If some of ya'll never been down South too much...
I'm gonna tell you a little bit about this, so that you'll understand
What I'm talking about
Down there we have a plant that grows out in the woods and the fields,
Looks somethin' like a turnip green.
Everybody calls it Polk salad.
Polk salad. Used to know a girl that lived down there
and she'd go out in the evenings and pick a mess of it...
Carry it home and cook it for supper,
'cause that's about all they had to eat,
But they did all right....
"Keith, you ever eat any polk salad?"
"Vee, I ain't ever had any-don't even know what in the hell it is! What made you ask me that? You're not gettin' delusional on me again, are you?"
"Nah, I'm o.k. I'm just sittin' here in my top bunk reflecting. And polk salad popped in me head."
"Get some sleep. Me and Miss June would like some privacy, if you don't mind."
"I wondered why you took your hankerchief to bed. Too bad we aren't at the Central Adult Theatre. Watching 'The Lustful Turk.' Now that was cinema verite, eh?"
"Man, that county fair tonite was a blast! Ain't nothing like the one in the big city."
"Yeah, I never saw nothin' like it. All those young girls came struttin' out of nowhere in their birthday suits. Squattin' down in front of us and showing us everything they got."
"Too bad we didn't bring flashlights like those other guys. And they [ the girls ] didn't cotton to the zippos-kept blowin' 'em out."
"Yeah, a zippo could catch a bush on fire. You can't blame 'em."
"How do you think the elections will play out?"
"I think Ted Kennedy will win again even tho he left Mary Jo to die."
"Nah, not that one. The Iraqi elections?"
"What Iraqi elections. Sadam Hussein will never be ousted."
"Maybe it was a dream then. Yes, it was. I dreamed it was 2005 and Iraqi's were exercising their right to vote. And Iraq was becoming a republic, er, democracy. And the prez of the U.S. was Bush Jr."
"Bush? You gotta quit going to the fair and fantasizing about all those girls with the flashlights and zippos."
"Keith, you think there were any homos at Rowdy High?"
"Huh? Well, maybe one or two! You sure you're o.k.? I could call the medic again."
"Do you think homos choose to be that way or is it genetic? Or it just happens?"
"Never gave it much thought cos I'm a red-blooded heterosexual. Hey, me and Miss June-we want to be alone. Go to sleep."
"My mom found my Playboys a coppola years ago, discreetly-or so I thought-tucked away in my drawers at home. I remember it well: 'Well, my son smokes, drinks, and now he looks at Playboy Magazine.' Maybe she was relieved to know I wasn't a homo."
"Go to sleep."
"Remember that stag film we saw?"
"The one with the hippie guy with the large prick? Damn thing shriveled up to nothing when he blew his load."
"I was thinking about the one where those two chicks were gettin' it on."
"Yeah, that was hot."
"How come guys like to see hot chicks doing the wild thang? You think girls want to see two guys gettin' it on?"
"Hell, no!"
"Keith, you think we'll ever get laid at Truck U.?"
"Nah. Me and Sue are waiting til we get married. But if the situation presents itself and Sue relents well....Hey, where you going?"
"Something popped up. Now where'd I put that Playboy and handkerchief? What'd you do with the vaseline?"
"Uh, here you go. I borrowed it. Let's go to Bubba's Friday night."
"Yeah! Sounds good. Drown our sorrows. G'nite."
"G'nite."
"Keith?"
"Yeah! WHAT IS IT NOW?"
"What though the radiance which was once so bright
Be now for ever taken from my sight,
Though nothing can bring back the hour
Of splendour in the grass.
Of glory in the flower;
We will grieve not, rather find
Strength in what remains behind;
In the primal sympathy
Which having been must ever be;
In the soothing thoughts that spring
Out of human suffering;
In the faith that looks through death,
In years that bring the philosophic mind."
"Vee, I'm calling the doctor."
"I'm okay, Keith. Continue your tryst with Miss June. G'nite, dude."
Down in Louisiana
Where the alligators grow so mean
There lived a girl that I swear to the world
Made the alligators look tame
Polk salad Annie
polk salad Annie
Everybody said it was a shame
Cause her mama was working on the chain-gang (a mean, vicious woman) ....
Sunday, January 30, 2005
Thursday, January 27, 2005
Monday, January 24, 2005
A Godsend
The Pond has been mired in the depths of dinosaurdom when it comes to computer access. Maybe it goes hand in hand with my being a relic from the Pleistocene Age in other regards as well. I still enjoy listening to the Fab 4 [ chronicled many a time in these forays ] and watching the old classic movies from yesteryear. [ ditto ]
And on our cable service you can watch free movies. I am currently perusing memory lane by watching "Bye, Bye Birdie." Adapted from a Broadway play back in the day. It was a tossup between Birdie or "Bridge on the River Kwai" but we opted for the former. Why? Because it stars one of me favourite femme fatales, the red-haired Ann Margaret. Always had a thing for red heads sans freckles, of course. It also stars Janet Leigh from "Psycho" fame who just recently passed away in 04. Her hair is coal black in this one. Hitchcock always had a thing for blondes. The proof in the pudding: Eva Marie Saint, Kim Novak, Vera Miles, Grace Kelley, Tippi Hedron, and Janet just to name a few.
Birdie is a spoof on Elvis' induction into the army. Seems I had the soundtrack as a kid. It's a good bet cos I recall most of the lyrics.
But let's get into the meat and potatoes portion of my tale. The Pond now has hi-speed internet connection. Why didn't we do this earlier? Click and voila. It don't get no better. Switching from one liberal forum to another in nano seconds is unbelievable. Which allows me to keep up- to-speed on the current Bush-bashing.
Well, even tho the Pond is still living his Cro-Magnon days in pterodactyl splendor, new advances have come along to pique him out of the doldrums. Liberals. Peck away. There is more time now on the Pond.
farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. And Farewell and adieu to Johnny Carson. On your way up to the pearly gates, don't forget to take the fork in the road.
P.S.S. Everything is Kitty, er, Rosie.
And on our cable service you can watch free movies. I am currently perusing memory lane by watching "Bye, Bye Birdie." Adapted from a Broadway play back in the day. It was a tossup between Birdie or "Bridge on the River Kwai" but we opted for the former. Why? Because it stars one of me favourite femme fatales, the red-haired Ann Margaret. Always had a thing for red heads sans freckles, of course. It also stars Janet Leigh from "Psycho" fame who just recently passed away in 04. Her hair is coal black in this one. Hitchcock always had a thing for blondes. The proof in the pudding: Eva Marie Saint, Kim Novak, Vera Miles, Grace Kelley, Tippi Hedron, and Janet just to name a few.
Birdie is a spoof on Elvis' induction into the army. Seems I had the soundtrack as a kid. It's a good bet cos I recall most of the lyrics.
But let's get into the meat and potatoes portion of my tale. The Pond now has hi-speed internet connection. Why didn't we do this earlier? Click and voila. It don't get no better. Switching from one liberal forum to another in nano seconds is unbelievable. Which allows me to keep up- to-speed on the current Bush-bashing.
