, well pushing and shoving.” I tuck my erection under my belt and stand. “I’ll take her. You got a room around here?”
Now Annie is really crying. I didn’t think I’m that bad. Ah, who am I fooling, yeah I am that bad. I’ve had many women before but come to think of it most of them had been extremely drunk.
Ginger stands. “Upstairs. And no funny stuff. I will be here all night and will be checking on you. Now give me my money.”
I reach in my pocket and peel fifteen one hundred dollar bills off my wad and handed them to the dirty little fuck bucket. “There you go.”
He pushes Annie towards me. I take her trembling hand with my big mitt and she leads me towards the back towards a staircase. I follow her up but I can’t even look at her. I feel too damn bad for the kid.
As Annie opens the door at the top of the stairs I look down. Ginger is sitting at a table at the bottom and waves at me. I nod.
She opens the door and pulls me inside shutting the door behind us. She keeps the lights off. I don’t blame her for that.
She grabs my shirt with both hands, ripping a good patch of chest hair out in the process. “You want me to suck your cock?”
“Yes, yes I do…I mean no. Let’s have a drink.”
She goes to the refrigerator and grabs two Budweisers and hands me one. Her beer is half empty by the time I get the cap off of mine. “You don’t like doing this do you?”
She stops drinking. “I love it baby. Especially with a handsome man like you.”
“Don’t give me that handsome man stuff, sister. I’m so ugly I can peel the paint off a wall if I stare at it long enough.”
She starts to cry. I catch a tear running down her cheek with my index finger and flick it on the ground. “I’m not here to sleep with you. I’m a PI hired by your father to get you out of this place.”
She puts her beer down and starts backing up. “You don’t know what he’ll do to me if he finds out.”
I set my beer down and ball up my mitts like two mallet heads. “He doesn’t know what I’ll do to him if he lays one hand on your head.”
The faucets are running full force now and her eye makeup looks like some sort of bad modern art. “Is my Dad okay?”
“His heart is broken but other than that he’s fine. He just wants his baby girl back and she’s coming with me if I have to fight every goddamn cocksucker in this joint.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“I’d do that because I was paid to do it and because it’s the right thing to do. And yeah I’d d it for you. You seem like an okay kid. Don’t be scared of me I may not be handsome or have fancy clothes but I can crack heads and count bodies.”
“Can I put some clothes on?”
“Yeah, get dressed and pack a bag. Only take what you really need. I’m going to get some money from your boyfriend so you can start over and we’ll get you to a rehab far away from here so that pig can’t find you.”
She frowns. “He carries a gun.”
I open up my trench coat exposing my six pistols, ammo, grenades, knife and machine gun. “I have more guns and I have these.” I pull my big mitts out and clench them tight.
She smiles and it make my heart feel like it is filled with helium. If I weren’t so goddamn heavy I’d probably float right now.
She hurries to the closet, pulls out a bag and starts to fill it.
I take out a cigarillo. “Mind if I smoke?”
“No go ahead.”
I light my cigarillo and inhale. You never know when your last smoke will come and so I take advantage of the moment. She pulls on some jeans, a sweatshirt and shoes.
“I’m ready.”
I drop my cigarillo on the ground and rub it out with my boot. “Stay behind me no matter what.”
I rear back with my size twelve and kick the door in half. Pieces of the door slide down the stairs. I hear Ginger yell, “What the fuck?”
In an instant I hear him running up the stairs. We step to the side and he comes barreling through the door. I meet his jaw with my fist and his head snaps backwards. “Didn’t think I could hit that hard did you?”
He falls over a coffee table and his gun goes off. I jump on top of him and start pounding my fists into his face, grinding it down to the bone.
Full needles fall out of his pockets. I pick one up and jab it in his arm. He’s gone. Way out in la la land and he won’t be coming back any time soon. I reach in his nasty rhinestone pimp jacket and pull out close to fifteen grand in one-hundred dollar bills. I also take four grand out of my own pocket put it on the stack and turn around.
I extend my hand. “Here this is yours.”
Annie takes the money and stuffs it in her bag. She leans over and kisses me on the forehead. “Thank-you. I don’t even know your name but you’re my knight in shining armor.”
“If I had armor it would probably be dented and have ketchup stains on it. Now, let’s get out of here.”
We turn towards the door to leave and standing there are four bouncers and the manager who is carrying a gun. The manager steps forward. “Don’t you fucking move.”
“Fucking move? Is that some sort of sexual position?”
The manager smiles and his fat cheeks nearly cover his eyes. “I’ll shoot you.”
I take a cigarillo out and light it. “You’re going to have to do better than that fuck nut.”
