Lower East Side Story: II

nope, not by Goines but by me and not the story but the murder. anyway, judging from the mail i've received lately and might i add, mail becoming more and more – dare i say it? shit, why not? – eager, either people have forgotten they've read it on my real site or i have new readers – dunno and as usual, i'm doing it for myself so i don't care. then again, eons ago when i worked in the publishing world, it was believed that for every letter somone'd written, a hundred didn't. actually, one might extrapolate from there (but i'd rather not cause it scares me).

OK, here's the ending of the true story of an evening from way, way back in yet another lifetime, the start of which i posted here just under three weeks ago . *cough* now where was i? right, Gordy and i had just witnessed a murder – a Latino called Rocky stabbed a black guy to death – whilst we all waited to score in a particularly nasty building on NYC's Lower East Side. i finished part I by writing:

Our greed was such that this most gruesome thing in the world had happened but like the junkie jerks we were, we all stayed anyway. This didn't occur to me until I wrote most of it all down here (in my journal) when very, very stoned later on that night.

Rocky was unfazed as he dragged the dead guy off the line and over to the side. Suddenly the room erupted in a sort of hushed roar; everyone was talking at once but trying to keep it down. I leaned against my friend in terror and felt him shaking as well as me. The atmosphere was like the embodiment of some wild hallucination; our frozen clammy hands and perspiring bodies, the unreal nightmarish things we all had just witnessed, the occasional horrified face seen dripping with sweat, caught in the moonlight which streamed through the holes in the roof and the cracks in the walls... and then there was the stench.

We were all used to the stink of the long-condemned building but now it seemed to grow much closer and smell much worse due to the blood pouring from the body in the heat of the overcrowded room. Yeah, first he was 'some black guy' but within seconds he became 'the body'. It might've been my imagination but I'd swear I could smell the blood as it spread out underneath him, adding another layer of terror to the steaming miasma of the filthy little room. For once my motor mouth was shut because I was too frightened to whisper and wanted to split ASAP. Whether it was greed, denial, fear of drawing Rocky's attention by pushing out of the room or the sudden realisation that we actually needed to get high to balance out or maybe repair the inner turmoil of witnessing a murder... for whatever reason, we stayed.

Rocky came back on line in front of us and we instantly dropped about a foot away from him, as far behind him as we could without pressing against those who came in after we did. And then the hush turned into a loud babble when we suddenly heard a bang at the front and the slot was open for business again, so we all surged forward. For that one moment, I'd forgotten what'd happened a minute or so earlier. And then, as if the room had a mind of its own, the babble went from 'They're open!' to 'Murder!'

In the dim light the corpse was almost invisible but any newcomer would quickly get hip just by listening in. The first person up front finished his business and turned to leave. Not looking at anyone, he walked very quickly and I wished he were me. As those still on line got louder and louder and we got closer to the slot, Rocky turned around and hissed 'Shut up!' Incredibly the room was quiet again. We watched him wipe his knife on a rag he picked up off the floor and in a voice one would use to explain something to an incredibly stupid child, he quietly informed us 'If we don't shut the fuck up, they'll close the window and we won't get served.'

He was absolutely right and we all knew it. And everyone immediately shut up, got served and went home. We couldn't get off cause our hands were still shaking so I put on a Clash tape and took a bath. I peeked out before I got into the tub and saw my friend sitting on the edge of the bed with an open book in his hands. But he was kind of looking off, out the windows to the backyards of East 7th Street with an unreadable expression on his handsome face. Although by then I'd known him for ages, I'd never seen that expression before. Then when I was done, he took a shower before hitting the both of us up.

We didn't say anything about what happened that night and I didn't bother asking but we couldn't meet each other's eyes and I'd never felt that way with him before. It was as if we'd done something so incredibly monstrous or evil, we were to blame and totally complicit which, of course, we were. I think it was the guilt and greed we shared; guilt that prevented us from reporting a murder because of our greed. I idly wondered if things were ever going to be the same between us and at that point, decided I didn't really care because I was so totally disgusted with myself.

By the way, the shit was dynamite, really powerful stuff. And it was so strong that we had plenty left; enough to last us almost a week. I called in sick the next day mostly because I didn't feel like going through the motions one must do when successfully leading a junkie's double life; I didn't want anyone asking how I was doing and I especially didn't want to take part in the boring old office chit-chat in which one must indulge to get by. I actually had a pretty good job at the time; one of the few straight gigs I ever liked: I was assistant to one of the partners of a large firm of entertainment attorneys who represented a lot of bands and solo musicians, both in the UK and in the States.

Because I typed so quickly and accurately, after the first month or two, I'd been given a nice raise and the keys to the kingdom, so to speak, and put in charge of a group of secretaries and word processors. The people were all very friendly to me and there were a lot of perks to that particular gig, especially if one was into British music as I was. But I just couldn't see myself looking anyone in the eye for awhile and since I had near-perfect attendance (this was thanks to the heroin but that's another story), nobody thought twice when I called the attorney for whom I worked and told him I wasn't coming in.