Well, even tho the Pond is still living his Cro-Magnon days in pterodactyl splendor, new advances have come along to pique him out of the doldrums. Liberals. Peck away. There is more time now on the Pond.
farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. And Farewell and adieu to Johnny Carson. On your way up to the pearly gates, don't forget to take the fork in the road.
P.S.S. Everything is Kitty, er, Rosie.
Saturday, January 22, 2005
Thank God for Global Warming!
The weather outside is frightful
But inside it's so delightful.
Bangor, Maine is reporting temps of 29 below. Thank goodness for global warming. Or the poor souls of the northeast corner would REALLY be freezing their asses off. And the rest of the northeast is under a winter weather advisory. Must be an aberration, eh? Shirley, by next week, the world will return to normal and the polar icecaps will continue to melt as they make their assaults on Mother Earth.
Is it too late to swear in John Kerry? I-among others including Senator Boxer-demand a recount. Those poor disenfranchised voters who had to wait in long lines. And who had to give up the fight because their asses were cold, er,their legs hurt.
Damn, CBS, er, Fox news is showing the blizzard conditions in New York City. 3 feet of snow is expected. And Cleveland, Ohio, home to some of the d.v's. Snowing like crazy. "Nasty, nasty night" in Philadelphia claims the savvy Fox reporter doing an on-location "live" report. 16 degrees is expected at game time for tomorrow's NFL showdown.
In fact, the weather is "The Big Story" on Fox. And it's bad in Washington, D.C. as well. Thank goodness for global warming. Can you imagine the mess we'd be in tonite without it? I shudder [ pun unintended ] to think of the implications.
Uh oh. Here comes the obligatory "don't go out unless you have to." They've got to be kidding. Only an idiot would travel those roads. And idiots don't pay heed to advisories so what's the point.
Global warming? Thank you oh omnipotent force. And may its force be with you. As your freezing your asses off.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. Opting to go and get in my warm bed instead of engaging in postscripts, so's I'll have some ass left.
But inside it's so delightful.
Bangor, Maine is reporting temps of 29 below. Thank goodness for global warming. Or the poor souls of the northeast corner would REALLY be freezing their asses off. And the rest of the northeast is under a winter weather advisory. Must be an aberration, eh? Shirley, by next week, the world will return to normal and the polar icecaps will continue to melt as they make their assaults on Mother Earth.
Is it too late to swear in John Kerry? I-among others including Senator Boxer-demand a recount. Those poor disenfranchised voters who had to wait in long lines. And who had to give up the fight because their asses were cold, er,their legs hurt.
Damn, CBS, er, Fox news is showing the blizzard conditions in New York City. 3 feet of snow is expected. And Cleveland, Ohio, home to some of the d.v's. Snowing like crazy. "Nasty, nasty night" in Philadelphia claims the savvy Fox reporter doing an on-location "live" report. 16 degrees is expected at game time for tomorrow's NFL showdown.
In fact, the weather is "The Big Story" on Fox. And it's bad in Washington, D.C. as well. Thank goodness for global warming. Can you imagine the mess we'd be in tonite without it? I shudder [ pun unintended ] to think of the implications.
Uh oh. Here comes the obligatory "don't go out unless you have to." They've got to be kidding. Only an idiot would travel those roads. And idiots don't pay heed to advisories so what's the point.
Global warming? Thank you oh omnipotent force. And may its force be with you. As your freezing your asses off.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. Opting to go and get in my warm bed instead of engaging in postscripts, so's I'll have some ass left.
Friday, January 21, 2005
The Engaged Kitty
I have an unquenchable thirst for celluloid. My profile page includes many movies. I like all kinds. From sci-fi to comedy to drama to romance to et al. But the new computer-animated stuff reeks. Caveat Empty, er, Emptor. [ Yes, I once studied latin.
And I have a gift for remembering trivia from the Hollywood blockbusters. Actually, it's really a curse because it clutters the mind, if you know what I mean. Cos the important stuff sometimes falls by the wayside.
I can view a movie and recognize old character actors such as Jay C. Flippen, Harvey Lembeck, Murray Hamilton just to name a few. Not sure why but I have always viewed the opening and ending credits with a passion. Wanting to know the co-stars, the person behind the music, the director, the producers, the assistants to the stars, etc.
Kitty, my wife, has always liked going to the movies. And she's got to have some popcorn. And a diet coke. Why is it that women's choice of drink is always diet, while us he-men types go with the shuga. Go figga!
Some of Kitty's favorite flicks are "You've Got Mail" and "Pretty Woman." She can watch them over and over and over. Romantic comedies, eh?
Her latest obsession is "Fifty First Dates" with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler. A funny movie. Rob Schneider is hilarious as one of the co-stars. Kitty has already watched it 8 times and wants to get an HBO schedule so she can watch it over and over. Why not buy the thing, darling? And obsess your heart away.
But it's late. And Kitty-for all her endearing qualities-has burnt the cornbread in the micro wave. And ooh that smell-putrid does it an injustice-is wreaking havoc on my finely-tuned sense of smell. And Shirley there's a good flick on TCM or HBO.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. They don't make 'em like they used to.
And I have a gift for remembering trivia from the Hollywood blockbusters. Actually, it's really a curse because it clutters the mind, if you know what I mean. Cos the important stuff sometimes falls by the wayside.
I can view a movie and recognize old character actors such as Jay C. Flippen, Harvey Lembeck, Murray Hamilton just to name a few. Not sure why but I have always viewed the opening and ending credits with a passion. Wanting to know the co-stars, the person behind the music, the director, the producers, the assistants to the stars, etc.
Kitty, my wife, has always liked going to the movies. And she's got to have some popcorn. And a diet coke. Why is it that women's choice of drink is always diet, while us he-men types go with the shuga. Go figga!
Some of Kitty's favorite flicks are "You've Got Mail" and "Pretty Woman." She can watch them over and over and over. Romantic comedies, eh?
Her latest obsession is "Fifty First Dates" with Drew Barrymore and Adam Sandler. A funny movie. Rob Schneider is hilarious as one of the co-stars. Kitty has already watched it 8 times and wants to get an HBO schedule so she can watch it over and over. Why not buy the thing, darling? And obsess your heart away.
But it's late. And Kitty-for all her endearing qualities-has burnt the cornbread in the micro wave. And ooh that smell-putrid does it an injustice-is wreaking havoc on my finely-tuned sense of smell. And Shirley there's a good flick on TCM or HBO.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. They don't make 'em like they used to.
Truck U Revisited
I am enjoying my Truck U. forays. It has been fun and helps me relive the past. And a part of my life that is a long time gone. A tip of the cap to Crosby, Stills, and Nash.
But its publish or perish time as the Pond has lay dormant for a few days now. Got to crank it back up. And where to begin?
The inauguration? Condaleeza Rice? John Kerry? Ali, my liberal sister? Senator Boxer? Global warming? Bogus Bob?
Nah, I'm too tired from being involved in another Rowdy Kids Nite at my employment venue, H.W.
And, tho parting is such sweet sorrow,
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
But its publish or perish time as the Pond has lay dormant for a few days now. Got to crank it back up. And where to begin?
The inauguration? Condaleeza Rice? John Kerry? Ali, my liberal sister? Senator Boxer? Global warming? Bogus Bob?
