Sunday, March 9, 2008
Dispatch from the Cabin of Mazochi
I'm bloogering from Mazochi's cabin right now. He ain't here and the cat's here snoozing. I went po-tu-tu in the po-tot-tay earlier and the cat wouldn't leave me alone. Toby fat cat. Fattie love cat. He emotes so clearly and intensely that I defy you not to feel bashful while you're taking a shit right next to him.
Ah, what else. I had what is known as a Mexican Pizza earlier from 52 Burritos on Foothill. Filled me right up. I had chicken as the meat. Great meat there. The beef is choice, I was told.
I had a run-in with some of Melissa Rauso's friends this afternoon. That was excellent. Good luck to ya'all in Chicago. I'd love to check out a library there sometime.
Hmm. I need to do a huge load of laundry and I'm going to go to a laundromat. I like going to laundromats because of the smell and the white noise. Also the people, of course. In general I like to go to public places where people are waiting where there is a lot of white noise and a good smell, on account of I have a large beard and friendly demeanor and I like that kind of attention.
Andy Ryz is back in town. He was over there in Boston or thereabouts. Looks like they fed him. I wish I could go home.
I have a few tracks that I'm going to release on this blog very soon. I'd like to release them A-side-B-side-wise, like in twofers, or pairs of doves. One, with another fluttering in its excited, feather-frenzied aftermath.
To all cops: when in hot pursuit of a suspect, try blasting "Roundabout," by YES. I think it would give you the kind of rush you need right now.
In my peripheral vision Mazochi's guitar polish looked like a paper elephant for a moment, of a material not unlike that of a Chinese fingertrap.
Our apricot tree just sprouted these beautiful white petals... We had thought it might be dead. Tedd has been dutifully watering it. Josh Oxford used to jump into it when... We were all so very poor. It could happen again. I don't care. Josh is coming for a week's visit tomorrow. He's been accompanying an insane number of recitals or music juries or something like that back in Ithaca, at the music college. He tells me he's burned out, needs a week to settle down, see something new, have an adventure. I can understand that. It's getting warm and nicer out here. I felt some extra sun today. My mood depends more on the weather than anything else I can identify. Gimme a few more days of this and I'll start... Something. Ga ga gargle. Give me regular old, tequila-color Listerine--make me feel like a man. Like I oughtta throw on some aftershave! Well hell! I haven't shaved in about a year! Savin' up for Mountain Man. Yeah. Savin up for somethin.
I got stars in my eyes. But in the last two years I started seeing constellations when I glanced up into the night sky. Not looking for anything in particular; no renewed interest in astronomy or astrology or nuthin. So... That's good. I remember making out with a girl named Gina in a planetarium at summercamp. I ached for two or three days when I went home that summer. Ached for Gina. Lump in the throat, sink in the stomach--the whole bit. But I never wrote her a letter. I still wonder about her.
Well, it feels like the earth is shaking. I'll sign off for now.