I knew he wouldn't ask me why (and he didn't); he just assumed I wasn't feeling well and said he hoped to see me tomorrow. I think I said something like 'Sure thing'. My hands were shaking throughout that two-minute phonecall and I felt total relief when we hung up. For the rest of the morning, I relaxed in bed, drinking coffee and reading the NY Times, and in the afternoon, we watched old films on TV and then at night, we had Chinese take-out delivered from this really good place and then we read far into the night. The stuff from the night before was so powerful, we didn't even have to get off again; I mean, that's how good it was. We'd bought what was known as a half-load (15 glassine bags) and it lasted us a long time. All in all, it actually turned out to be a pretty good investment, except for the part about the murder.

Sometimes I wonder about the dead dude, like who he was and what his wife must have thought and how long it took for her to panic and whether or not she reported him missing. I watched all the newpapers for a few weeks, but read nothing about what happened or any missing black guy from uptown. And we never went back to The Toilet again, no matter what we heard was going on there or how powerful their smack was, which, according to those we knew, was very strong for weeks and weeks. But my thoughts kept returning to the black guy. Most normal people might think: 'Who gives a shit about another dead junkie?' But I did; I wondered about his poor wife and if they had any kids.



Damn, he wasn't more than a kid himself. My friend told me I shouldn't dwell on things like that because they'd only get me down and as usual, he was right. But I still wonder anyway. Yep, over twenty years later – to this very day. And I wonder if I'm the only one who remembers this horror and if his wife is still alive and if his children, if he had any, turned out to be junkies like their dad.

We saw Rocky once more, a year or so later. It was on the streets of the Lower East Side and we just kind of turned our heads when we saw him round the corner off Third Avenue. And thank fuck we saw him way before he saw us so it was perfectly natural to be standing there, on St Mark's Place, looking into a punk shop window. I know he saw us because our eyes met in the reflection of the window but neither of us said anything and he didn't come up to speak to us.

Anyway, I still do my wondering but as time passes it becomes more and more unreal, as if my initial impression of watching a film was exactly what it was. My friend and I don't talk about it. We've cleaned up twice since then, always to fall back into our habits, whether we're actually feeding them or not. We clean up mostly so the next time we get high we don't need as much dope. It's our old friend, Greed again. Absolute and total greed in the wild jungles of the Lower East Side.

[nb: my friend Gordy died at the end of the 80s, having never cleaned up for the last time, as i did. this was right before I returned to University for my teaching degree. when i told him what i was up to, i asked him to come back to school with me and when he balked, i asked him to return my keys. he wouldn't. so i changed the locks and put gates on my windows, the same windows through which he'd stared that night, looking into the backyards of the buildings of East 7th Street.

a month or so later, his brother called to say he found Gordy dead, in the kitchen of their parents' house in Queens. he had OD'd but it also turned out he had pancreatitus and was HIV+ (i never took the test until years later, in 2001 and amazingly – to me, since we shared sets of works many times – I was and am alright). anyway, we'd known each other since we were 15 and in HS and been together since then, apart from about six years when we both moved Upstate NY with a group of our friends. after a month or so, he left to go back to NYC and i stayed to major in Art History at college. back to Gordy, he was brilliant and gorgeous, very funny and very well-liked. anyway, RIP, dude.]

what's playing very softly:Hardtime Killing Floor Blues* (by Skip James).

what's blasting: Bloodbath Dance* (by Crystal Method). as always, do me a solid by R-clicking and Saving to your desktop or i-Tunes before listening. y'all have no idea what Alabama 3 rarities and remixes you've missed by listening and using up my bandwidth. and that's why i rarely post any of them (the foregoing statement's to answer those who've written me, asking me why i don't post any more A3 tunes). TIA.

*03. oct: soz to say, after checking my stats, i've been forced to pull these down.

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RIP Paul Newman 1925-2008

OH NO! yet another, part of my outer world since i was a child, has left us. :-(

CNN: 'Paul Newman, the legendary actor whose steely blue eyes, good-humored charm and advocacy of worthy causes made him one of the most renowned figures in American arts, has died of cancer at his home in Westport, Connecticut. He was 83...

'...Newman attained stardom in the 1950s and never lost the movie-star aura, appearing in such classic films as "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof," "Exodus," "The Hustler," "Cool Hand Luke," "Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid," "The Sting" and "The Verdict." He finally won an Oscar in 1986 -- on his eighth try -- for "The Color of Money," a sequel to "The Hustler." He later received two more Oscar nominations. Among his other awards was the Motion Picture Academy's Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award...'



'He stumped for liberal causes, including Eugene McCarthy's 1968 presidential candidacy, and earned a spot on Richard Nixon's enemies list -- "the highest single honor I've ever received," he said...'

YOU. GO. P- ... oh wait – you've already gone. :-(

'...In 1982, Newman and his friend A.E. Hotchner founded Newman's Own, a food company that produced food ranging from pasta sauces to salad dressing to chocolate chip cookies... "The embarrassing thing is that the salad dressing is outgrossing my films," Newman once wryly noted.

'To date, the company -- which donates all profits to charities such as Newman's Hole in the Wall camps -- has given away more than $200 million. Newman established the camp to benefit gravely ill children.