Nah, I'm too tired from being involved in another Rowdy Kids Nite at my employment venue, H.W.
And, tho parting is such sweet sorrow,
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
Monday, January 17, 2005
Truck U. 4
We skipped the light fandango turned cartwheels 'cross the floor
I was feeling kinda seasick but the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drinkthe waiter brought a tray....
I had received my classes for the first quarter. A full load. And in hindsight-er, 20 or so years later-methinks it would have been better to have been a little less ambitious. I was a stranger in a strange land. Should have taken basket weaving 101 or remedial English where the subject matter consisted of "See Jane run." And "See Dick run." But, alas, hindsight is 20/20.
I ambled up to one of the desks to choose my p.e. assignment- physical education for the uninformed. Truck U. offered scuba diving, bowling, archery, volleyball, etc. Hey, this will be fun. I liked to bowl and scuba diving sounded intriguing so my choices had been narrowed. And 6 semesters of p.e. were required. I could always take horse back riding, water polo, touch football, and parachuting at a later date.
"M'am, I've decided on bowling or scuba diving, please." I said to the p.e. administrator who was in charge of validating my request.
"Oh, you have, eh? Well, I've got news for you. You are required to take "Conditioning Exercises," "Grueling Calisthenics," taught by Coach Hardass or "Preparing for Basic Training," ( for those of you who will undoubtedly flunk out ) under the auspices of G.I. Joe, himself, Colonel Jesup, in the first two semesters."
"No badminton, eh?"
"Correct."
"Give me grueling calisthenics." I said meekly. Maybe it would be a good idea to get into better shape even tho I was up to a pack a day. Winstons in the red pack.
I also took Anthropology, an English class where we learned more about grammar, Mathematics 101, and Military. Yes, I would have to join the Military. [ Air Force ] Off I'd go into the wild blue yonder?
Military was required for the first year at Truck U., but there were rumours circulating around campus that involuntary subscription would soon be optional. We were all hoping for the cease and desist order. We had come to college to learn and advance our stations in life, and because we were horny teens, we had adopted the motto, "Make love, not war."
The closest thing we had come to actual sex, at least in most of our cases, had come under blankets with a magazine in tow. Sure, we had had girlfriends who liked to kiss and would allow a quick glancing feel via the chest region, but that was the extent of it. Plus, I looked like I was 14 and the chicks dug the manly, experienced types, to which I was not privy.
Keith had joined the Air Force, too, and our first day we looked rather spiffy in our blues. We were in the same company and rode the bus together to drills. We got off and lazily started walking towards our battalion. We were in for a surprise when our platoon leader greeted us with:
"Hey, you piss ants. Move it, move it, move it. Get the lead out of yer ass. Let's go!"
For whatever reasons Keith just didn't like anybody talking to him in such a manner. And privately told me if this kind of treatment continued, he would have to retaliate against our commander.
"What'll yawl think this is? High school? Move it, piss ants!"
We marched around a while and had an obligatory inspection from our new leader. Inspecting the new troops he sauntered up to me and said:
"Where you from, boy?"
"Rowdy High, sir!"
"Rowdy High. I want to know where you from, son. Your home town, not where you went to goldarn high school."
"Golden Pond, sir. United States of America, sir!"
"I heard only two things come from there, boy, steers and beers. Which one is you?"
Thinking of Bubba's, I humbly mumbled, "Beer, sir!"
My new Air Force Team Leader shook his head, muttering under his breath as he checked out a new recruit.
I was bone-tired from "conditioning exercises" as we made our way back on the school bus to our dorm. Keith was still peeved about the hazing we received.
"I ain't takin' no shit off that little bastard," he said.
"You better watch your step, amigo. You know you can get court-martialed and expelled from the corps. And it will appear on your permanent record. You will be labeled as an outcast." I said.
"I don't care, vee. I ain't takin' no shit off him or nobody."
I didn't say another word. And closed my eyes. Hungry, I looked forward to indulging in dinner at Smelling Hall. A cafeteria on campus where you could select anything you wanted. Hamburgers, fries, pasta, starches, sweets, here we come.
"Vee. Here's where we get off." Keith said as he shook me from my brief ten minute power nap. [ this terminology had not been invented b.i.t.d. but will be used here per poetic license ]
She said there is no reason and the truth is plain to see,
that I wandered through my playing cards would not let her be.
One of sixteen vestal virgins who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open they might just as well been closed....
I was feeling kinda seasick but the crowd called out for more
The room was humming harder as the ceiling flew away
When we called out for another drinkthe waiter brought a tray....
I had received my classes for the first quarter. A full load. And in hindsight-er, 20 or so years later-methinks it would have been better to have been a little less ambitious. I was a stranger in a strange land. Should have taken basket weaving 101 or remedial English where the subject matter consisted of "See Jane run." And "See Dick run." But, alas, hindsight is 20/20.
I ambled up to one of the desks to choose my p.e. assignment- physical education for the uninformed. Truck U. offered scuba diving, bowling, archery, volleyball, etc. Hey, this will be fun. I liked to bowl and scuba diving sounded intriguing so my choices had been narrowed. And 6 semesters of p.e. were required. I could always take horse back riding, water polo, touch football, and parachuting at a later date.
"M'am, I've decided on bowling or scuba diving, please." I said to the p.e. administrator who was in charge of validating my request.
"Oh, you have, eh? Well, I've got news for you. You are required to take "Conditioning Exercises," "Grueling Calisthenics," taught by Coach Hardass or "Preparing for Basic Training," ( for those of you who will undoubtedly flunk out ) under the auspices of G.I. Joe, himself, Colonel Jesup, in the first two semesters."
"No badminton, eh?"
"Correct."
"Give me grueling calisthenics." I said meekly. Maybe it would be a good idea to get into better shape even tho I was up to a pack a day. Winstons in the red pack.
I also took Anthropology, an English class where we learned more about grammar, Mathematics 101, and Military. Yes, I would have to join the Military. [ Air Force ] Off I'd go into the wild blue yonder?
Military was required for the first year at Truck U., but there were rumours circulating around campus that involuntary subscription would soon be optional. We were all hoping for the cease and desist order. We had come to college to learn and advance our stations in life, and because we were horny teens, we had adopted the motto, "Make love, not war."
The closest thing we had come to actual sex, at least in most of our cases, had come under blankets with a magazine in tow. Sure, we had had girlfriends who liked to kiss and would allow a quick glancing feel via the chest region, but that was the extent of it. Plus, I looked like I was 14 and the chicks dug the manly, experienced types, to which I was not privy.
Keith had joined the Air Force, too, and our first day we looked rather spiffy in our blues. We were in the same company and rode the bus together to drills. We got off and lazily started walking towards our battalion. We were in for a surprise when our platoon leader greeted us with:
"Hey, you piss ants. Move it, move it, move it. Get the lead out of yer ass. Let's go!"
For whatever reasons Keith just didn't like anybody talking to him in such a manner. And privately told me if this kind of treatment continued, he would have to retaliate against our commander.
"What'll yawl think this is? High school? Move it, piss ants!"
We marched around a while and had an obligatory inspection from our new leader. Inspecting the new troops he sauntered up to me and said:
"Where you from, boy?"