He pulls the trigger and I take one in the gut and fall to the ground. I lay as still as a possum.
The manager kicks me in the side. I still don’t move. “What the fuck is going on here, Annie?”
“I don’t know. He went crazy. He was smoking crack.”
“Boys take him down the back staircase we’ll have to dump him out in the quarry.”
Inside I’m laughing like I just heard the best punch line ever but the jokes not on me.
The meatheads pick me up and start down the back staircase with Anne and the greasy little manager following. I live for shit like this. I can hear sweet Annie crying and there’s now way I’m going to let her down.
I feel the snow hitting my face in the alley and I come alive, my fists hitting like sledgehammers. I feel teeth flying and eye sockets being crushed. I jam my fist into the bouncer with the body like a garbage bag of mashed potatoes and I hear his ribs snap. He falls to the ground and rolls around in pain in the snow. Mom would be so proud of me right now.
I let my mitts loose as they come at me. Bones snap and there are screams of terror. I am their worst nightmare in a trench coat.
One of the bouncers, a big football player type, jumps on my back. I spin around and around and toss him into a dumpster. His head hits the side and he is out cold. .
The manager lifts his gun but I’m too quick for the fat slob and I knock it out of his hand. He takes off running down the alley.
Annie is crouched against the wall crying. “Your shot.”
I pull my trench coat open and lift up my shirt. “Bullet proof vest.”
She runs up and hugs me and for a moment I’m transported to that golden place in my head. I see my mom hitting a heavy bag in heaven and my first Chihuahua Tank I running around her feet. For now I can fool myself into believing I could really get a dame like Annie. These are the moments I live for the ones that don’t come often for a guy like me. It’s not much but at least it’s something.
I step out of the Monte Carlo and slam the door shut. As I look up at the snow coming down I see the pink neon sign of the Exotic Spice Lounge. It hums like a swarm of mosquitoes and is covered with a thick layer of black grime that looks like chewing tobacco spit.
I take one last puff on my cigarillo and drop it in the snow at the door. The bouncer gives me the once over. He’s built like a trash bag filled with mashed potatoes. “I.D?”
I tilt the brim of my black Fedora up so he can see my cold hard eyes. “You don’t think I look like I’m old enough to come into this joint?”
He steps in my face. I hate when people step in my face. “No I.D. no tits and ass.”
“Is tits and ass a new salad dressing? I’m not sure I’ve tried that one before. Does Paul Newman put that out?”
“Huh?”
“Right, you probably don’t eat salads. You’re probably a tube steak eater.”
“What?”
“That’s what I thought.”
I flip open my wallet and am careful not to let this sap see my PI license. I hand him my driver’s license. He points what seems like a 40,000 watt flashlight at it. He keeps staring at it until I start to get agitated.
“You having trouble reading? I can translate.”
He takes a step closer, his mashed potato stomach pressing up against me. I slip my fists into my pockets and into my Mom’s brass knuckles, ready to take this cocksucker out. He pushes my I.D. in my face. “Have a good night.”
Calm down Ludlow. This isn’t worth it. Remember the big picture. Think of slow rolling ocean waves like the doc told you. That’s it.
I open the door and step inside. My ears are instantly assaulted by the stereo system blaring that crappy techno music. Its damn dark in here it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the nudity and when they do I make a b-line for the stage. Every shape and type of woman is on that stage jiggling things I didn’t even know were supposed to jiggle. I sit and pull out my wad of cash making sure everyone in the place sees it.
A brunette with pendulous breasts leans down in front of me and start swinging them. I am hypnotized. I start tossing one dollar bills at her like an old lady throwing bread to the pigeons in a park. I lean in and one of her breasts hits me in the eye. Her nipples are as big as acorns and I think that’s’ what pokes me in the cornea. I grab my eye in pain and fall back in my chair.
I peer around the stage with my one good eye. What I see is disgusting. Every type of three time loser is spending his paycheck on a certain girl he is sure will go home with him if he just throws her enough cash. I call it the big lie and these dames know how to sell it.
A curvy blond, wearing nothing but a note pad in her left hand, comes up to me. “Drink?”
I stare at her breasts. “Yes, I do.”
She cracks her gum. “Yes, I do what.”
“Drink.”
“That’s what I’m asking you. Do you want a drink?”
Goddamn it Ludlow snap out of it. You’re acting like a diabetic in a candy bar factory. Focus on the task at hand. “Sure, how about a Heineken?”
“One Heiney coming up.”
I stared at her hiney as she walks from my table. And then I see her; much more beautiful than her father described. She looks like she should be airbrushed on the side of one of those fancy conversion vans. She is staring at me with a look of raw lust. Yes, even in the dark club I can see it. She wants me. I never been more sure of anything in my life.