"He saw the camps as places where kids could escape the fear, pain and isolation of their conditions, kick back and raise a little hell," ...'

what i admire most, apart from his theatrical and film careers:

'Newman was half of one of the most successful showbiz marriages -- to Joanne Woodward, whom he married in 1958. He observed that just because he was a sex symbol there was no reason to commit adultery'.

"You can't be as old as I am without waking up with a surprised look on your face every morning: 'Holy Christ, whaddya know - I'm still around!' It's absolutely amazing that I survived all the booze and smoking and the cars and the career."

RIP, Paul, i've admired you and your work as well as your personal life for almost as long as i've lived. if only more lived by your ethos regarding your successful marriage: "Why would I go out for a hamburger when [I] have steak at home?"

*huge sighing going on here since i learnt the bad news* i've been editing my head off and about every 5 minutes, i'll remember and kinda look off, out the windows. for once, my view doesn't distract me and i wish it would, but no.

once again, RIP Paul Newman. you're already very sadly missed.

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another message from Hunter

STFU Cun- soz, sweetikins (shut UP, Hunter), you darling well-behaved boy, you. anyway, i'm still here and thanks to everyone who mailed me before i showed up at freeA3 last night. had a lovely time at Twitter today cause i ended up doing my bit to promote Alabama 3 when this Swiss dude mentioned Brooklyn – i've spoken with him before and lord knows why he follows me but i follow him cause he's a geek and i freely admit it – yup, i'm shameless. :-( but really, in all truth, i have no idea why anybody follows me unless they're not quite sane. anyway, i copied and linked to our conversation after he said the word 'Brooklyn' cause it took a very unexpected turn. i mean, at the start, i had no idea it would become a mini-promo fest – y'all can read this below. *to self* and i actually harboured doubts; thought i was losing my touch... heh. oops, did i just say that out loud? never mind. ;-)

i actually have Chuck to thank for introducing me to Twitter last Winter, so big thanks, dude. :-) i didn't use it much at first but now? fuhgeddabbaddit *in a Tony Soprano voice*. um, before this dude's world was rocked (heh – and i'm not tawking about Chuck, i'm talking about the Swiss dude mentioned in first 'graph) here's like a short intro also cause so many i know in meatspace have asked me why i'm there and what's the attraction: basically cause it's fun and i try to learn stuff from the techies i follow and i get to talk to people and things like that. and maybe, just maybe... nah, i don't wanna ring up Sod right now. i'll be good. no, really! anyway, back to Twitter:

'Twitter is a free social networking and micro-blogging service that allows its users to send and read other users' updates (otherwise known as tweets), which are text-based posts of up to 140 characters in length...'

as usual i do it my way and call em twits for many reasons. but whoa, how could wikipedia leave out the important bit? those 140 characters are to answer one question only: What are you doing? OK, this piece here says it all up front:

'Twitter is a social networking and microblogging service that allows you to answer the question, "What are you doing?" by sending short text messages 140 characters in length, called "tweets", to your friends, or "followers."

intristin' article from the Guardian: What is Twitter and is there any reason i should care?



OK, keep in mind if you want anyone's attention, anyone following you, you begin your twit w/the @ sign before whomever's username. Swiss dude's username is nussbi and he used the word 'Brooklyn' whilst twitting away to someone else; i barged in – as is my wont – and i told him of this sign i saw last year when leaving for the airport:

@nussbi 'in taxi leaving for JFK on Belt Pkway after visiting fam-YOU ARE NOW LEAVING BROOKLYN-FUHGEDDABBADDIT (think Tony Soprano;'s accent)'

@slum_goddess 'cool, i love the sopranos!'

@nussbi 're Sopranos-i hope u dig themesong by Alabama 3; x-mgr=FAIL=no titlecard in credits; i'm on their album MOR +my name in linernotes'

me to nobody in particular about what i'm doing at the mo': 'thinking right about now, my friends are smacking the sides of their heads and going 'there she goes again...' (it's funny cuz it's true)'

@slum_goddess 'i am gonna buy their album right now, if you're on it!!! sopranos soundtrack?'

@nussbi 'album called M.O.R; i'm on a cover of a Gil Scott Heron tune called The Klan; i'm raging against KKK & i sing in 2 voices at the end'

@slum_goddess 'can i find this on amazon?'

@nussbi 'yes but i think you can get it cheapest from the label, hang on, lemme compare US & UK Amazon prices w/label price, BRB'

then some back & forth chitchat as i compared prices and learnt that yup, it's cheapest from the label.

@slum_goddess 'the pound is still way too high. gimme a second...'

@slum_goddess 'WTF? "Orders normally ship within 28 days"... ordered it though, shipping was just £2. GREAT!'

the thing of it is, this dude has like over 600 followers and is following over 2,000 (dunno how in hell they do it, actually). so like someone should do some (most prolly) easy-peasey maths and come up with how many people now know the name of the band who does the themesong, Woke Up This Morning, for The Sopranos, the most popular TV show in history.

the really great thing is now ALL following this dude know Alabama 3 do WUTM. and he bought M.O.R. AND he began Tweet for Children to which i'm gonna donate ASAP. right, he just DM'd me after i sent him a coupla links: 'fuck, the music is awesome... to sick to pray is a masterpiece!!!' (a Direct Message is something only i'm supposed to see) and here's another one: 'thank you so much and tell the band they got their first fan in switzerland now! love what they do, awesome stuff!!!'

um, y'just did, dude, and thank YOU for saying. and as i'm typing that, he just posted this for EVERYONE to see:

@slum_goddess gave me some tunes. awesome material, good i bought the CD!! i want it to arrive tomorrow!!!