"Rowdy High, sir!"
"Rowdy High. I want to know where you from, son. Your home town, not where you went to goldarn high school."
"Golden Pond, sir. United States of America, sir!"
"I heard only two things come from there, boy, steers and beers. Which one is you?"
Thinking of Bubba's, I humbly mumbled, "Beer, sir!"
My new Air Force Team Leader shook his head, muttering under his breath as he checked out a new recruit.
I was bone-tired from "conditioning exercises" as we made our way back on the school bus to our dorm. Keith was still peeved about the hazing we received.
"I ain't takin' no shit off that little bastard," he said.
"You better watch your step, amigo. You know you can get court-martialed and expelled from the corps. And it will appear on your permanent record. You will be labeled as an outcast." I said.
"I don't care, vee. I ain't takin' no shit off him or nobody."
I didn't say another word. And closed my eyes. Hungry, I looked forward to indulging in dinner at Smelling Hall. A cafeteria on campus where you could select anything you wanted. Hamburgers, fries, pasta, starches, sweets, here we come.
"Vee. Here's where we get off." Keith said as he shook me from my brief ten minute power nap. [ this terminology had not been invented b.i.t.d. but will be used here per poetic license ]
She said there is no reason and the truth is plain to see,
that I wandered through my playing cards would not let her be.
One of sixteen vestal virgins who were leaving for the coast
and although my eyes were open they might just as well been closed....
Sunday, January 16, 2005
The Return of the Force!
It is well-chronicled how the synchronistic force flows within me. However, I never know when it will rear its head. It is always freaky just the same.
Today I received a call from one of my old pals. We hadn't spoken to each other in probably 10 years or more. You know how it is as time goes by. Play it again, Sam. You get married and you have kids and you have mortgage payments and you have bills out the ying-yang. And your old friends have lives, too. And you just kind of lose touch with one another. And time fades away. [ a tip of the cap to Neil Young ]
And your hair starts falling out and your eyesight starts failing and your girlish figure will never be the same size as it was back in the day. And you start worrying about impending diseases you may get- real and imagined. And you just don't have the same zest for life cos it seems as if each day is a repeat of the prior one.
So when you lose touch with old friends maybe you don't mind. You want them to remember you as the guy with the full head of hair who didn't wear coca-cola lens/glasses and had a svelte shape. And who wanted to change the world. Ah, memories.
Back to the call. It was from my old Truck U. roommate. Yes, it was none other than Keith. Maybe you remember? He had the bottom bunk and me the top bunk at Payne Hall. He was calling to let me know that one of our old comrades had bit the dust.
It was good to hear from Keith but sad to learn the news. He asked how Kitty and the kids were doing and me likewise. He said something about "we weren't supposed to get old."
He always had a way with a saying. But I couldn't help wondering if he still had his hair. Arnold, his dad, was follicle-challenged so it's a good bet Keith is too.
He also asked about Bogus Bob and I told him Bob was balder than the proverbial cue ball, allah his dad, who we affectionately referred to as "Sweet Lucy," and who passed away years ago. And now another Rowdy High Alum.
Anyway, me and Keith said our goodbyes. And images of a time long gone swirled through my mind. But what are the odds? I write Truck U. starring Keith, my childhood chum, and a coppola weeks later he's calling me after a ten year mia. What to think of this phenomena known as synchronicity?-may the force be with you. Flowing within you and without you. Go figga, mon trigga.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. "Whatever happened to
The life that we once knew?
Always made me feel
So free"
Today I received a call from one of my old pals. We hadn't spoken to each other in probably 10 years or more. You know how it is as time goes by. Play it again, Sam. You get married and you have kids and you have mortgage payments and you have bills out the ying-yang. And your old friends have lives, too. And you just kind of lose touch with one another. And time fades away. [ a tip of the cap to Neil Young ]
And your hair starts falling out and your eyesight starts failing and your girlish figure will never be the same size as it was back in the day. And you start worrying about impending diseases you may get- real and imagined. And you just don't have the same zest for life cos it seems as if each day is a repeat of the prior one.
So when you lose touch with old friends maybe you don't mind. You want them to remember you as the guy with the full head of hair who didn't wear coca-cola lens/glasses and had a svelte shape. And who wanted to change the world. Ah, memories.
Back to the call. It was from my old Truck U. roommate. Yes, it was none other than Keith. Maybe you remember? He had the bottom bunk and me the top bunk at Payne Hall. He was calling to let me know that one of our old comrades had bit the dust.
It was good to hear from Keith but sad to learn the news. He asked how Kitty and the kids were doing and me likewise. He said something about "we weren't supposed to get old."
He always had a way with a saying. But I couldn't help wondering if he still had his hair. Arnold, his dad, was follicle-challenged so it's a good bet Keith is too.
He also asked about Bogus Bob and I told him Bob was balder than the proverbial cue ball, allah his dad, who we affectionately referred to as "Sweet Lucy," and who passed away years ago. And now another Rowdy High Alum.
Anyway, me and Keith said our goodbyes. And images of a time long gone swirled through my mind. But what are the odds? I write Truck U. starring Keith, my childhood chum, and a coppola weeks later he's calling me after a ten year mia. What to think of this phenomena known as synchronicity?-may the force be with you. Flowing within you and without you. Go figga, mon trigga.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. "Whatever happened to
The life that we once knew?
Always made me feel
So free"
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Paris Hilton and Brittany Spears
I recently wrote a disparaging foray concerning my fellow bloggers and "Blonde Sagacity." Who has an interesting column but uses the word "I" too much when she writes. Just a helpful hint, but, Shirley, she could give a rat's ass concerning my opinion. She did email me back once when the Pond engaged her server. But since then, nada. Oh, well.
I had a few hits tonite from people who were searching for blonde sagacity. And have had hits in the past from folks who were looking for Gretchen Wilson. Gimme a hell yeah!
So why not go with the flow and add Paris and Brittany to the fray.
Plus, I have to get back to the new conspiracy theory which is rearing its ugly head.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. Kenny Chesney, Abu Ghraib, Elektra, Meet The Fockers, et al.
I had a few hits tonite from people who were searching for blonde sagacity. And have had hits in the past from folks who were looking for Gretchen Wilson. Gimme a hell yeah!
So why not go with the flow and add Paris and Brittany to the fray.
Plus, I have to get back to the new conspiracy theory which is rearing its ugly head.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. Kenny Chesney, Abu Ghraib, Elektra, Meet The Fockers, et al.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
It's Like That Sometimes
After last night's rant where do we go from here?
Maybe I didn't think things through [ apologies to George in "Same Time, Next Year." ] A wonderful movie that me and Kitty saw on a doublebill at the drive-in. Back in the day. Same Time was the 2nd feature and we thought it would be the obligatory bomb. But it was excellent. And funny. Plus, I've always had a thing for red heads and Ellyn Burston is truly da bomb.
It aired the other nite on TCM. Didn't know Ms. B was nominated for an Oscar. Along with best cinematography and a coppola others. A tip of the cap to Robert Osborne, grand guru of TCM.
