Oh, for the love of Pete

No, not Pete, some other guy on the Internet.

Scanged from Fark.  This could never have happened with me and Paul.  I would have figured him out from the typos almost immediately.  Mind you, I will never in a thousand lifetimes be able to fix an aircraft, so the typos aren’t really an idscf0066.JPGssue in the grand scheme of things.
Yesterday somebody asked me how the manhunt was going (not, thank God) and referred me to Craigslist.  I said, “Been there, etc.; I got one nebbish, one crazy, and one nice guy who didn’t want to have anything to do with me.  I’ll stick with what I got, and nobody has to listen to me snore, thanks!”

I keep watching the Happy Feet section of King of Jazz.  I really like watching Paul Whiteman dance – yes, I like watching the fat guy dance.  What’s wrong with that?  The other thing I keep watching is the unbelievable King of Jazz S&M sequence in “I’d like to do things for you” which, honest to Murgatroyd, is odd beyond compare.   When the guy starts lisping about spanking in baby talk my mouth hangs open about a yard.

We were down three people at work yesterday, and I got to be on the phone all day.  But the Fool was my day card, so I went into every interaction as a brand new fool – and all the customers were wonderful except one, and he turned out not to be my problem.  Anyway, I got a pile of orders to the ceiling, so, on the assumption that today will be like yesterday (it won’t…..) I’ll go into work a trifle early.

I restrung my guitar yesterday, the Nanostrings having grown this weird fungus-y thing on them.  I got Martin bronze and steels instead.  Immediately one of my old songs “All the Con Men I have Known” which is partly about Brian W – wherever he is, and partly about Kevin D – ditto, at least from what his wife tells me – and partly about Wally Solotow, may the goddess rest his soul, came into my mind and I rehearsed it for tonight.  I then picked up the guitar and wrung it into shape (the Seagull stays in tune very well once you bang it in) and got the chorus to a song which is going to be called “Little Cat” except of course it’s not about cats at all.  Then I started work on a mando chord progression which is extremely weird but I think will eventually turn into a song.

I am going to share a small secret.  About half a dozen times in my life, I’ve written a song that wasn’t true at the time but reflected a situation or emotional state, good or bad, and over time the EXACT words of the song have come true; or have since become hideously ironic.  I wrote a song with the lines “Well I wish I knew when we’d meet on earth again” within about 12 hours of Glenda dying last year, and that was a little close for comfort, when I found out afterwards, especially as my recollection of the song was that I had to stop what I was doing and write it.  I recollect it clearly; I was in the kitchen and for once alone in the house (songwriting with Keith around is an entire pain in the ass).   Anyway, it happened again.  I can’t say I’m entirely happy about it, because it’s just so bizarre, and the experiment is not repeatable or quantifiable, but imagine what it’s like to be me these days! Just think, if I write the correct lyrics I’ll win the lottery.

Pic is of the moon over the city from the deck at Jericho.

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Born when atmospheric carbon was 316 PPM. Settled on MST country since 1997. Parent, grandparent.

3 thoughts on “Oh, for the love of Pete”

  1. Write the lyrics about me winning the lottery and I will split with you. Of course I have already won once already when Her who must be adored and i were in the same high school class.

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