Logging the Days
Apr. 23rd, 2010 02:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalon~ Last Thursday found me trapped in Teabag Hell. 8:45pm and I was bopping the MARTA to work for a quick security shift. Transfered rails to catch the north line at the Five Points Station. Arrived to a platform filled edge to edge with flag fetishists and tax revolters. Everyone was dressed in some variation of Old Glory - red/white striped long sleeve button ups, t-shirts emblazoned with vengeful and open taloned eagles, star splattered baseball caps and if stripped down Don't Tread On Me snakes stiched across the crotch of their Tighty-Whiteys. For me it was like I had suddenly stepped into a subterranean meeting of some Golden Age superhero group. Jesus Society of America Assemble!!!
They all seemed to be having a good time. Laughing, joking, swapping wallet snapshots of kids or exchanging e-mails. Most carried large white sheets of construction paper with magic marker scrawled slogans dictated fresh from their daily Faux News Feed. Save the Constitution pleas and Obamacare + America = Socialism equations tucked under armpits or resting between legs. With a bit of casual eavesdropping I caught on that they had arrived from some sort of protest at the Gold Dome for an April 15th themed Five Minute Hate remix and were now on their way back home.
Thankfully a train arrived sooner than later and the Million Uncle Sam March shuffled and squeezed into the cab. Mingled in where very tired and wary regular commuters. The crowd was too much for the train's doors. It took forever or three whole long minutes for them to finally pinch us off and shut. Mass bitching ensued from the Teabaggers as we rumbled away. Parallel's made loud between MARTA and OBAMA. Nervous looks from the smattering of old black women. Two stops of this shit and at North Avenue I slither through a sea of man-boobs and hate off the train.
The doors go to close just as I exit. Spin around and catch it and pry it back open.
"Hasta la victoria siempre!" I shout while releasing the doors to flash a peace sign to the startled Amerizombies. Before they can react the train is resealed and lumbers them back off to the United States of Nascar.
~ So this woman calls me yesterday while I'm riding up to Decatur to meet my Baby for sushi and ice cream. The woman immediately tells me that she had my resume forwarded to her from Yahoo Hot Jobs. She checked it out. She was impressed. Would I be interested in a management position? Sure - I say. She then goes into this spiel about how I would be my own 'sales manager' and that I would be assisting customers with some sort of vacation plan. Uh huh- I say. Furthermore opportunities for big money are almost guaranteed. So is this, what, telemarketing? No - she says - you'd be a manager, a 'Sales Manager'. Cold calls? - I ask. No. We have a special list of prospective... CLICK!
It was a beautiful day, one about to be spent with a beautiful lady. Management could wait.
~ Friday Night Double Feature! First was m'man Teddy Bear in a locally shot zombie flick Pushin' Up Daisies. He played the heavy and was a rare nervous before the opening at the Atlanta Film Fest. No worries. He was great as the film's heavy and the movie, while not quite Shaun of the Dead or Zombieland, was much more entertaining than 90% of the zombie films I've seen in recent years.
On a side note avoid at all costs George Romero's Survival of the Dead. All I'll say is this - Zombies-don't-ride-horses!.
After the movie I huffed it on foot down to Horizon Theatre to meet up with Elvis and Kat to catch The Show. Two buddies of mine, Magpie and West, are in it. Magpie plays an immortal escape artist and avatar of Baron Samedi (though I'm not sure that's all part of the act these days). West plays Minnie Pearl, the freakshows emcee, carnival barker and bearded lady. Though I'd seen it before as promised each show was different from the last. Got a free shot of whiskey (or was it rum) from the Contortionist and a back to the housesitting gig after that.
~ Seven. That's how many dead voles have been delivered to me by Pepe and Polo as of Sunday. I'm not sure what it is but I think the two cats think they're supposed to be taking care of me instead of vice-versa. One of the voles they delivered, right there on the hardwood diningroom floor, was still moving. Little thing was hind crippled though so it could only crawl away. Pepe and Polo took turns batting at it with their paws. In that moment I realized that if there was a lone, vengeful God it wouldn't be some old guy with a wizad beard. It would be a giant cat and every piece of shit luck from Job to us would be Cathovah swatting at us with his Giant Invisible Paws.
As of this writing only a single bird has escaped the two brothers Condo Safari.
~ Princess came by earlier to brighten up my night with wine and to talk tales of yesterday. We got into a conversation about how different we were. Since I was DJ Jack Babalon and she did stage shows to roaring crowds. I wished, as we often do in life, that I could know then what I know now. Mainly, if nothing else, what meager narrative skills I've developed since then. To be able to catch it all down then... before the decades and drugs hazed it all into a blur of vague anecdotes. We lamented Bud, to friends lost and loves shattered. We laughed at Secret Room adventures and after party madness. Then she took off and I poured myself another glass of wine, sat down and started 'talking' to you.