As for "She Devil." Shirley, I've seen it. With Jack Kelly. Yes, I remember the old WB logo which introduced "Cheyenne," "Sugarfoot," "Bronco," "77 Sunset Strip" with Ed "Cookie" Burns, and, of course, "Maverick." A young v.c. remembers, allah Pepperidge Farm, but James Garner was the better imho.
She devil sounds familiar. A black and white b grade thriller where the unsuspecting heroine drinks a magic potion or is bitten by a crab and is transformed into a monster.
Well, it's late.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. And Ms. Fromage. I have added you to my favourites. Anyone who knows Jack Kelley and quotes "The Wrath of Catfish, er, Khan" can't be all bad.
Maybe I didn't think things through [ apologies to George in "Same Time, Next Year." ] A wonderful movie that me and Kitty saw on a doublebill at the drive-in. Back in the day. Same Time was the 2nd feature and we thought it would be the obligatory bomb. But it was excellent. And funny. Plus, I've always had a thing for red heads and Ellyn Burston is truly da bomb.
It aired the other nite on TCM. Didn't know Ms. B was nominated for an Oscar. Along with best cinematography and a coppola others. A tip of the cap to Robert Osborne, grand guru of TCM.
As for "She Devil." Shirley, I've seen it. With Jack Kelly. Yes, I remember the old WB logo which introduced "Cheyenne," "Sugarfoot," "Bronco," "77 Sunset Strip" with Ed "Cookie" Burns, and, of course, "Maverick." A young v.c. remembers, allah Pepperidge Farm, but James Garner was the better imho.
She devil sounds familiar. A black and white b grade thriller where the unsuspecting heroine drinks a magic potion or is bitten by a crab and is transformed into a monster.
Well, it's late.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. And Ms. Fromage. I have added you to my favourites. Anyone who knows Jack Kelley and quotes "The Wrath of Catfish, er, Khan" can't be all bad.
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
Bored/Kaput/Fini'
Well, I'm back to the bored in more ways than one. I tried, I really did try to become engaged with some of my fellow bloggers. But most of what is written is BORING! Maybe they think the same of the Pond cos my forays into the infantile ain't exactly "knocking 'em dead."
Forays into the infantile? Coined by yours truly. You don't see that anywhere else. And Farewell and adieu? Sure, it was stolen from me all time favorite movie, "Jaws," when Captain Squint, er, Quint sang the spanish hymnal to Hooper, who was bringing on board an anti-shark cage. In hopes of corraling the 25 footer that was wreaking havoc on Amity Island.
And there are others. "You may now disembark the nite train. All a'bored" is one. "May the [ synchronistic ] force be with you." There may be more but ye old memory banks ain't what they used to be. Apologies to the old, grey mare.
But the blogs. Tried reading. Made more than a valiant effort to become engaged but it ain't happening. Even tried "Blonde Sagacity." But her last post about "circumcision" made me want to hurl. Not about the subject matter cos I could really give a rat's ass whether her kid or the kid next day or a kid in Ireland gets a snip and tuck, but because she says it's a macho thing and it's dangerous cos the doc might cut off the penis and it's painful and it's not unsanitary to go au natural and blah blah blah.
Who cares? I don't. And deleting a penis is just another thing for people to worry about. So I deleted her blog from my favorites. Can't take it any more.
My sister, who has always been a hypochondriac, will no longer use a cell phone cos her daughter told her they cause cancer. Damn. Like you're gonna get out of this life alive?
And I've tried the liberal blogs but I HAVE HAD enough. At least change it up from time to time, cos there's got to be something else in your life you can share besides these harangues against Bush.
And the others? It's all "I feel like what was said is...." Well of course you feel that way cos you're writing it.
And: "I decided to go to the mall. And I hailed a taxi. And I knew it would rain. And I arrived at 3 p.m. And I went to the Tattoo Hut. And I thought the owner was cute. And I think I came across too aggressive. And I feel like I hate Bush. And I hate Cheney. And I wish Rumsfeld would croak. And I love the dems."
And then there's the bizarre ones where the poor kids contemplate suicide.
Well, "I've" had enough. Kaput. Fini'.
I deleted all my ex-favorite blogs this week. 'Cept for Hootsbuddy's Place. Hoots, you may be a liberal dem but at least you try to be fair, methinks. And you do change direction instead of the s.o.s.
Well, that's about it. "Tell us how you really feel, eh?" Submitted for your approval and perusal,
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. Thanks Francis Gottlieb. If all the world enjoyed my stuff as you do, I'd be on the N.Y. Times bestseller list yesterday.
P.S. S. Francis, was that you "I" sat next to at the Jethro Tull concert. Back in the day. Aqualung, eh? Or was it Locomotive Breath?
Forays into the infantile? Coined by yours truly. You don't see that anywhere else. And Farewell and adieu? Sure, it was stolen from me all time favorite movie, "Jaws," when Captain Squint, er, Quint sang the spanish hymnal to Hooper, who was bringing on board an anti-shark cage. In hopes of corraling the 25 footer that was wreaking havoc on Amity Island.
And there are others. "You may now disembark the nite train. All a'bored" is one. "May the [ synchronistic ] force be with you." There may be more but ye old memory banks ain't what they used to be. Apologies to the old, grey mare.
But the blogs. Tried reading. Made more than a valiant effort to become engaged but it ain't happening. Even tried "Blonde Sagacity." But her last post about "circumcision" made me want to hurl. Not about the subject matter cos I could really give a rat's ass whether her kid or the kid next day or a kid in Ireland gets a snip and tuck, but because she says it's a macho thing and it's dangerous cos the doc might cut off the penis and it's painful and it's not unsanitary to go au natural and blah blah blah.
Who cares? I don't. And deleting a penis is just another thing for people to worry about. So I deleted her blog from my favorites. Can't take it any more.
My sister, who has always been a hypochondriac, will no longer use a cell phone cos her daughter told her they cause cancer. Damn. Like you're gonna get out of this life alive?
And I've tried the liberal blogs but I HAVE HAD enough. At least change it up from time to time, cos there's got to be something else in your life you can share besides these harangues against Bush.
And the others? It's all "I feel like what was said is...." Well of course you feel that way cos you're writing it.
And: "I decided to go to the mall. And I hailed a taxi. And I knew it would rain. And I arrived at 3 p.m. And I went to the Tattoo Hut. And I thought the owner was cute. And I think I came across too aggressive. And I feel like I hate Bush. And I hate Cheney. And I wish Rumsfeld would croak. And I love the dems."
And then there's the bizarre ones where the poor kids contemplate suicide.
Well, "I've" had enough. Kaput. Fini'.
I deleted all my ex-favorite blogs this week. 'Cept for Hootsbuddy's Place. Hoots, you may be a liberal dem but at least you try to be fair, methinks. And you do change direction instead of the s.o.s.
Well, that's about it. "Tell us how you really feel, eh?" Submitted for your approval and perusal,
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. Thanks Francis Gottlieb. If all the world enjoyed my stuff as you do, I'd be on the N.Y. Times bestseller list yesterday.
P.S. S. Francis, was that you "I" sat next to at the Jethro Tull concert. Back in the day. Aqualung, eh? Or was it Locomotive Breath?