She’s dressed in a sheer robe and keeps walking my way. In an instant I’m testing the tensile strength of my boxer shorts.
She is right in front of me now. I’m about to say hello and ask her if she will you run away to Mexico with me. She steps around me. Okay, maybe I was wrong about her wanting me but I’m not wrong about is that she’s hugging some low life and she’s not smiling. She looks scared and now I don’t even notice she is naked. I focus on that bottom feeder. It’s got to be Ginger Speedly, the pimping piece of shit that has sweet Annie hooked on the horse. What kind of man calls himself Ginger?
“What did you say?”
Oh, shit I must have said that out loud. “Uh, are you the guy they call Ginger?”
He steps up to my face so his crotch is about 6 inches away. I could punch him in the balls so he’d be singing like Minnie Mouse for the rest of his life but I don’t operate like that. I need proof. Sure, I’d bust him in the balls if I found he was the low life I thought he was but now I have to remain calm.
“Why do you want to know?”
“Oh, no reason. I heard someone say you were the man.”
He seemed to like that. He smiled with gold teeth. “That’s right. I am the man.”
Sweet Annie Shore hugs the rhinestone encrusted sleeve of his pimp blazer. I want instantly and permanently to get rid of those shiny gold teeth.
The waitress sets my Heineken on my table. I stick ten bucks between her breasts and she flips her head back and catches the bill in her teeth. Someone somewhere would be proud to know there daughter just isn’t some lowly stripper but has real talents. “Well, I was told you’re the man that can get things.”
Ginger’s eyes narrow. “You a cop?”
“No, hell I don’t even like to wear blue it makes me look fat.”
“But you are fat.”
“To the naked eye I may look fat but if I’m standing real far away I just look small.”
“What?”
He stands and runs his fingers around the felt of his white derby unsure what to do. Then he smiles with those goddamn gold teeth. “You’re pretty damn funny.”
I try to smile back but I don’t think it comes out quite right. More like a half snarl. He doesn’t seem to notice.
Time to get this show on the road. I reach in the pocket of my trench coat and pull out my wad of cash. I purposely drop my money clip on the ground. “Ooops, sorry.” I light my Zippo and go down towards sweet Annie’s feet. I can see between her toes that she’s been shooting the needle there. “Oh there it is.” I picked up my money clip and jam it in my pocket with the cash.
Ginger looks at my wad like a chicken hawk watches a defenseless kitten rolling in a sand box of Shake-n-Bake. Now he knows I’m a player and he won’t leave me alone until one way or another all my money was in his pocket.
He licks his lips and they glisten like he’s wearing too much Chapstick. “You like the ladies?”
I take a sip of my beer. “I don’t like the ladies. I love the ladies.”
“Well, I just might be able to help you out.”
“Maybe but I don’t go for any of that funny stuff. I don’t want anyone pissing on my forehead or putting electrodes on my nipples?”
“What?”
“I like my women like I like my liquor, straight up.”
“You fucked up, man.”
“Maybe so but I know what I like. I look up at Annie. “How much for her?”
Anne looks like she might cry. I don’t blame her. My face looks like a baked potato someone threw against a brick wall.
Ginger rubs his stringy little goatee and I swear I see beads of grease drip to the floor. “Her now she’s special. I trained her myself. One night, fifteen-hundred dollars.”
I light a cigarillo and blow it in Ginger’s face. “She any good?”
“I just said I trained her myself mother fucker.”
These types don’t respect you if you don’t stand up to them. You can’t push too far but just enough to show you’re not a chump.
“And how do I know you’re a good trainer? You may be a premature ejaculator and have a 2 inch penis.”
“You’re really pushing it man.”
“Pushing is what I do best, well pushing and shoving.” I tuck my erection under my belt and stand. “I’ll take her. You got a room around here?”
Now Annie is really crying. I didn’t think I’m that bad. Ah, who am I fooling, yeah I am that bad. I’ve had many women before but come to think of it most of them had been extremely drunk.
Ginger stands. “Upstairs. And no funny stuff. I will be here all night and will be checking on you. Now give me my money.”
I reach in my pocket and peel fifteen one hundred dollar bills off my wad and handed them to the dirty little fuck bucket. “There you go.”
He pushes Annie towards me. I take her trembling hand with my big mitt and she leads me towards the back towards a staircase. I follow her up but I can’t even look at her. I feel too damn bad for the kid.
As Annie opens the door at the top of the stairs I look down. Ginger is sitting at a table at the bottom and waves at me. I nod.
She opens the door and pulls me inside shutting the door behind us. She keeps the lights off. I don’t blame her for that.