@slum_goddess 'i want more of that! these guys rock. where are they live next? any concerts coming? love this sound, unique!!!'

as well as: 'Alabama 3 rocks!'

what did they used to say in TV adverts in the States? right: 'so easy, even a child could do it!' tee-hee... *cough* moving raaaght alawng all the above ain't what Hunter wanted to say. *sigh* first off, big thanks to everyone especially Highlander, Pam (not the one in Brixton; Pam in Brixton's been in Palermo! Sicily! OMFG!), Rob and Jen in the States, and all the rest (whose mails i can't find for some strange reason) for commenting on Lower East Side Story Part I. and now, take it away, Hunter. *sigh* *rolls eyes* *fidgets*




yup. i did. :-( and asshole Hunter-kitteh making me pay for mai crimez. holy shit! WTF? ARRRGGGHHH!!!!111!!! he's back!



i'm so humiliated. TOTALLY. but Lower East Side Story Pt II shall be up ASAP, KTHXBAI!

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exile on Bellevue - the years have not been kind

HA-ha *in a Nelson Muntz voice* i lied – the past SEVEN years have been unimagineably kind especially the last 4+ years in England; i'm tawkin about seven *gasp* – 'unbe-fuckin-lievable!' – mostly fabaroo years since we flew the coop leaving the post-9/11 madness of NYC and the nasty rude people, dirt, crowds, noise, ageists and the like – leaving em all behind us. and since i've been up, awake and talking my head off for the past few nights and at this point, can hardly think straight, much less make any sense, i'm gonna plagiarise myself from my post of a year back: escape from NY (6 years later).

well, at least i thought i was gonna do the ol' copy 'n' paste dance but it seems Time's not on my side (and hasn't been for ages and ages) but this isn't the place and anyway, all i have time to say is 'Time, yer a BASTARD!' and quickly move on. right, if anyone's interested, i left a comment on above LOLCat at bottom of page here. and to those who like, don't unnerstand that which lit-tle LOL cat's on about, bastard time doesn't permit me to tell the backstory now, something that resulted in me getting my own page in Wikipedia, empty though it is. *snigger* (taken from M.O.R), where Somebody thought it a hoot to mash-up Delta Slide Dude's then-current 'Shut it, Yank' with my name (empty threats as i've been saying this same old shit for just about a year). and right about now, everyone i know's going 'WHEW! saved! for once!' hahaha, my poor friends... having to sit through endless retellings of what Dave called 'every fan's dream'. (time-stamped links to come, if i can be arsed to find em).


whoa, what was that? did someone say sump'n? OK, typical – there's no time now cause as is my/our/his wont, Freebase is ready to go to work and it's about damn time. actually, i'm kidding about the work bit. it's allll fun and games with him. hmmpf...



more to come as soon as i can get my shit together – wait, no jokes please – it's been a problem all my life and i'm only using it as a figure of speech cause if y'all really waited for me to get my shit together... hang on – what the HELL am i tawkin about? right, i'm so far down one of the tangents which were spawned from the original ADD Road, i'm now lost myself. lovely. not. |-(

that's actually one of the most stupid questions i've ever asked cause it's easy peasey with distractions galore going on like all kindsa noise-making and near electrocutions since some think chewing on wires is the shit. we could've had Southwestern British Fried Kitteh for dinner the other night and i was so angry, potential meal went missing, up above my head, in the kitchen.



all this excitement whilst the band played on. Special Edition Jack Daniel's Strat thanks to the generosity of Seany Lynch. *blows kisses in the general direction of Dublin* :-)




anyway, between the threeya them, i totally forgot it's celebration time and not only due to seven expatriated years. *to self* OK, get him outta work mode and off my damn back; i need a hint the size of Thor's hammer to get him into the back room to crash so i can dig up a few photos upon which the Lawd bestowed approval and i'll post em up here as soon as i can get him outta work mode – BOOR-RING! – and outta my line of sight so i won't feel like strangling him. oopsy, i mean so i can feel comfy enough to get into my PJs (the ones with the Sex Pistols T-shirt Dragnim's bro' Rob got me last year) and keep on bullshi- writing.

BTW, i already snoop- peeked into Mark's bag and saw those jammies again, the ones with cowboys on that he wore on the tourbus. i took a closer look and they're SO cute, with liddle bucking broncos trying to get tiny Texans off their backs. some of the teeny tiny cowboys had YEE-HAAAH! coming out of their mouths in shouty comicbook talk balloons and some were actually holding onto their cute liddle Stetsons as they were being all bucked and bronc'd.

how do i know this from only a quick peek into his bag? well, last year on the tourbus when i went down the narrow aisle to the loo, i kinda like whispered 'Mark?' as i passed his bunk. not getting any reply, i looked in (of course; i mean, i had to see if he was alright – anyone would've done the same). there he was, sleeping like a baby, all cute and shit in the jammies with the cowboys on. anyway, i'll BRB in a relatively quick manner and somehow, find my way back to the real reason for this nonse- post, celebrating SEVEN YEARS AWAY FROM BU$HCo and his fear mongering cronies, hoorah!