Monday, January 10, 2005
From The Land Beyond Beyond
There is no creative spark tonite, as if there ever is one, eh? The picture is from my favorite all time sci-fi movie, "The Seventh Voyage of Sinbad." Special effects by Ray Harry hausen. Computer-animation be damned. And music by Bernard Herrman. They don't make 'em like they used to.
Thursday, January 06, 2005
To The Anonymous Poster and Truck U. 3
I was content on settling in tonite with a brandy and a snuggle with Kitty by the fireplace. Envisioning the two of us roasting marshmallows and reading a few verses from Keats. And afterwards discussing the imminent threats of global warming, social security, voter fraud, reinstitution of the draft, Iraq, and anything else that tickled our fancies. But not necessarily in any particular order.
But after reading THE first reply to my Truck U. series, I was compelled to work on Truck U. 3.
And without further adieu, here it is. And thanks to you, Francis Gottlieb, for helping to resuscitate the juices. And, yes, I remember you well. Remember the night we saw Steppenwolf at the Coliseum. Gol darn the pusher man, eh?
Truck U. 3:
Bogus Bob didn't go to Truck U. He joined the Navy after graduating from Rowdy High and the subsequent ditching by his girl friend who wanted "to see other people." Well, old Bogey said "ship ahoy" and joined the Navy.
The Vietnam War was in full throttle and back in tha day you either had to go to college or join the armed forces. Bob wasn't much for the books and he was ready to see the world. He was a fast typist and could manage 100 words per minute. And a singer of some renown he had played L'il Abner in Rowdy High's school play. I even had a brief part as the honourable Jack S. Phogburn. Ah, I remember it well. And my grand solo where I engaged the denizens of Dogpatch with:
"Of all the very ordinary
Must unloved unnecessary
Places on this earth
They settled on yourn
As sure as your born
They settled on yourn
Dogpatch!"
Ah, show biz. It was my 15 minutes of fame with all due respect to Andy Warhol. Altho I never graced the outside of a Campbell Soup can.
What about Bob? He went to Va. to do his basic training but would come home on the weekends to see the old gang. We'd make the bar scene, normally a haven for rednecks and middle-aged geezers, but they would sell us beer even tho we were underaged by about 3 years.
One night me, Keith, and Bogus stopped by a tavern and ordered draughts. I was uncomfortable and intimidated somewhat by the older crowd-what was I doing in a bar?-but immediately felt at ease when the patrons started lip-synching the words to Mungo Jerry's surprise hit. [ "In the Summertime" ] And they were really getting into the "Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh..." part.
In the summertime when the weather's high,
you can stretch right up and touch the sky,
when the weather's fine,you got women,
you got women on your mind.
Have a drink, have a drive,
go out and see what you can find.
If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal.
If her daddy's poor, just do as you feel.
Speed along the lane,
Do a ton, or a ton and twenty-five.
When the sun goes down, you can make it,make it good in a lay-by.
We're not grey people, we're not dirty, we're not mean.
We love everybody, but we do as we think.
When the weather's fine
we go fishing or go swimming in the sea.
We're always happy,life's for living, yeah, that's our philosophy.
Sing along with us, dee-dee-dee-dee-dee.
Da-da-da-da-da...Yeah, we're happy happy,
da-da-da-da-dah.
When the winter's here, then it's party time.
Bring a bottle, wear your bright clothes.
It'll soon be summertime, and we'll sing again,
we'll go drivin' or maybe we'll settle down.
If she's rich, if she's nice,
bring your friends and we'll all go into town.
Well, it was always an adventure when going out with Bogus. But soon he would be shipped to the middle east by way of Columbia, Africa, and parts unknown. His final destination would be Bahrain. There he would meet his wife, Andromeda, but that's getting ahead of ourselves. Plus, it's getting late.
"SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells."
"Yes, Kitty. I will throw another log on yonder fire, my love. And, shirley, ode to Kitty 3 is on the horizon."
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
But after reading THE first reply to my Truck U. series, I was compelled to work on Truck U. 3.
And without further adieu, here it is. And thanks to you, Francis Gottlieb, for helping to resuscitate the juices. And, yes, I remember you well. Remember the night we saw Steppenwolf at the Coliseum. Gol darn the pusher man, eh?
Truck U. 3:
Bogus Bob didn't go to Truck U. He joined the Navy after graduating from Rowdy High and the subsequent ditching by his girl friend who wanted "to see other people." Well, old Bogey said "ship ahoy" and joined the Navy.
The Vietnam War was in full throttle and back in tha day you either had to go to college or join the armed forces. Bob wasn't much for the books and he was ready to see the world. He was a fast typist and could manage 100 words per minute. And a singer of some renown he had played L'il Abner in Rowdy High's school play. I even had a brief part as the honourable Jack S. Phogburn. Ah, I remember it well. And my grand solo where I engaged the denizens of Dogpatch with:
"Of all the very ordinary
Must unloved unnecessary
Places on this earth
They settled on yourn
As sure as your born
They settled on yourn
Dogpatch!"
Ah, show biz. It was my 15 minutes of fame with all due respect to Andy Warhol. Altho I never graced the outside of a Campbell Soup can.
What about Bob? He went to Va. to do his basic training but would come home on the weekends to see the old gang. We'd make the bar scene, normally a haven for rednecks and middle-aged geezers, but they would sell us beer even tho we were underaged by about 3 years.
One night me, Keith, and Bogus stopped by a tavern and ordered draughts. I was uncomfortable and intimidated somewhat by the older crowd-what was I doing in a bar?-but immediately felt at ease when the patrons started lip-synching the words to Mungo Jerry's surprise hit. [ "In the Summertime" ] And they were really getting into the "Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh Chh chh-chh, uh, chh chh-chh, uh..." part.
In the summertime when the weather's high,
you can stretch right up and touch the sky,
when the weather's fine,you got women,
you got women on your mind.
Have a drink, have a drive,
go out and see what you can find.
If her daddy's rich, take her out for a meal.
If her daddy's poor, just do as you feel.
Speed along the lane,
Do a ton, or a ton and twenty-five.
When the sun goes down, you can make it,make it good in a lay-by.
We're not grey people, we're not dirty, we're not mean.
We love everybody, but we do as we think.
When the weather's fine
we go fishing or go swimming in the sea.
We're always happy,life's for living, yeah, that's our philosophy.
Sing along with us, dee-dee-dee-dee-dee.
Da-da-da-da-da...Yeah, we're happy happy,
da-da-da-da-dah.
When the winter's here, then it's party time.
Bring a bottle, wear your bright clothes.
It'll soon be summertime, and we'll sing again,
we'll go drivin' or maybe we'll settle down.
If she's rich, if she's nice,
bring your friends and we'll all go into town.
Well, it was always an adventure when going out with Bogus. But soon he would be shipped to the middle east by way of Columbia, Africa, and parts unknown. His final destination would be Bahrain. There he would meet his wife, Andromeda, but that's getting ahead of ourselves. Plus, it's getting late.
"SEASON of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells."
"Yes, Kitty. I will throw another log on yonder fire, my love. And, shirley, ode to Kitty 3 is on the horizon."
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Ah, Memories!
This is a picture of me, Kitty, and Catlin. From back in the day. Sorry, I'll have to hunt for a family portrait with Charlie Jr., Penny, and Neil.