She grabs my shirt with both hands, ripping a good patch of chest hair out in the process. “You want me to suck your cock?”
“Yes, yes I do…I mean no. Let’s have a drink.”
She goes to the refrigerator and grabs two Budweisers and hands me one. Her beer is half empty by the time I get the cap off of mine. “You don’t like doing this do you?”
She stops drinking. “I love it baby. Especially with a handsome man like you.”
“Don’t give me that handsome man stuff, sister. I’m so ugly I can peel the paint off a wall if I stare at it long enough.”
She starts to cry. I catch a tear running down her cheek with my index finger and flick it on the ground. “I’m not here to sleep with you. I’m a PI hired by your father to get you out of this place.”
She puts her beer down and starts backing up. “You don’t know what he’ll do to me if he finds out.”
I set my beer down and ball up my mitts like two mallet heads. “He doesn’t know what I’ll do to him if he lays one hand on your head.”
The faucets are running full force now and her eye makeup looks like some sort of bad modern art. “Is my Dad okay?”
“His heart is broken but other than that he’s fine. He just wants his baby girl back and she’s coming with me if I have to fight every goddamn cocksucker in this joint.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“I’d do that because I was paid to do it and because it’s the right thing to do. And yeah I’d d it for you. You seem like an okay kid. Don’t be scared of me I may not be handsome or have fancy clothes but I can crack heads and count bodies.”
“Can I put some clothes on?”
“Yeah, get dressed and pack a bag. Only take what you really need. I’m going to get some money from your boyfriend so you can start over and we’ll get you to a rehab far away from here so that pig can’t find you.”
She frowns. “He carries a gun.”
I open up my trench coat exposing my six pistols, ammo, grenades, knife and machine gun. “I have more guns and I have these.” I pull my big mitts out and clench them tight.
She smiles and it make my heart feel like it is filled with helium. If I weren’t so goddamn heavy I’d probably float right now.
She hurries to the closet, pulls out a bag and starts to fill it.
I take out a cigarillo. “Mind if I smoke?”
“No go ahead.”
I light my cigarillo and inhale. You never know when your last smoke will come and so I take advantage of the moment. She pulls on some jeans, a sweatshirt and shoes.
“I’m ready.”
I drop my cigarillo on the ground and rub it out with my boot. “Stay behind me no matter what.”
I rear back with my size twelve and kick the door in half. Pieces of the door slide down the stairs. I hear Ginger yell, “What the fuck?”
In an instant I hear him running up the stairs. We step to the side and he comes barreling through the door. I meet his jaw with my fist and his head snaps backwards. “Didn’t think I could hit that hard did you?”
He falls over a coffee table and his gun goes off. I jump on top of him and start pounding my fists into his face, grinding it down to the bone.
Full needles fall out of his pockets. I pick one up and jab it in his arm. He’s gone. Way out in la la land and he won’t be coming back any time soon. I reach in his nasty rhinestone pimp jacket and pull out close to fifteen grand in one-hundred dollar bills. I also take four grand out of my own pocket put it on the stack and turn around.
I extend my hand. “Here this is yours.”
Annie takes the money and stuffs it in her bag. She leans over and kisses me on the forehead. “Thank-you. I don’t even know your name but you’re my knight in shining armor.”
“If I had armor it would probably be dented and have ketchup stains on it. Now, let’s get out of here.”
We turn towards the door to leave and standing there are four bouncers and the manager who is carrying a gun. The manager steps forward. “Don’t you fucking move.”
“Fucking move? Is that some sort of sexual position?”
The manager smiles and his fat cheeks nearly cover his eyes. “I’ll shoot you.”
I take a cigarillo out and light it. “You’re going to have to do better than that fuck nut.”
He pulls the trigger and I take one in the gut and fall to the ground. I lay as still as a possum.
The manager kicks me in the side. I still don’t move. “What the fuck is going on here, Annie?”
“I don’t know. He went crazy. He was smoking crack.”
“Boys take him down the back staircase we’ll have to dump him out in the quarry.”
Inside I’m laughing like I just heard the best punch line ever but the jokes not on me.
The meatheads pick me up and start down the back staircase with Anne and the greasy little manager following. I live for shit like this. I can hear sweet Annie crying and there’s now way I’m going to let her down.
I feel the snow hitting my face in the alley and I come alive, my fists hitting like sledgehammers. I feel teeth flying and eye sockets being crushed. I jam my fist into the bouncer with the body like a garbage bag of mashed potatoes and I hear his ribs snap. He falls to the ground and rolls around in pain in the snow. Mom would be so proud of me right now.
