I crawled up out of a gutter, granulated with grit, gruff, and staggered in like a stag who'd drunk his fill to the lobby (the labia) of my building (full of popcorn-fart jokes like this and that) at 2 am, soused, yes, after a gorgeous bachelor-boy evening of eating Mexican food, drinking first pints of Harp Ale, then busting open a case of Spatens--I was being fished out of the sea most of the night--with thedailygrowlerhousepianist and my old pal from the wiles of formerly Chevrolet-Buick, Michigan, themuseumdirector--his wife and kid were off hopping about in the wilds of Connecticut so he invited the maestro and me over to his Upper West Side glory pad all full of his and his wife's art and their mask collections--every motherfucker and his dog in NYC has a mask collection--I keep mine on most of the time--and thedailygrowlerhousepianist and I and the director lavished around all evening nibbling on a pull-pork burrito and a huge crock of guacamole--avocados are called avocados because, yes, they are shaped like testicles, drinking Spatens, gorging on some delicious cheddar the director put out, and the thedailygrowlerhousepianist pulled out a mickey of Jameson's and the director put some Cuba jazz on his fabby new ProTools stereo system with $300.00 speakers and a nice new Mac Power tower, and a nice wide screen, running Leopard, what the hell is that, I'm thinking while looking at his tower, a G6? or whatever Mac calls their latest what used to be the PowerMac--and I crawled home--a nice crawl, it was a pleasant night--temperature a huggy one, you know, a huggy breezy night, cool as Miles Davis blowing on "Tutu"--and I'm listening to my old music and I'm listening to the director's collection of CDs and MP4 downloads--and he puts on a god-damn Andrew Hill CD with this vocalizing shit on it, and The House Pianist knows I hate it and he always puts it on to bug me--then shadows shifted and I was told there were no shadows, and I thought of a poem and desired to write it on toilet paper and went into the director's bathroom and the tub was so old it gave me the creeps and I flushed my poem down the big porcelain toilet bowl before I had ever even wrote it.
I woke up this morning safe in my own bed but feeling like someone had marched my throat out into the middle of Death Valley and left it there to wither in the desiccating
sun--and this Chinese doctor was following me around last night hollering at me, "You need sun! You need sun!" and I cussed his ass out and said, "I don't want son!" "You dumb son of a bitch," he said, and he was right, I was dumb drunk--sloshed--a brain full of sombitch beermares waiting to be dreamed as Jack Kerouac used to call some of his dreams [Jack Kerouac's Book of Dreams]--those dreams you have after you guzzle down a case of beer and eat several pig troughs of Mexican food--golly I gag--remember Holly Woodland? And why would I? But hell, I remember Holly Woodland and Hilly Michaels and here I go drifting back into some old-fashion used-to-be--memories, I should hate memories, though I have to loose them from my brain's belfry--loose them like bats loosed from their upsidedown roosts, or malleable macaws released from their cages, and I loose my tons of memories out the cerebral belfry--ding-dong?--loose them in order to cathartically write them out of my life forever--be gone, damn spots!
One memory I can't shake loose. It's a tragic memory really though nothing but love was killed in it. This certain beautiful woman came to NYC and looked for a certain man she seriously desired to be with, to let it happen with, and he was in NYC and then she was in NYC and she worked over at a restaurant across from Joe Papp's Public Theater and she worked there as a waitress and during her time off she called every name like his in the phone book though she didn't know he had changed his name in NYC and wasn't listed by the name she knew him by so she never found him by phoning every name like his in the NYC phone book--and then they had phone books in phone booths but then the phone companies figured they could do away with providing phone books and rather if you didn't know the number you were calling--oh hell, they simply found another way to bilk a few pennies out of you at first and then jacked it up to a couple of bucks--oh, shit, my head hurts when I think of the crooked phone companies now known as telecommunications companies now known as telecoms--oh bullshit hurts my head--any bullshit I spew is entertaining at least--
--and this woman then walked the streets all around where she thought this man lived hoping by chance to run into him--and this beautiful woman was in NYC 6 months looking for this man, rejecting other offers from men who slow-trailed her around at the restaurant where she worked and offered her either quick love or lasting love, whichever she desired, and she rebuked them and did instead keep searching for her man--
--after giving up, she returned to the town from which she came--she returned to her husband and two kids--she returned to her home to the man she had married--and she immediately had an affair with a politician and that led to her being admitted to the local hospital one night in the throes of depression-enforced deliriums--that sweet beautiful woman--looking for her true love--not finding him--then returning in humility to her husband and kids only to give her love away to a philandering stranger--a man who tasted and enjoyed the hot pleasure of his being inside this sweet beautiful woman who with her eyes shut blind tight was chanting to herself how it was her true love fucking her--though she knew from the pain from this stranger's thrusts that this wasn't love, this was self-destruction!