Monday, January 03, 2005
Inner Voice
Me and my inner voice had a brief conversation tonite. It told me to leave the wonderful food biz world. And look for a new job. I didn't want to listen but it was persistent.
It continues to leave subtle hints in my psyche as I'm cutting roast beef, walking the stairmaster, drinking a cup of folger's coffee ( heavy on the caffeine ) with Ms. Olson, playing golf, wind surfing, para-sailing, or writing infantile forays.
The following is a transcript of our conversation. Inner voice vs. yours truly:
"You should quit your job!"
I know, I know. Yes, I'm burnt out!
"You have had your fill of passive-aggressive guests and team members!"
You are so right. Yes, yes!"
"Why not request a tryout with the Golden Corral?"
No, no. Working in the food biz is a worse cruelty than chinese water torture or bamboos under the fingernails.
"You will never receive a purple heart, allah John Kerry, for all of your years of service, even tho you deserve one. No one gives a shit about you!"
Yes, yes. Like a pawn in chess. Tell me more oh inner voice.
"Your buddy, hoots, [ Hootsbuddy's Place ] made the right decision years ago. He left the rat race, the uncertainty, the mental abuse, the squeezing of the turnip, allah Didactic Daddy and others. Get out while the getting's good."
But I'm getting old. My hair is falling out, long nose hairs now seem chic and fashionable, my ear hairs are multiplying faster than a fruit fly colony on a ripe plantain, and my increasing girth is off the chain. Who would hire me? My best years are over.
"Quit, v.c. Quit, v.c. Quit, v.c. And return to a simpler, less stressful lifestyle."
But who will order the produce? Who will unclog the drains? Who will call Quad A repair? Who will taste and cook the food? Who will wash the dishes? Who will wash the pots? Who will supervise garbage detail? Who will write the infantile forays?
"Quit v.c. Quit v.c. And vote for John Kerry in the upcoming presidential election. And go to bed and watch 'Kissin' Cousins' or 'Follow that Dream' with the King ( not Slim Whitman )"
I will try, inner voice. I will try.
"Listen to me, v.c. For your own good. And while you are at it, let the readers know this is the end of tonite's foray. And sign-off with your tag line and write a few postscripts."
I will try, inner voice. I will try.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. I am v.c. but my inner voice has approved tonite's foray.
P.S.S. The above foray was written in August 2004. Tweaked to make sense to anyone who reads it and some of the names were changed to protect the innocent, allah Dragnet.
It continues to leave subtle hints in my psyche as I'm cutting roast beef, walking the stairmaster, drinking a cup of folger's coffee ( heavy on the caffeine ) with Ms. Olson, playing golf, wind surfing, para-sailing, or writing infantile forays.
The following is a transcript of our conversation. Inner voice vs. yours truly:
"You should quit your job!"
I know, I know. Yes, I'm burnt out!
"You have had your fill of passive-aggressive guests and team members!"
You are so right. Yes, yes!"
"Why not request a tryout with the Golden Corral?"
No, no. Working in the food biz is a worse cruelty than chinese water torture or bamboos under the fingernails.
"You will never receive a purple heart, allah John Kerry, for all of your years of service, even tho you deserve one. No one gives a shit about you!"
Yes, yes. Like a pawn in chess. Tell me more oh inner voice.
"Your buddy, hoots, [ Hootsbuddy's Place ] made the right decision years ago. He left the rat race, the uncertainty, the mental abuse, the squeezing of the turnip, allah Didactic Daddy and others. Get out while the getting's good."
But I'm getting old. My hair is falling out, long nose hairs now seem chic and fashionable, my ear hairs are multiplying faster than a fruit fly colony on a ripe plantain, and my increasing girth is off the chain. Who would hire me? My best years are over.
"Quit, v.c. Quit, v.c. Quit, v.c. And return to a simpler, less stressful lifestyle."
But who will order the produce? Who will unclog the drains? Who will call Quad A repair? Who will taste and cook the food? Who will wash the dishes? Who will wash the pots? Who will supervise garbage detail? Who will write the infantile forays?
"Quit v.c. Quit v.c. And vote for John Kerry in the upcoming presidential election. And go to bed and watch 'Kissin' Cousins' or 'Follow that Dream' with the King ( not Slim Whitman )"
I will try, inner voice. I will try.
"Listen to me, v.c. For your own good. And while you are at it, let the readers know this is the end of tonite's foray. And sign-off with your tag line and write a few postscripts."
I will try, inner voice. I will try.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. I am v.c. but my inner voice has approved tonite's foray.
P.S.S. The above foray was written in August 2004. Tweaked to make sense to anyone who reads it and some of the names were changed to protect the innocent, allah Dragnet.
Saturday, January 01, 2005
Truck U. II
Look what’s happening out in the streets
Got a revolution got to revolution
Hey I’m dancing down the streets
Got a revolution got to revolution
Ain’t it amazing all the people I meet
Got a revolution got to revolution
One generation got old
One generation got soul
This generation got no destination to hold
Pick up the cry
Hey now it’s time for you and me
Got a revolution got to revolution
Come on now we’re marching to the sea
Got a revolution got to revolution
Who will take it from you
We will and who are we
We are volunteers of America
Me and Keith, my friend from Rowdy High, would be roommates. And we would share a small cubicle at Payne Hall and call it home for the next year. Our new digs consisted of a coppola desks for studying and a stereo/turntable.
Me and Keith were strange bedfellows. Even tho we were friends he was more straight-laced. A top 40 kind of guy who was particularly fond of brass. He enjoyed "Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass" and "Blood, Sweat and Tears" who sang "Spinning Wheel," a big hit at the time. He also loved "I Get Around" by the Beachboys. I guess he was living vicariously through the surfers cos that song would touch something deep inside him. [ the word "vicariously" is used a lot in 2004, but back in tha day, no one thought of it much. ]
Keith, however, was a good friend. And we would be security blankets for each other-confiding in, whining to, and supporting each other.
We would start classes in the morning. We had perused the lobby our first nite at the dorm and had met some interesting characters.
"Are there any smokable butts in the ash tray?" asked the skinny, long-haired, red-headed dude who bounded down the stairs from the 2nd floor. We found out later that he hailed from sunny California. Heathcliffe was his name.
Me and Keith both looked at each other. "This ain't gonna be like Rowdy High," we both thought in unison.
And there was Trent and Larry who lived across from us. Trent was a laid-back kind of guy, who enunciated his words well, and seemed intelligent. He was from Florida. When we first entered his room, he was playing Jefferson Airplane's "Volunteers" [ for America ] An avante-garde reader, or so he claimed, Trent was spouting some philosophical bullshit to try to impress, I guess. I didn't know what in the hell he was talking about, so I just said "heavy" and "far out," dude. Plus, once again, I was thinking how different from Rowdy High this was gonna be.
We used a lot of catchy jargon back then. "Making the scene" was popular. "Love it or leave it" was another one used by the "establishment" aimed towards the "counter culture," who wanted to exit Viet Nam.
And Larry was Trent's roomie. Sort of a geek who thought he was smarter than me and Keith, cos he took calculus in high school and we didn't.