I let my mitts loose as they come at me. Bones snap and there are screams of terror. I am their worst nightmare in a trench coat.
One of the bouncers, a big football player type, jumps on my back. I spin around and around and toss him into a dumpster. His head hits the side and he is out cold. .
The manager lifts his gun but I’m too quick for the fat slob and I knock it out of his hand. He takes off running down the alley.
Annie is crouched against the wall crying. “Your shot.”
I pull my trench coat open and lift up my shirt. “Bullet proof vest.”
She runs up and hugs me and for a moment I’m transported to that golden place in my head. I see my mom hitting a heavy bag in heaven and my first Chihuahua Tank I running around her feet. For now I can fool myself into believing I could really get a dame like Annie. These are the moments I live for the ones that don’t come often for a guy like me. It’s not much but at least it’s something.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
One Chance to be human
You get one chance to ring the bell.
You get one chance to say good-bye.
You get one chance at life
You get one chance at death.
You get one chance at me.
You got no more chances.
So long kid.
You get one chance to say good-bye.
You get one chance at life
You get one chance at death.
You get one chance at me.
You got no more chances.
So long kid.
Everybody Is Out To Get Me: Death. Do It Right.
“My concept of death for a long time was to come down that mountain road at a hundred and twenty and just keep going straight right there, burst out through the barrier and hang out above all that . . . and there I'd be sitting in the front seat, stark naked, with a cast of whiskey next to me, and a case of dynamite in the trunk . . . honking the horn, and the lights on, and just sit there in space for an instant, a human bomb, and fall down into that mess of steel mills. It'd be a tremendous goddamn explosion. No pain. No one would get hurt. I'm pretty sure, unless they've changed the highway, that launching place is still there. As soon as I get home, I ought to take a drive just to check it out.” Hunter S. Thompson
That sounds about right although I’m not advocating death as a Goddamn hobby because there are too many amateurs out there who will think it’s the new “in” thing to do and they will somehow fuck it up. You only get one good shot at death and if your nerves aren’t steady, your hand slips or your legs give out at a crucial moment you’ll spend the rest of your days in some assisted care living facility sucking pureed rutabagas out of a straw and watching your insane roommate jack off to Martha Stewart baking a lemon crusted tart on Oprah. It’s not a pretty picture I paint but then I didn’t write this to coddle the weak kneed or the faint of heart because well, they’re lost causes anyway.
If the assisted living scenario doesn’t deter you from taking that final big black step, as I like to call it, then you might want to chew on another less than palpable piece of tin roofing. If life has got you way down, you walked in on your landlord screwing your lifeless beagle or some tattling coworker caught you in the bathroom stall at work sticking $400,000 dollars worth of embezzled company stock certificates into a bodily orifice or some other likely scenario then I want you to pause and consider those that you’re leaving behind before you eat that cyanide laced burrito. Yeah, I know I hated pulling that floppy ace card out from under my toupee but it had to be done but not for the reasons that are sitting on that hardly used filing cabinet in the records department of your brain. Sure, someone will care you’re gone but that’s not what I’m talking about. What I would want you to consider is all of us that will have to attend those sappy postmortem ceremonies. Do you really think I want to see you lying in some high priced packing crate made up like Bela Lugosi with crouched and weeping widows sniffling into hankies that smell like 28th century horse blankets? Sure I want to sit through six hours of lamenting and bawling from the speeches of your sixty closest friends. Would that preacher with the eye patch and dandruff on his lapel really think you’re in heaven with the divine flocks dancing with angels? If anything you’d be up there with a pooper scooper following the flocks around making minimum wage and living in a tenement cloud. Death has its reality too and if there is a heaven you might want to consider your status here on earth as you weren’t exactly a choirboy down here so I wouldn’t rush to the exit door.
As a last resort to dissuade you from checking before your stay is through I will promise to unleash an unholy torrent of largely fallacious anecdotes about your character once they have laid the turf over the dirt spot on your grave. It’s called blackmail my friend and I’m not above it. In fact I’ll tell everyone that you’re a goat abuser and a premature ejaculator that never satisfied anything other than the loan on his 78 Malibu. So don’t you dare try dying on me. Leave that doomsday scenario to the pros. You’ll be no Goddamn good at dying. I’m sure of it. Get it? Got it? Good.