And I just suddenly on waking up this morning and laying there puffing away on my pipe of dreams and feeling lousy started remembering that sweet beautiful woman...ah life...it is so bitterly sweet when packaged in memories.
I'm dull. I need sharpening.
for The Daily Growler
The WAR in IRAQ! WE'VE WON IT! WE'VE WON IT! At Least That's What These Pundits Are Saying, Check It Out
By ROBERT BURNS and ROBERT H. REID, Associated Press Writers Sat Jul 26, 7:08 PM ET
BAGHDAD - The United States is now winning the war that two years ago seemed lost. Limited, sometimes sharp fighting and periodic terrorist bombings in Iraq are likely to continue, possibly for years. But the Iraqi government and the U.S. now are able to shift focus from mainly combat to mainly building the fragile beginnings of peace — a transition that many found almost unthinkable as recently as one year ago.
Growlers Readers Are Screaming For the Firing of marvelousmarvbackbiter! A The Daily Growler Sports Extra
Yeah, I saw the comments and the letters wanting my nuts on a platter! OK. I'll give in and admit, Brian Cashman and Omar Minaya know more about baseball than I ever dreamed I knew. For instance, I've always spouted venom at Brian Cashman as a dumbass general manager, but he and Hank "The Son" Steinbrenner have laid me to rest as a baseball analyist. I mean, yes, the Yankees today cleaned the Red Sox's clock for the second day in a row and at Fenway, too, which is such a beauty of a ballpark--what a gem--and the Yankees have won 8 in a row now and Joe Girardi is making Brian and Hank look like they knew Joe Torre wasn't actually the greatest manager in baseball afterall and that his old-fashioned managing was cramping the young fast-paced millionaire Yankees's styles--what baseball ingenuity! Getting rid of Joe Torre has sent the Yankees into a hawg-wild spree--"Thank God ("Madre de Dios"), we did not like Senor Joe and his silly Billy Ball. That's why last year none of us could get on track--I mean, now look at us, we are the Champions!" And, yes, the Yankees have moved up, though they are still 2 1/2 games behind the Tampa Bay Rays. But, I'll admit, the Yanks looked brilliant today in Boston. The pitching (Pettite) was perfect. They all hit like maniacs (Derek Jeter and A-Rod have to be the best baseball players going these days). Robinson Cano hit a home run his first at bat today! They plastered Tim Wakefield, but then, how quickly we forget, Joe Torre swept the Red Sox five games last year about this time--and tied them for first--a great comeback from being 20 games under .500 to a first-place tie--to go on to Tampa Bay and lose 3 in a row and then to Baltimore where they lost 2 in a row--and that was the beginning of the end of Joe Torre as the Yankee manager.
And Omar, oh Omar, forgive me, brother, "Mi amigo, perdóneme los errores de mi camino." Boy, how the hell wrong was I about Willie Randolph! I guess I was living under the illusion that a guy who gained his managerial knowledge being Joe Torre's third base coach and then bench coach and then right-hand man would carry that knowledge on to help a team like the Mets get back into the championship mode--which he did. But, hey, how wrong I was. Omar knew Willie was a dud! He knew Jerry Manuel would be the answer to Willie's lack of talent as a manager, his inability to get his players to play at their highest potential like Manuel has done. Yep, the Mets are in the run--first place--in a wild division--Atlanta blew a 7-run lead today to lose to the folding Phillies at the last minute 10-9 or something like that.
And Hank Steinbrenner, yes, Joe did have the Dodgers in first place in their division while Joe Girardi was still 9 games behind the Rays--and, yes, Joe did take them back to first just three or four days ago, but then, like the giving-up manager he's become, the Dodgers lost two in a row and are back a game behind the Diamondbacks now. And what a screwy division that division is, with the Colorado Rockies, last year's National League chumps, er-ah, I mean champs, are back to within 6 of the Diamondbacks in that division.
Baseball is exciting as hell again this year--my spirits are not dampened by my inability to judge baseball and its players anymore.
So, OK, folks, I have admitted the errors of my baseball analysist ways and I beg of you--and we used to have some baseball commenters--they've long deserted us--forgiveness--at least, maybe, you can give me a second chance!
for The Daily Growler Sports Extra
|American League East|
|Tampa Bay||60||42||.588||-||40-16||20-26||26-18||9-10||13-8||5-5||W 1|
|N.Y. Yankees||58||45||.563||2½||33-22||25-23||22-19||14-15||12-3||9-1||W 8|
|National League East|
|N.Y. Mets||56||47||.544||-||31-19||25-28||20-17||9-10||18-14||7-3||W 3|
|National League West|
|L.A. Dodgers||50||52||.490||1||26-24||24-28||10-11||17-14||18-17||5-5||W 1|