Imagine all my Friends
News flash: Abbey Road Studio to open it's doors to the public for 16 days. Reading through the story, (caution sad moment ahead, a moment of silence appropriate) I noticed it's been almost 25 years since John Lennon died. Imagine.
Segue to Ginnie. She uses 'Imagin' as a screen name. Imagine that. Magnets. Ginnie and I are magnets. Sometimes with our polarity reversed. Must be seasonal. Kinda like flu season. We get sick with each other. That's what happens when the polarity gets dirty. Needs to be cleaned. Clean polarity. Ammonia should work.
Talked to Garry last night. We sang 'King of the Road' together. Channeled Roger Miller together. Sang louder, more off-key with each word. "I know every engineer on every train, An' all of the children, an' all of their names." Telephone karaoke duet nightmare. Bliss. Garry says he has relatives. Duh. I mean he has "hick" relatives. Make that 'rel-tives'. Roger Miller is their God. Makes sense. In the same way that Haitian witch doctors worshipping Harold Stassen makes sense. True story. Anyway, Garry's 'rel-tives' like to get likkered up on Pabst. Switch to Schlitz on payday. Two six packs. Then try to call Roger Miller at home. Try to get Roger Miller to sing "Dang Me" over the phone. "Hey Lukey Lou, Rogers ain't a home, want I should leave a message or something?" "Brrrup" That scene being painful to imagine.
I kind of think Garrys' 'rel-tives' would love Buck. Move over Billy Bass. Buck, the talkin', singin', wall-mounted, stag is here. Buck comes with a wireless microphone. You can talk into the microphone and your voice will be a comin right outta Buck's mouth. "Hot damn." "I'll be a sumbitch." "That damn deer talks just like Lukey Lou." Tony Soprano is going to lose it when he sees Buck. Deep deep psychosis looming. Straight jacket stuff. You just know he will be hearing Big Pussy's voice coming out of Bucks' Mouth. "Okay, but not in the face."
Back to Garry. Garry and I have known each other since we were 6 yrs old. First meeting on the swing sets of Fern Drive elementary school. 1959. It was my first day of school. Garry bullied me. Told me I had to get out of the swing sets. Thank god for friends. Hide the porno when you die, kind of friends. And friends we are. Yes. Can't imagine not being friends.
Other news. Nick, Jaxon's kid is in town. Head nod. 'Sup dude? Nick, is a 15 something punk rocker from Portland. Pretty good punk rocker actually. He has been recorded with his band, The Diskords. They even sell his records (punk rockers like vinyl) in Petaluma. Yes, Petaluma. Swoon.
Nick is a great kid. (I'd love to introduce him to Grace, Ginnies daughter. They are both going to be stars.) And while I love bands like The Ramones, Clash, and even the Sex Pistols, it's hard not to be prejudiced against punk rock kids. Stereotype them. Believe that they all have shitty attitudes. Hate adults. Don't listen. Have narrow tastes in music. Should be slapped around. Seriously slapped around. Nick breaks that stereotype. He has room in his life for adults. Even appreciates their advice. Listens to all kind of music. Keeps a very open mind musically. Like his dad. I love that about both of them.
An open mind. Imagine.
Imagine.
Segue to Ginnie. She uses 'Imagin' as a screen name. Imagine that. Magnets. Ginnie and I are magnets. Sometimes with our polarity reversed. Must be seasonal. Kinda like flu season. We get sick with each other. That's what happens when the polarity gets dirty. Needs to be cleaned. Clean polarity. Ammonia should work.
Talked to Garry last night. We sang 'King of the Road' together. Channeled Roger Miller together. Sang louder, more off-key with each word. "I know every engineer on every train, An' all of the children, an' all of their names." Telephone karaoke duet nightmare. Bliss. Garry says he has relatives. Duh. I mean he has "hick" relatives. Make that 'rel-tives'. Roger Miller is their God. Makes sense. In the same way that Haitian witch doctors worshipping Harold Stassen makes sense. True story. Anyway, Garry's 'rel-tives' like to get likkered up on Pabst. Switch to Schlitz on payday. Two six packs. Then try to call Roger Miller at home. Try to get Roger Miller to sing "Dang Me" over the phone. "Hey Lukey Lou, Rogers ain't a home, want I should leave a message or something?" "Brrrup" That scene being painful to imagine.
I kind of think Garrys' 'rel-tives' would love Buck. Move over Billy Bass. Buck, the talkin', singin', wall-mounted, stag is here. Buck comes with a wireless microphone. You can talk into the microphone and your voice will be a comin right outta Buck's mouth. "Hot damn." "I'll be a sumbitch." "That damn deer talks just like Lukey Lou." Tony Soprano is going to lose it when he sees Buck. Deep deep psychosis looming. Straight jacket stuff. You just know he will be hearing Big Pussy's voice coming out of Bucks' Mouth. "Okay, but not in the face."
Back to Garry. Garry and I have known each other since we were 6 yrs old. First meeting on the swing sets of Fern Drive elementary school. 1959. It was my first day of school. Garry bullied me. Told me I had to get out of the swing sets. Thank god for friends. Hide the porno when you die, kind of friends. And friends we are. Yes. Can't imagine not being friends.
Other news. Nick, Jaxon's kid is in town. Head nod. 'Sup dude? Nick, is a 15 something punk rocker from Portland. Pretty good punk rocker actually. He has been recorded with his band, The Diskords. They even sell his records (punk rockers like vinyl) in Petaluma. Yes, Petaluma. Swoon.
Nick is a great kid. (I'd love to introduce him to Grace, Ginnies daughter. They are both going to be stars.) And while I love bands like The Ramones, Clash, and even the Sex Pistols, it's hard not to be prejudiced against punk rock kids. Stereotype them. Believe that they all have shitty attitudes. Hate adults. Don't listen. Have narrow tastes in music. Should be slapped around. Seriously slapped around. Nick breaks that stereotype. He has room in his life for adults. Even appreciates their advice. Listens to all kind of music. Keeps a very open mind musically. Like his dad. I love that about both of them.
An open mind. Imagine.
Imagine.
posted by Sonoma Blue at 7:03 AM
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