Last night my power went out at nine o’clock and didn’t come back on until I had already gone to bed. So, I couldn’t put the finishing touches on my latest Burma story and I couldn’t finish the CD cover for Cindy Lou. To make matters worse I tried to turn on my fairly new computer this morning and it was dead. I think it got fried. I will check it again when I get home but it’s not looking good…
Boycotting Heaven
I have come to the conclusion that dying is overrated and therefore I have decided to not take part in the whole mortality thing. My preparation for living forever shall begin here today and I shall document it so that others may follow my example. I will simply refuse to age, not partake in gray and then white hair or sagging skin or aching joints. I will never let my home smell like moth balls or stop going to the gym. I shall will my heart to keep beating long after it should have stopped and tie a board to my back so that it never bends. I will stay away from the tunnel and wear sunglasses so I can’t see the light. I will buy futures in coal in hopes I will live to see it turn to diamonds. Fuck dying I’m having too much fun now and I never want it to end.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Well, I knew it would happen eventually. Muggsy and I were banned for life from the Bunny Ranch. When you live on the edge, your toes hanging over and your weight shifted forward, your teeth gritted on the pin of the grenade of life, and a 70-pound rock of possibility balancing on your head, something will have to eventually give. And so it did at the Bunny Ranch when someone shoved Muggsy at the bar because the retired star whore in residence who came back out of retirement just to see Muggsy turned down his money. I know she has a thing for Muggsy but his freewheeling bachelor lifestyle doesn’t allow him to be tied down to one woman, even a woman of her abundant talents. At any rate this guy took offense to her affection for Muggsy and of course I had to get involved and cold cocked the mother fucker with a magnum of Dom Perignon. We spent the night running through the desert and made it back to the airport just in time to catch our flight back. I will call the Bunny Ranch this week and try to smooth things over. Muggsy has been distraught all week and I feel responsible…
New Jersey Mass Murderer Dies at 88
A recluse who read the Bible and loved guns, he was convinced his neighbors were ridiculing him behind his back and plotting against him. He was also depressed about his homosexual liaisons in a Philadelphia movie theater.
http://news.aol.com/article/howard-barton-unruh-new-jersey-mass/723531
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And you wonder why I had a gun and bible burning party Sunday night? Well, it is also to get back at those radicals that burn literature because they don't have the intellect to understand it.
Yes, the gun and bible burning Sunday night was a success. I had over 500 people that came and with the help of local sponsorship I passed out over 275 cases of beer. We had several incidences of people trying to pass big dictionaries off as bibles but these fakers were quickly led off the premises. I am happy to report that no one attempted to pass off a toy gun as a real gun.
I'm not against hunting or target shooting but for god's sake do you really need an automatic weapon to shoot a squirrel? Look at all the lunatics that are going out and just blasting people away. You really think something shouldn't be done about this? I bet if it were your family member that got shot you would think differently...
Lyrics from Rollins Band song Civilized
I wonder what you're like without the gun
I'd like to see when you're not hiding behind the gun
how you've lived your life without the gun
'cause I know how I lived mine
because you got one, yeah, 'cause that's what it is
you hide behind your gun
you gotta have a gun then you're just another pig to me
By BRUCE SHIPKOWSKI, AP
An excerpt from this article:
An excerpt from this article:
A recluse who read the Bible and loved guns, he was convinced his neighbors were ridiculing him behind his back and plotting against him. He was also depressed about his homosexual liaisons in a Philadelphia movie theater.
http://news.aol.com/article/howard-barton-unruh-new-jersey-mass/723531
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And you wonder why I had a gun and bible burning party Sunday night? Well, it is also to get back at those radicals that burn literature because they don't have the intellect to understand it.
Yes, the gun and bible burning Sunday night was a success. I had over 500 people that came and with the help of local sponsorship I passed out over 275 cases of beer. We had several incidences of people trying to pass big dictionaries off as bibles but these fakers were quickly led off the premises. I am happy to report that no one attempted to pass off a toy gun as a real gun.
I'm not against hunting or target shooting but for god's sake do you really need an automatic weapon to shoot a squirrel? Look at all the lunatics that are going out and just blasting people away. You really think something shouldn't be done about this? I bet if it were your family member that got shot you would think differently...
Lyrics from Rollins Band song Civilized
I wonder what you're like without the gun
I'd like to see when you're not hiding behind the gun
how you've lived your life without the gun
'cause I know how I lived mine
because you got one, yeah, 'cause that's what it is
you hide behind your gun
you gotta have a gun then you're just another pig to me
Monday, October 19, 2009
Well, I finally asked her and she said yes. Thank-you, yes this is a wonderful day. I wasn’t sure I could do it but I did. Ever since I first saw her I knew. Friday is the day. She is so beautiful I can’t even put it into words so I am going to photograph her. That’s right. I asked her to pose nude for me and she said yes! Now I know there is a god...