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the good: site news, the bad: FAIL! the ugly: we'll return to that. maybe.

first the bad / the ri-moan: like almost everything else, i do all my bank stuff online and apart from the Barclays Bank website being the most moronically designed, unusable site i've ever had the misfortune to be forced to use, about six months ago, they introduced a stupid widget: a so-called PIN Sentry card reader for 'extra security'.



the thing of it is, i never had a problem with their easy-peasey prior security precautions especially when using Firefox (which i immediately made my default browser, taking the place of Safari).

now apart from totally trusting the addressbar (which FF turns yellow to indicate you're secure when one's on a site asking for personal info), the former security precautions involved choosing a special word; they'd ask you for the 2nd and 6th letter or whatever two letters they'd require and bingo, you were in and did your stuff. since the piecacrap above was introduced, i've had nothing but trouble with it. OK, not exactly true: i have no trouble inserting the card, keying in my PIN, receiving the totally unnecessary message: 'PIN Correct' (duh!) and then the tiny screen spits out some random 8-digit code you're then expected to type in the proper fields on the page. i imagine that's to make sure you're really you. OK, fine; they're being extra vigilant or something.



but lately, i've done the above only to get a message stating that my details don't match up. i'm all WTF? they've already told me my PIN's correct and i – very – carefully copy the 8 digits shown in the card-reader, copy em into the proper fields only to hit the (first) roadblock. OK, here's the needless 'welcome' page where one logs in. i say 'needless' cause i hit 'log in' only to find the next page which, AFAIC, is a time-waster as it's marked 'Step 1 of 2'. granted, your personal details are remembered but all that stuff could've been on any prior page saving youse (ME) precious time.

anyway, please bear with me and this mind-numbing shite, especially if you bank with Barclays cause i haven't yet gotten to the good stuff. OK, you're forced to click yet again to get to the Step 2 of 2 page. hoorah! now we're making progress (i once thought).

enough of this detailed fuckwittery. long story short – i kept getting error messages telling me i'd clicked twice or clicked the back button, which i most certainly did not. found their 'contact us' page and after more needless info-gathering including my sort code – WTF & WHY? (to check out how much money you've got in order to determine the degree of respect in their answer?) – i used their drop-down menu to register a complaint (and chose 'complaint' from their list of reasons for the comm). after i clicked 'submit' i got an ack, IDing itself as an autobot and marking my submission as a compliment.

OK, maybe their thinking runs along the lines of whomever takes the time to complain is a compliment, but whatever, no biggie; then i was told a live human would be getting back to me 'shortly'.



here's their mail copied in toto which i pasted in italics for ease of readability and such. emphasis and commentary are mine, of course. i can't help but think 'This will not stand' but i refuse to expand upon that now.

'Subject: Re: compliment - Online Banking'

a WHAT? a COMPLIMENT? yeah, sure, whatever.

'Thank you for your email dated 17/9/08'.

they won't be thanking me when i'm done with them. |-(

'If you are logging in in the early hours of the morning you may have a problem as the branch update during this time and you will not be able to access your account while the update is taking place'.

*shouty* 'IF I'M LOGGING IN, IN THE EARLY HOURS OF THE MORNING'? you motherless fucks, that's when i do everything – as i said in my first two letters of complaint – which you also assholedly marked as 'compliments' – but this was the first time a human got back to me.

'The update takes approximately thirty minutes per sort code and takes place any time from late evening to the early hours of the morning'.

wouldn't it have been a demonstration of courtesy if above info was coded into your worthless introductory pages? SO PEOPLE LIKE ME – NIGHT PEOPLE – WOULD KNOW NOT TO BOTHER AND WASTE THEIR DAMN TIME TRYING TO ACCESS THEIR ACCOUNTS AT THOSE HOURS?

'As the branches download as, and when, a connection becomes available it is not possible to pre-advise customers when the full service is not available and we apologise for any inconvenience caused'.

see comment directly above. as well, you can take your worthless apology and shove it up yer fat asses.

