Sunday, November 21, 2004

I Am the Sum Total of My DNA

My grandfather, Warren, played the tuba in WWII and was in the Army band.
My grandmother said being in the band was the only thing keeping him from going AWOL. Warren fought the Germans in WWII and was even awarded the Bronze Star for Bravery in the line of duty for tying a tourniquet on an officer�s arm/leg (not sure) which is crazy.
crazy because i don't think i even knew that before (just like i didn't know that my grandmother, Warren's wife, played basketball for four years. but that's another story for another day).
Warren was drafted in 1942 and was apparently in the service through 1945. He and my grandmother, who 'courted' for most of those three years while he was gone via letters to each other, were married in 1946 and my Dad was born February 23, 1947. So they didn't waste a whole lot of time.
Also, Gerry was talking about a tank that Warren was supposed to be in normally and had taken off because he had something to do. Well, that tank hit a landmine and blew everyone in it to bits. They had begun to send word home that either he or a fellow soldier in his division was killed when in actuality that was untrue. But due to the nature of the death, it was difficult, obviously to identify the bodies.
But the whole music thing is what�s especially intriguing. That and my grandfather's decision to do something and not get in the tank at that time is the reason i'm fucking here right now saying this. i love the concept of seemingly innocuous decisions ending up having a gigantor effect on your entire life.
But now, i have a clearer understanding of my supposed inborn interest in music, despite the fact that my parents weren't very interested in it. somewhat they were interested because i spent many hours listening to their old 7-inch records when i was a child.
my grandfather, who died in 1978 at age 57, apparently also played the guitar, the trumpet and a few other instruments.
so there's that. neat.
we were talking about all this because my grandmother celebrated her 80th birthday on Saturday, November 20. 80! she's outlived all of her siblings and she had a lot of siblings.

i like it China blue.


Robert Zinsky makes a fucking fine merlot. i recommend. i love wines and their nuances (though i'm still learning about red wines). being a huge fan of beverages, that's not a big surprise. still. it is a mighty thing to have, good beverages. i purchased many beverages today.

including some hella expensive coffee, the jamaican blue. the damn fine good shit.
but way too expensive.


I have four short-sleeved button down orange shirts. What is the meaning of this? Four i tell you, including one to add to the collection via the estate sale at Scout's yesterday. Scout's new house is the shit, the bomb, the bomb chronic, the fucking swiss cheese be-all end-all mutha fucka. and i ain't trippin' at all at that shizen. fu*k. but shit, why do i have so many shirts of the same hue? it must be something that's wrong with me, making me think so foolishly. maybe it's coincidence. or maybe it's the fact that you've been depantsed one too many times.


Leave your indie cred with the attendant.


People should note the similarity in my headline regarding the Detroit Pistons to others used in the mainstream media. They were copying my ass bitches. That was in my previous post, bitches, witches and switches.


Thanksgiving plays a role maybe in my introspection toward family.
No, not really. But I�m always intrigued to hear things about my family and how they have potentially influenced me and my personality.
Thanksgiving has always been, to me, about being together with friends and/or family and therefore, without much religion involved. but now that too is likely to change, in the wake of our so-called christian 'awakening.' retardo. Enrico Palazzo believes these things i say.
Thanksgiving is a time to give thanks, eat food, reminisce about dead people and drink to much liquor. It also means it's time to sit a little longer on the toilet the next day, contemplating America, America the book and America the lean.


I�m competitive and I like swiss cheese.


Last night was a whirlwind of activity.
i gave away a lot of cds. i had hella friends up in that piece. it was righteous yo.
and then there was Mr. Timecop/Cobra complete with the match sticking out of one side of his mouth up yonder and his sunglasses taking his ass home. something about him being a VJ and wanting to know how he could make the transition to that place, the slanted door. interesting indeed.

oh yeah grandma and chicken for supper.
but yeah, three groups of friends for the timmmmmmmmiiiiiii.
and you know i like me some M's.

shit yeah.
molly, ted and teddy's parents all the way from nyc. live love.
the disc golf posse, featuring mr. murphy, mr. poletiek and mr. fisher.
then ms. locklear, mr. fuller and ms. B. all there in the house.
oh! and Amy was there too. she's an ex of a roomie and a really cool girl.
but i also had hella accolades. there was the family very interested in my work. the kids loved it especially. there was the older guy, kind of annoying, who i gave a cd to anyway. what the fuck? there was the woman whose girlfriend was getting hit upon by some drunk fuck wearing a hawaiian shirt and a stupid hat (that same annoying fuck later came up to me and told me i look like elton john, but 'from like 30 years ago.' thank god for small miracles), who i gave a cd to as a way for her to feel better, as she seemed to be unloading on me (what is it about my face that says "please tell me the most personal details of your life even though i don't know you at all"?) about the fact her girlfriend was getting hit upon. it was only when said girlfriend showed up that i realized the women were a couple.
but yeah, gave away all my cds. all of the. kind of a magical night. i shot my load, for sure, and played up the damn good tunes for all to hear, enjoy and piffle with.

punched out the good shit. played it up. hammed it up. i lived the life. i'm already halfway there.
maybe i should write myself a check a la jim carrey, no?


There was the scotch party at peter's too. excellent scotch. too early of an evening though. i wanted to see ellen allien. i was enjoying the liquor a mite much though. so it's a good thing i'm alive and ready for the world.


Less is more.
We gotta gets to Barcelona. we are going to barcelona. i say it here, i say it loud, i say it proud.
i am going to barcelona.
leaving the country.


DPG in the place to be. DPG may not be a match for King Kitty though.
don't be an enigma.
What time to I go to work Monday morning. Is early.
Remember the night i stayed in the car in Tim Danowski's driveway while he got into a fight with some kids and I stayed in the car while some idiot dude punched his fists against my driver's side window in my 1972 Volvo? Remember that?
ah, the ol' cheesebox, as it was called by some.
it was a good first car. in retrospect only, of course.

Everything is beautiful in its own fey way.

FFF is coming back.
1. high fives.
2. green day.
3. barcelona anticipation
4. hello it's me and other fine hits
5. fans
6. decapitation
7. emancipation
8. escalation
9. indignation
10. contemplation

Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat.
Over the river and through the woods, to grandmother's house we go.

let's get some numbers, shall we?
burn baby burn.

i'm glad i don't live in haiti anymore.
not that i ever did.
but still.

chocolate rhythm(s).

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