A group of friends and I bought several bottles of grain alcohol and mixed it with fruit punch from the Seven Eleven. When we were done with the grain we hit my parent’s liquor cabinet but we still needed more booze so Red and I got in my car and drove into town. I was so fucked up I didn’t see the need to stop at the four way traffic stop and was about to blow through when Red jammed his foot down on mine and we screeched to a stop. A semi flew through the intersection.
Red laughed. “Damn, you weren’t going to stop.”
I hit the gas. “Probably not.”
“Well don’t do that again. You almost got us killed.”
We both laughed and continued into the pizza shop where a twenty-one year old was going to buy us booze.
Red laughed. “Damn, you weren’t going to stop.”
I hit the gas. “Probably not.”
“Well don’t do that again. You almost got us killed.”
We both laughed and continued into the pizza shop where a twenty-one year old was going to buy us booze.
We stood on that rock way up on that mountain and looked down over the river. I turned to kiss you but you were already gone. Your body was there but your mind was blown and there was no way you were coming back. I led you back to the car and we drove in silence back to your place. You got out of my car without a word and started to walk inside. You turned back once and I saw the tears on your face. I knew I would never see you again but I was happy. I drove off and haven’t seen you since…
Cottage 2006
How the hell does Luch manage to get in every damn picture I take? He always has to be the center of attention...
In this moment as I contemplate my life I can truly say I hate no one that I know or have known. It comes from an inner peace and perhaps fading memories or maybe hating just takes up too much energy. You are who you are or were and I am who I will always be. I can’t change you or your feelings nor do I want to. If I never see you again then you will always be the person I last knew good or bad. There is no going back. There is only tomorrow and the day after that. My hopes that all of you will live a good life and fulfill your dreams. If everyone I ever knew were happy how could I wish for anything else? That alone would be enough to sustain me and send me to my grave with a smile on my face…maybe I smoked too much pot tonight.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
I am going to propose something that might seem outlandish at first but bear with me. What I propose is that if you are indeed mentally unhinged that you act that way all the time. Don’t put on an act and pretend you are a happy and fun person. Don’t smile and act shy. Eventually your true self will show through anyway so just be a raging lunatic all the time. Let your google eyes pop out! Hell, I will high five you as you run by me in the mall with your pants down around your ankles.
You see if you follow this plan then the rest of us don’t have to get to know you and find you keep a collection of rotting chicken bones under your bed or that you build replica model cars out of hair you find when you stalk people. We don’t have to be conned by your awe shucks bullshit only to find out that you have more mental problems than Charles Manson. This way all the people that are real and somewhat normal can reside on one side of town and all the fake crazies can reside on the other. We never have to cross paths again! Think about it. You can be with all your crazy friends and just let loose all the time. What a beautiful world it would be.
You see if you follow this plan then the rest of us don’t have to get to know you and find you keep a collection of rotting chicken bones under your bed or that you build replica model cars out of hair you find when you stalk people. We don’t have to be conned by your awe shucks bullshit only to find out that you have more mental problems than Charles Manson. This way all the people that are real and somewhat normal can reside on one side of town and all the fake crazies can reside on the other. We never have to cross paths again! Think about it. You can be with all your crazy friends and just let loose all the time. What a beautiful world it would be.
Evidently it has been said that I worship money--of course all my friends know this to be true. I sleep on a mattress of one-hundred dollar bills and I sell crack out of an ice-cream truck to pre-teens (this is how I fund my retirement account) when I’m not busy watching the Stock Market. So what I am going to propose is that the empty church down the road from my home be converted to the Church of the Almighty Dollar. I will be Pastor Dollar Signs and my sermons will be on strategies of how to rip off old, scared and gullible people. Oh, wait, that’s what some church’s do already. Damn, and I thought I was on to something. Back to the drawing board.
Cause I Love You
I bought myself a big shiny belt buckle with your picture laminated on it. I’m going out tonight and I’m going to spit shine that belt buckle so everyone in the bar can see you baby. When I two step the glare off your teeth shining off my belt buckle will look like a laser light show at one of them Pink Floyd gigs. I do that cause I love you baby. I’m also going to tie your dead Momma’s handkerchief around my cowboy thigh and make my leg go dead and then dance on the other leg. I do that cause I love you. And when it’s all said and done and then band plays its final tune I’ll down my last shot of Jack go out in the parking lot, take out my Colt and blow a hole in my head. Then we’ll be together in Hell forever, baby. I do that cause I love you baby that’s why I do what I do. Cause I love you.
In light of someone pointing out that I have a receding hairline—thank-you, I was totally unaware—I shall start shopping for toupees. So, if you see me with a pompadour please just go with it. Act natural. Pretend it’s high school again and there was never a time in-between my mullet and my current widowed peak. Buy me hair products for Christmas and gift certificates to the local hair dressers so I think you are all fooled. We can all live this beautiful hairy lie together and happiness will once again be ours.