'Yours sincerely,

Ms Wage Slave, Barclays Online Banking'

what they don't know is i've already checked out *name of competing bank* and tomorrow morning i'm to close out my Barclays account for many reasons, including the above. assholes.



excellent fact i learnt from Freebase: the word 'meme' was coined by Richard Dawkins. me: 'I did not know that' (the foregoing went over his head but i dint bother explaining). however, and i couldn't say why, this pleases me and very much so: partly cause Unka Fweebase said (but stupid me had to go check even though AFAIC he's always been right) and partly cause Richard Dawkins was on my list of heroes on my real site for ages (L-hand column here).

speaking of Hisself, here's one of my latest of Mark, taken here yesterday:



moving very swiftly along, the good bit is site news. if anyone has the stamina, tenacity and stomach to follow this and all my way too detailed Asperger'd ADD-led musings (read: reports on the tiniest of personal minutiae), these persons already know i announce like practically everything in my life here cause it's my journal and for the thousandth time, NO! i don't give a flying fuck if anyone else reads it. keeping that in mind, wait – i'm being paged or something (read: MS Freebase's getting WAY pissed off cause we're not out the door but believe it or not, this ends on a happy note – well, happy for me). :-)

*ignoring Mark* first off, i changed the 'about the godless' bit to clarify, especially for the American lackwits who thought the state of Georgia was being invaded by Russia. secondly i added to Fave Films, but most important: thirdly, since i'm actually reading again, i added the latest titles to 'fave books' on my profile page; those given me by Chuck, Stevie (Librarian of Love), Jem and Euripidean. thanks, again, dudes. :-)

and now we get to 'the ugly' but that'll have to wait for the nonce. happy weekend, y'all. i'm sick of saying 'be kind to each other', not only cause i think it's fruitless but due to the fact i really couldn't care less if y'all go out and engage in knock-down drag-out fistfights with whomever in whichever country you live. in fact, i'd love to be watching if this happens (beginning with my guest here, someone whom i've been dying to beat the shit outta since he's been promising me to get his ass over for months already (for biz reasons, all to his advantage). his excuses were always lame and had to do with his job, like gigging and festies and such.

and so, in closing, have a whatever youse wanna weekend. and please ring me ASAP if there be any fighting, something which i'd love to see (and ideally, take part in). :-)

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now this is a thing of beauty

sent me by Christine in mail with subjectline 'now this is a thing of beauty' and AFAIC, she's totally right. i've been so busy i've neglected most of my correspondence especially after last weekend's Bathcamp and Chris switching keyboards in the hopes it'd cut down the wear and tear on my inexplicably hot-running machine, something i call 'running in overdrive'. well, guess what? it din't; i'm still running too hot and got rid of the CPU widget on my Dashboard as it caused me too much anxiety.

but Christine knows exactly how to calm me down and since we're both animal lovers, well... just gazing at her photos certainly did lull me just short of my usual stupor – and wonder of wonders, it's all drug-free; totally amazing to me. plus more good stuff: they made me momentarily forget the fact it took me 12 hours using the flatboard for which Chris swapped my ergonomic 'board; took me 12 hours to do what usually takes two hours' time when i'm on my badly missed keyboard (the one about which everyone always complained). OK, these are just lovely and presented in chronological order:














awwww... especially this last with doggy and deer is SO cute and touching, so much so it actually warmed the icy-like cockles of my barely beating cold cold heart (but only for like a moment or so, as long as my gaze is fixed on this series). i've had my own experiences with deer – the up close and personal kind – when i lived in a storybook style cottage on Leggett Road on the edge of the woods in upstate NY outside a tiny town called Stone Ridge but that was in another lifetime. as well, it took about three weeks for the deer to show themselves close enough to come up to us and eat out of my hands.

i'd hear them at night and take my then-kitty Leemo in my arms and we'd quietly sneak out round the back of my place and stand still as statues until the deer noticed us. and then it was just a matter of time cause we did this every night and every time, just about sunrise, they came closer and closer until success! Baby Fawn and Mama deer came up the moment we emerged from the cottage and ate straight from my hands after i placed Leemo at my feet. he was fascinated and stayed still with his eyes wide and sparkling as he watched us like communing or whatever. from the next night forward, the entire deer family including Dad walked straight up to us and at one point i caught Leemo nosing around Daddy's hooves which caused the dad to lean down and nuzzle Leemo, and that continued for the rest of the Summer.

please keep em coming, Christine, as i'm in dire need of a lot of calming and soothing these days. thanks again, Chris. *love*

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LES Story Pt II ASAP

yes, lit-tle kitteh, the rest of Lower East Side Story'll be up ASAP. 'You have my word as a writer'.

*snigger* kidding! VERY poor joke on too many levels. anyway, i stoled that quote from a Jose Chung episode on the way sorely missed MillenniuM TV series. but thanks to it taking an age to type a single sentence, i've no time to do anything now apart from thanking those who've written to me over the past week or so, asking me to post Part II.



don't worry, there'll be no spoilers; the entire horrendous story was spoilt before it began, both on the page and in TRW, by making my own fucked up life choices too long ago, choices for which i take full responsibility and thank fuckity fuck, most of which are no longer extant and for many years already.

and now back to work... iz bad, i'ze hungry and flat keyboard's taking too much time on which to type properly. but there might be hope, thanks to Pam sending me links this afternoon, i think i've found a lovely ergonomic substitute, so thank you Pam. please wish me luck, y'all, cause i'm willing to pay extra postage charges for it to arrive the very next day – i'm not being paid enough to spend so much time on this bullshit proofreading and the occasional editing (which's far more interesting AFAIC, due to the fact that my boss' idea of editing is basically me re-writing the entire piece, no matter upon whatever subject). and i don't dare quit, dammit to hell – FUCK!