They all seemed to be having a good time. Laughing, joking, swapping wallet snapshots of kids or exchanging e-mails. Most carried large white sheets of construction paper with magic marker scrawled slogans dictated fresh from their daily Faux News Feed. Save the Constitution pleas and Obamacare + America = Socialism equations tucked under armpits or resting between legs. With a bit of casual eavesdropping I caught on that they had arrived from some sort of protest at the Gold Dome for an April 15th themed Five Minute Hate remix and were now on their way back home.
Thankfully a train arrived sooner than later and the Million Uncle Sam March shuffled and squeezed into the cab. Mingled in where very tired and wary regular commuters. The crowd was too much for the train's doors. It took forever or three whole long minutes for them to finally pinch us off and shut. Mass bitching ensued from the Teabaggers as we rumbled away. Parallel's made loud between MARTA and OBAMA. Nervous looks from the smattering of old black women. Two stops of this shit and at North Avenue I slither through a sea of man-boobs and hate off the train.
The doors go to close just as I exit. Spin around and catch it and pry it back open.
"Hasta la victoria siempre!" I shout while releasing the doors to flash a peace sign to the startled Amerizombies. Before they can react the train is resealed and lumbers them back off to the United States of Nascar.
~ So this woman calls me yesterday while I'm riding up to Decatur to meet my Baby for sushi and ice cream. The woman immediately tells me that she had my resume forwarded to her from Yahoo Hot Jobs. She checked it out. She was impressed. Would I be interested in a management position? Sure - I say. She then goes into this spiel about how I would be my own 'sales manager' and that I would be assisting customers with some sort of vacation plan. Uh huh- I say. Furthermore opportunities for big money are almost guaranteed. So is this, what, telemarketing? No - she says - you'd be a manager, a 'Sales Manager'. Cold calls? - I ask. No. We have a special list of prospective... CLICK!
It was a beautiful day, one about to be spent with a beautiful lady. Management could wait.
~ Friday Night Double Feature! First was m'man Teddy Bear in a locally shot zombie flick Pushin' Up Daisies. He played the heavy and was a rare nervous before the opening at the Atlanta Film Fest. No worries. He was great as the film's heavy and the movie, while not quite Shaun of the Dead or Zombieland, was much more entertaining than 90% of the zombie films I've seen in recent years.
On a side note avoid at all costs George Romero's Survival of the Dead. All I'll say is this - Zombies-don't-ride-horses!.
After the movie I huffed it on foot down to Horizon Theatre to meet up with Elvis and Kat to catch The Show. Two buddies of mine, Magpie and West, are in it. Magpie plays an immortal escape artist and avatar of Baron Samedi (though I'm not sure that's all part of the act these days). West plays Minnie Pearl, the freakshows emcee, carnival barker and bearded lady. Though I'd seen it before as promised each show was different from the last. Got a free shot of whiskey (or was it rum) from the Contortionist and a back to the housesitting gig after that.
~ Seven. That's how many dead voles have been delivered to me by Pepe and Polo as of Sunday. I'm not sure what it is but I think the two cats think they're supposed to be taking care of me instead of vice-versa. One of the voles they delivered, right there on the hardwood diningroom floor, was still moving. Little thing was hind crippled though so it could only crawl away. Pepe and Polo took turns batting at it with their paws. In that moment I realized that if there was a lone, vengeful God it wouldn't be some old guy with a wizad beard. It would be a giant cat and every piece of shit luck from Job to us would be Cathovah swatting at us with his Giant Invisible Paws.
As of this writing only a single bird has escaped the two brothers Condo Safari.
~ Princess came by earlier to brighten up my night with wine and to talk tales of yesterday. We got into a conversation about how different we were. Since I was DJ Jack Babalon and she did stage shows to roaring crowds. I wished, as we often do in life, that I could know then what I know now. Mainly, if nothing else, what meager narrative skills I've developed since then. To be able to catch it all down then... before the decades and drugs hazed it all into a blur of vague anecdotes. We lamented Bud, to friends lost and loves shattered. We laughed at Secret Room adventures and after party madness. Then she took off and I poured myself another glass of wine, sat down and started 'talking' to you.
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no subject
on 2010-04-23 03:54 pm (UTC)But I appreciated the gesture. I'm just sorry you have to put up with those Yahoos.
no subject
on 2010-04-23 04:00 pm (UTC)