Well, we're on a flight headed to the Bunny Ranch again. Muggsy talked me into it by promising he'd pay. We're both drunk as fuck and each took some sort of speed which will keep us up for the duration. We also procured a bottle of Mr. Blues and popped several of those. I'm sort of worried about that. I already have a hard on and we're only half way to our destination. I think on the commercials it said to call your doctor if you have an erection that lasts more than four hours. Fuck, what have I done? I think I'll ask the flight attendant for some ice...
Friday, October 16, 2009
-Welcome to my twisted world. If you are not prepared to be disturbed or at the very least uncomfortable then I would take two steps back and quietly shut the door. Those who know me will find characters I write through that they may not like. This is to be expected. What is fact and what is fiction? That is for you to decide. Those that know me know where my heart lies and what I would do for them. There should be then no question about my character. You know I’d confront the bad guys for you, take that bullet for you. It’s not that I don’t value my own life but I value you my friends even more so don’t forget that as you journey through my worlds that I am me and my writing is my writing. So please laugh and hate me if you have to but know I don’t mean anyone harm. I’m really just a big kid who wants people to be laughing when they lower him into the ground.
I thought things were okay with us and I guess I was wrong. Or maybe I just didn’t think enough about the future and all the bad things that could be. I had no reason to. Being with you made me happy and I was content with what we had. Sure, I hoped we would get to know each other better, do more things and we would grow closer but I didn’t want to ruin things with expectations. But you saw it differently. You thought of all the bad things that might happen and all the bad things I could be. I guess I can’t blame you for not taking a chance on me. I know I’m nobody special, my hairline is thin and I don’t care about being rich but what I did care about was you. We laughed together until my jaw hurt and when you hugged me I felt whole. I don’t have that now and I realize I probably never will and I’m empty inside because of it.
-I’m really rolling on my Burma Ludlow book. I hope to have a second draft done by the end of 2009. Hopefully by the spring it will be ready to send to my editor. Now, if I can only remember where I put my external hard drive last night. I can’t find the fucker and yes it has the only updated version of my book on it. Yeah, I know it’s stupid but what can I say? I like to live dangerously.
So, I get a message on my phone from Muggsy. Yes, it was from his I-Phone. (he loves when I tell people that). At any rate, it was one of his half hour long voicemails which are actually pretty entertaining. In this one he suggested we take one of my writing pieces and turn it into a short film. Muggsy went to art school in Kansas and is working on a degree in animation. He’s the most talented artist I’ve ever met. In fact in high school I had to design an album cover for an art project. I got Muggsy to do the Neil Young cover for me and it was really professional looking. In fact it was too good. When I got my grade back I was really disappointed to have received a B. I went to the teacher and asked her why I only got a B. She said, “I gave you a B on it. Muggsy got an A on it.” I didn’t complain, she knew it was too good to be mine and only one person in the school could have done that cover and he just happened to be one of my best friends. He wasn’t even in my class and she knew it was him. Ha ha I took the B.
I tried to call him back today but couldn’t reach him yet--he might have flown back out to the Bunny Ranch. ( I’m really afraid he has a full blown addiction on his hands ) I can see some really cool stuff developing here. And no this isn’t a porn movie (get your mind out of the gutter Luch). And this isn’t a ploy to pick up chicks…although I’m not against that if it happens. So we’ll pick one of my stories and work it into a screenplay. Next week we’re going to sit down with some cigars and bourbon and start planning. Are we going to get famous doing this? Hell, I don’t know. We’re going to do it for the art man. That’s what artists do, they express themselves. Why do we need to do that? Fuck I don’t know. It just is what it is.
Oh and hurry back Luch if we do decide to shoot a porn that 80’s porn star mustache your growing and the fact that you have big blue will get you a role in the film.
I tried to call him back today but couldn’t reach him yet--he might have flown back out to the Bunny Ranch. ( I’m really afraid he has a full blown addiction on his hands ) I can see some really cool stuff developing here. And no this isn’t a porn movie (get your mind out of the gutter Luch). And this isn’t a ploy to pick up chicks…although I’m not against that if it happens. So we’ll pick one of my stories and work it into a screenplay. Next week we’re going to sit down with some cigars and bourbon and start planning. Are we going to get famous doing this? Hell, I don’t know. We’re going to do it for the art man. That’s what artists do, they express themselves. Why do we need to do that? Fuck I don’t know. It just is what it is.
Oh and hurry back Luch if we do decide to shoot a porn that 80’s porn star mustache your growing and the fact that you have big blue will get you a role in the film.
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