And there was Robert who lived a few doors away . He smacked of southern genteelism and had a very proper southern drawl but had the appearance of a smart-ass. When getting to know him he was a down-to-earth kinda guy. But he had an arrogant air and walked with a swagger.
There were others we would meet as we began our college career. John "Skuzzy" Davis, who put the "S" in skuzzy and Dave Elder. And then there were the two Steves, who had gone to Rowdy High with us. For the time being, however, we will postpone their intros until another time.
But our first night at Payne Hall, after unpacking and arranging what little personal effects we had, was uneventful. The first day of classes loomed on the horizon. I retired to the @%##@ upper bunk and Keith had his bottom berth. The next morning, I remember waking up in a sweat. I was shaking. My face, flushed.
"What's wrong, Vee?" Keith asked. He was already awake and was headed for the latrine, er, bathroom, which was 20 feet down the hall. Dressed in slippers and a robe, he had his shaving stuff with a towel draped over his arm.
"I had a nightmare, Keith."
"What'd you dream about, Vee? Surrounded by the Viet Cong in a rice patty in southeast Asia?"
"No, worse."
"What was it? I know, you dreamed you were Cass' boyfriend!" [ Mama's and Papa's Fame ]
"No, not even close."
"You were a policeman during the Democratic Convention, circa 1968? Mayor Daly, eh?"
"No, dude. I dreamed I graduated from Truck U. and landed a job in the food biz."
"Damn, Vee. You gonna be able to go to classes? I'll call a doctor."
"Thanks, Keith. It was horrible. I dreamed I spent my entire adult life working in a cafeteria. I had to deal with all sorts of passive-aggressive types. Customers. employees, bosses, government agencies-you name it. I had to work on weekends and holidays. I had to work 12 hour plus days. I was never home for my family. And my company kept reducing my benefits and I got two weeks vacation per year."
"I called the doctor, Vee. He'll be here soon."
"It was awful, dude. The worst nightmare I've ever had. In my dream, the customers were making unreasonable demands. The employees always expected instant gratification. Keith, you got a Xanax on you?"
"What's a Xanax?"
"In my dream it was a pill you took to help calm you down when things got hectic."
"Sorry, Vee. Maybe we can go to Bubba's tonite and buy some beer and get drunk. Sorry there's no-what'd you call it?"
"Xanax. Yeah, Bubba's sounds good. You said the doc will be here soon."
This concludes Truck U. 2.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
Got a revolution got to revolution
Hey I’m dancing down the streets
Got a revolution got to revolution
Ain’t it amazing all the people I meet
Got a revolution got to revolution
One generation got old
One generation got soul
This generation got no destination to hold
Pick up the cry
Hey now it’s time for you and me
Got a revolution got to revolution
Come on now we’re marching to the sea
Got a revolution got to revolution
Who will take it from you
We will and who are we
We are volunteers of America
Me and Keith, my friend from Rowdy High, would be roommates. And we would share a small cubicle at Payne Hall and call it home for the next year. Our new digs consisted of a coppola desks for studying and a stereo/turntable.
Me and Keith were strange bedfellows. Even tho we were friends he was more straight-laced. A top 40 kind of guy who was particularly fond of brass. He enjoyed "Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass" and "Blood, Sweat and Tears" who sang "Spinning Wheel," a big hit at the time. He also loved "I Get Around" by the Beachboys. I guess he was living vicariously through the surfers cos that song would touch something deep inside him. [ the word "vicariously" is used a lot in 2004, but back in tha day, no one thought of it much. ]
Keith, however, was a good friend. And we would be security blankets for each other-confiding in, whining to, and supporting each other.
We would start classes in the morning. We had perused the lobby our first nite at the dorm and had met some interesting characters.
"Are there any smokable butts in the ash tray?" asked the skinny, long-haired, red-headed dude who bounded down the stairs from the 2nd floor. We found out later that he hailed from sunny California. Heathcliffe was his name.
Me and Keith both looked at each other. "This ain't gonna be like Rowdy High," we both thought in unison.
And there was Trent and Larry who lived across from us. Trent was a laid-back kind of guy, who enunciated his words well, and seemed intelligent. He was from Florida. When we first entered his room, he was playing Jefferson Airplane's "Volunteers" [ for America ] An avante-garde reader, or so he claimed, Trent was spouting some philosophical bullshit to try to impress, I guess. I didn't know what in the hell he was talking about, so I just said "heavy" and "far out," dude. Plus, once again, I was thinking how different from Rowdy High this was gonna be.
We used a lot of catchy jargon back then. "Making the scene" was popular. "Love it or leave it" was another one used by the "establishment" aimed towards the "counter culture," who wanted to exit Viet Nam.
And Larry was Trent's roomie. Sort of a geek who thought he was smarter than me and Keith, cos he took calculus in high school and we didn't.
And there was Robert who lived a few doors away . He smacked of southern genteelism and had a very proper southern drawl but had the appearance of a smart-ass. When getting to know him he was a down-to-earth kinda guy. But he had an arrogant air and walked with a swagger.
There were others we would meet as we began our college career. John "Skuzzy" Davis, who put the "S" in skuzzy and Dave Elder. And then there were the two Steves, who had gone to Rowdy High with us. For the time being, however, we will postpone their intros until another time.
But our first night at Payne Hall, after unpacking and arranging what little personal effects we had, was uneventful. The first day of classes loomed on the horizon. I retired to the @%##@ upper bunk and Keith had his bottom berth. The next morning, I remember waking up in a sweat. I was shaking. My face, flushed.
"What's wrong, Vee?" Keith asked. He was already awake and was headed for the latrine, er, bathroom, which was 20 feet down the hall. Dressed in slippers and a robe, he had his shaving stuff with a towel draped over his arm.
"I had a nightmare, Keith."
"What'd you dream about, Vee? Surrounded by the Viet Cong in a rice patty in southeast Asia?"
"No, worse."
"What was it? I know, you dreamed you were Cass' boyfriend!" [ Mama's and Papa's Fame ]
"No, not even close."
"You were a policeman during the Democratic Convention, circa 1968? Mayor Daly, eh?"
"No, dude. I dreamed I graduated from Truck U. and landed a job in the food biz."
"Damn, Vee. You gonna be able to go to classes? I'll call a doctor."
"Thanks, Keith. It was horrible. I dreamed I spent my entire adult life working in a cafeteria. I had to deal with all sorts of passive-aggressive types. Customers. employees, bosses, government agencies-you name it. I had to work on weekends and holidays. I had to work 12 hour plus days. I was never home for my family. And my company kept reducing my benefits and I got two weeks vacation per year."
"I called the doctor, Vee. He'll be here soon."
"It was awful, dude. The worst nightmare I've ever had. In my dream, the customers were making unreasonable demands. The employees always expected instant gratification. Keith, you got a Xanax on you?"
"What's a Xanax?"
"In my dream it was a pill you took to help calm you down when things got hectic."
"Sorry, Vee. Maybe we can go to Bubba's tonite and buy some beer and get drunk. Sorry there's no-what'd you call it?"
"Xanax. Yeah, Bubba's sounds good. You said the doc will be here soon."
This concludes Truck U. 2.
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
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