don't mind me cursing; it's just the frustration. or mind, whatever... see if i care. anyway, be kind to each other – peace out, yo. :-)

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i can haz err- urgo- ergonomic back?

cautionary warning: this entire post is me whinging away like almost non-stop. but yeah, i'm back here again and rather unexpectedly. i'm sitting here, proofreading whilst collecting mai impresshuns and links on teh weekend at Bathcamp and akshually having dese positive thoughts! AFAIC, iz mayzng, RLY. speshly to ppl dat noes me as being all Ann Hedonik cause liek we all noes i'ze lucky to be prufreeder cuz teh Assburgers – ugh, nah, teh Asperger's maeks me reely gud at noticing liddle details and such, liek teh ability to scan down manuscript pages or those of indicia and any changes – no matter how small – will practically jump out at me (as do misspellings, typos or whatever else that virtually scream out FAIL).



this super kitteh power – soz, i mean 'capability' – has been with me for most of my life. but switching from my beloved old keyboard to the flat one has totally slowed me down, so much so that i might as well be reading each and every word. which i wouldn't mind but most of my jobs for today have been BOOR-RING! *in a Homer voice* and taken so much time, i dare not even open my mail client or look at Twitter or even play with Hunter cause i know i'll get totally lost and time'll fly by and before i know it the sun'll be coming up. oh wait. it is...

i could've screamed before, about 04,30 when i heard an unfamiliar sound coming from the kitchen and actually found Hunter in a position very similar to this cause when i pull all-nighters, i make sure he gets his playtime and whatever the weather, i take him out on the balcony. but i didn't tonight cause i've been too busy correcting my own work. anyway, i went to investigate and found him hanging upside down from the inside of the open window, about ten feet up and i immediately thought of attention whore kitteh and his subtle way of rebellion when he doesn't have his playtime.



after i climbed up and removed him (all the while praying that during the time it took me to get the ladder, it wouldn't dawn on him that escape was only a bodyflip away) so since then, i've been working away, like the proverbial busy bee hitting wrong keys and making typos left and right (with one eye on Bad Kitteh). anyway, is this how regular people type, like? cause it's a new experience for me and so time consuming it's pathetic as well as cutting down any multitasking skillz i might've once used to my advantage and about which i was so proud. hmmpf... looks like my hubris has just about bitten me on the ass.



up until yesterday, working was fun cause i'd be Twitting away, talking to whomever on Skype or IM, scouring the 'Net for more guerilla promo and music biz models to add to my collection for this project which i hope will come to fruition as soon as one of the dudes in question finalises a meatspace meet.

but just thinking about it got me all excited and den i maekded mistake of hitting the wrong key, the one minimising my open windows – wuz a Naccident! RLY! cuz i'ze TTLY not accustomed to a flat keyboard and apart from slowing my typing speed down, i keep fucking up and the worst bit is, i'm not used to seeing all my windows fly offscreen, leaving my desktop exposed. and i'd been hard at work for like two, three hours already and anyway, after my windows flew off to the borders the first time, i couldn't help but notice above .jpg just sitting on my desktop patiently waiting and suddenly realised this was a perfect opportunity to take my first break, clicked the pic and thought of myself of course. BTW, i'm tawkin about the one on top, leading this post.

so i took my first break, and if taking a break at fuck o'clock in the AM is doing a bad thing (and in some circles, it is), at that point i didn't give a shit so i made another pot of coffee, avoided Twitter (since once i check in, i can never leave). no, not like that band Jeffrey Lebowski, Chris and i can't stand, but more like Roach Motels.

i have no idea if they even have them here in the UK. anyway, since speaking to Chris before he took off, i'm having real doubts cause he's trying to convince me to get an iPhone instead of the iTouch i should be receiving shortly but not having an addictive personality or whatever and not being in love with Twitter, i don't think he understands the negative implications of me being online 24/7. hang on, gotta Google to find this crucial info on whether or not they have Roach Motels in the UK. nope, just like rabies, doesn't look like they do.

moving right along, i decided to take my liddle coffee break whilst easing the anxiety of not catching up on twits and not chexing mai mailz by messing about here.


during which time i sent this next to teh LOLcat haters i know (all of whom i call my friends).


and despite the message, i wannit anyway. a bit of the description from here reads '...A 100% cotton, black t-shirt features a pile of dead, white kittens in a little puddle of adorable blood with the caption, "Every time you Can Has, God kills a LOLcat."...'

