viernes, 29 de julio de 2011

Ticking.. into.. Tomorrow

i can see my lifetime piling up
-Talking Heads

Okay - it's 21:52

i have just set 5:04:29 hours of music on my computer. That should be enough between tonight and manana to sort things out.

How long have i lived here? In Madrid? 4+ years? How is that possible? Living here is like breathing. Seems like i've always done it. I love you all. Miss you all. But how did this place become home?

Email me if you figure it out.

- - -

I woke up this morning and went to get paid. Then ate lunch. Gazpacho and an Argentian mixed grill. Awesome! Then class. The J&J's for an hour of happiness. And now... the big good-bye.

You know, blog readership goes up 18.2 % when i move. Which is the real reason why i move so much. We're closing in on 6,000 page views in less than the past 2 years people! Good for us. And thank you. All of you. I still can't believe all of you still read this rag. It's quite exemplary. Seriously. Sometimes i bore myself. Often actually.


No. Fuck that. I'm entertaining as hell. I'm laughing at me right now. I'm enamored with myself. Just a little winded from all the moving and moving things.

When i came in at 9:48, Danny's keys were in the door. I called his name and walked into his room. He was on the terrace, wasted as a lemur. He slurred some thanks to me as i gave him his keys. "No pasa nada," i said (no problem).

I talked with a friend, Ian, and he is a bassist/guitarist who is into prog rock. I had Goran play The Cinema Show by Genesis ('73 with Gabriel.) He lost his mind and said, "They sound just like Marillion!"

"Vice-versa, my son," i said.

And, he reply to a question posed just 11:04 minutes beforehand he said, "Hell yes! Let's start a band!"

And then plans were being made.

Lay it on the line

Then his girlfriend rings the bell. I still don't fucking know her name. I buzz her in like 3 times but she kept buzzing. 10 minutes later, when she finally emerged from the elevator, she said "Where's Danny?"

I said, "I saw him just ten minutes ago. Maybe he's asleep."

"Maybe he is Skyping," she said and walked past me to his bedroom.

"Or maybe he's ossified," i said to no one. I hadn't blown the whistle on him, but he was busted as soon as she saw him. I've been cleaning and blaring old Rainbow with Dio. So if things got heated, i don't hear shit.

The times are few and far between, but there are times when only one ear is an advantage.

We're just waiting for the hammer to fall

If nothing, life is a contact sport.

I have always believed that. I'll always believe that. It gets a bit extracting at times, but if you know how to play, and you have a bit of luck, it can be a lot of fun.

Bless us every one!


Continue packing i must.


A representative for Michelle Bachman, he said his name was Sly Mi Wiener ( or at least that's what i heard..., maybe he's Chinese/German/American - i don't know!) and he asked me to delete my last blog entry.

I told him the following; "Go to hell."

"Ms. Bachman is willing to offer a large cash settlement."

"Tell ya what, Sly Mi, i'll delete the blog, permanent like, ya just gotta do one thing..."

"Go on."

"Michelle has to wipe my sister's ass, outside the new arena in Newark, with her last failed attempt at disenfranchising gay people in the good state of Minnesota."

"Are you a terrorist, sir?"

"No i'm not, you whorebag. Sir?!! Sir??!!! And only whores call me sir, just cuz i like it. Your mama's a terrorist. I'm a voter. So just tell Her Pray Yourself Not Gayness that until she wipes my sister's ass in Newark (i know, it sounds redundant, but i'm not trying to be funny here), that the post will never come down, unlike her husband's boner, if it ever existed."

"i'll give her the message, sir."

"Thanks Jeeves. Tell her she's got till 00:00 manana. After that i'm going to blog all over her."

"Assuredly sir, assuredly."

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