OK, one more reference to today's biggest ri-moan and then it's back to work: since i must take my Mac into the shop for things like the damn disc drive and the fact the fan's running hot or whatever, Chris tried all sorts of things before we, rather he swapped out my old, filthy, verily missed and beloved ergonomic keyboard for a flatboard stashed in the storage room for years now and (i think) never used. welp, i'm typing on this really beautiful silver and black Apple 'board:



so let me reiterate (read: pity me cause it's taken all this time to get back to the point and my moan) but the thing of it is, I (STILL) CAN'T TYPE, DAMMIT! i mean, it's obvious i'm typing but i'm making mistakes up the wazoo and it's taking an age to finish my work and I. DON'T. LIKE. IT. now i'm up to almost six full mugs of coffee to type this short writty and i wanted to do my impressions of Bathcamp and all, but most of them would be stream of unconsciousness plus transcribing my notes off my Palm and it's taken me far too long getting used to this 'board and the keys act weird and-and... and... waaaah! *sobs* i'm SO gonna research new ergonomic boards (if i can find any) cause i totally can't do without mine (see post above or here). *sniffle*

and NAO IZ BAKC TO WURK TIEM. first sum curridge of chemical sortz. den i nomz. den i get reddy to go 'O Chriii-isssss... '



y'know why? cause the fan's still in overdrive and somehow it's your fault i'm working on this same damn job for over 12 hours already. it's SO bad that i, myself, attempted to move the damn desk and replug in my old board as i crawled around underneath for almost twenty minutes with Hunter perched on my ass.



'Nothing ever changes'. bah... |-(

ps, the thing of it is, i almost missed my goddamned deadline (the first one and it would've been a first if i did) but at this point iin time, it doesn't matter cause i'm ready to quit. but the punchline is two-fold: i hadda call in to PDSA today and tell em i wouldn't be doing my volunteer time but worse than that, i finished this very disjointed post like over 12 hours ago and just realised i forgot to hit 'publish'... typical! :-(

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birthday barrage & then some

above pic's the (partial) cover of the latest of my birthday presents in what i can only term a barrage (not a complaint) so THANK YOU, CHUCK (not only for the Hunter book but) FOR EVERYTHING. this like, parade of presents has been going on since the day before Hiroshima Day (a day of pride in my country's history which happens to be the same day as my b-day but happened a few years earlier). anyway, the first present to reach me this year was my mother's annual cheque, something i usually stick on the magnet board in the kitchen (but i took em all off last week and deposited my 5 years' collection of Cheques From Iron Mommy into my Savings, rather, my Day To Day account).

the thing of it is, the second after i threw above gift (which appeared in a cardboard box from UK Amazon) into my travelbag (unopened) i totally forgot i had it cause since the start of august i'd been ordering my ass off, trying to ward off (more) depression by buying myself a shitload of DVDs – let's call em self-inflicted presents. WTF & WHY? beats me; maybe cause i could? dunno and in all truth, i never questioned this.

anyway, on saturday AM, on the way out to Temple Meads Station and Bath Camp with Chris (and in our usual hurry since we're ALWAYS late; an unfortunate given whether alone or together) there's this package from Amazon waiting for me with the rest of saturday's post downstairs. being in our usual hurry uppity mode, i assumed it was a DVD i'd ordered and threw it into my overnight bag and then immediately forgot it since there was no reason to open my travelbag the entire time we were in Bath. right, more about Bath Camp – the best decision i'd made (actually, the best thing Chris has turned me onto) in ages is coming up in another post ASAP. but for now, the description on this page here, where i signed on, should do.

moving right along, one of the few things i share with the stereotypical Brit (or so i've read in various places) is a strong sense of fairness so heres's a cautionary warning––> ADD tangent's coming right up: whether before or after we met in meatspace and whether together or as we are now – not – being late is exactly what i said above: for us, it's a given. no, wait – my exact words were 'an unfortunate given'. :-(

OK, yet another tangent on the old ADD trail: i had no reason to open my bag and open the Amazon box cause we didn't use the hotelroom we booked for ourselves. oh yeah, we stupidly taxi'd it over to the other side of Bath to check in but we left Bath Camp early taking one of the last trains to Bristol on saturday night / early sunday morning (don't recall the reason why but for once it wasn't an argument; however i do remember it was in mutual agreement). damn you, Senility! |-(

holy hell, just noticed the time and checking my Palm, 'remembered' i have some proofreading due in at 11,00 later on today so i'm gonna cut this short but not before a bit of my usual whinging. *to self* hmmm, maybe if i begin another site, just for the purpose of letting off steam, sump'n called 'The Daily Ri-Moan' or better yet, 'My Daily Ri-Moan' ('teh daily ri-moan'? 'ri-moan for teh day'? 'rimone's ri-moans'? STOPPIT!) *cough* anyway, if i just list them all, get em out of the way – somewhere else – maybe, just maybe i'd be better able to stay on-topic here. maybe.

a few seconds of de£iberation tell$ me to quit with this shit and begin with the proofreading, so BRB (if 'right' is taken to mean relatively soon which it's usually not AFAIC – never was and prolly never shall be, un-fuckin-fortunately). BTW, if i dint have to get real work over and done with, tonight's whinge has a LOT to do with how my actual desktop looks. helpful hint: i no longer see this next right in front of me and my two wristrests (please check pic at prior link) mainly cause it ain't any more. *sobs*



the only good thing i can think of as a result of the above now resting on the sofa: i shall no longer be forced to use white-out to paint the proper letters on the wellworn keys during those rare times others visit and wanna use my Mac to chex ther mailz. i'm so pissed off at this cause like the idiot i am, i've been totally in love with my ergonomic 'board ever since first using one way back in 2000. i wouldn't give so much of a shit if they still made the exact same model but, of course, they don't. anyway, BRB or whatever whenever.

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