More to come
the poundings will continue soon
I wake up with a startling thump - on the floor - How did i get here? its early - not quite time to wake up - the comfortable room laughs only because it is not accustomed to this type of buffoonery - not drunk - just on the fucking floor. i am told later that i has asked something about the time - attempting to peer past the lamp and clutter of the bedside table proved to be too much for my center of gravity at this foggy hour of the morning. The smoot - old vaudeville house - pictures of the first showing of Frankenstein circa 1932 - ringling brothers - kong - all badges of honor to an era when this town was forgotten - left to its own devices, but loved in its yellowed pages and model T sort of way. almost as though the collective conciousness is the history of the town itself. The smoot still smells of the corwd from those old tymey days - the stage is small, perfect for juggling dogs and siamese twin acts. double tiered house all red seats and dark wood. too steep for modern crowds, the balcony seems as though its merely for show. bitter cold - most of load in i am unable to feel any sensation in my fingers - i learn that my locals are former drug addicts living at a nearby halfway house, so really current drug addics who havent been doing any drugs recently - all hard working folk from local towns who passesd the time of teenage angst by doing eightballs of coke and making meth instead of treehouses - not bad people, just wasted. Simple wooden chair leaning on tree - out of breath, an old man who sits and watches the bird and wood and snow - missing piecess with every pock and crack a story or year that passed by too quickly,. but now plays in elegant prose across the pages of his mind and the delicate nature of his arms and legs.
I was looking at a picture of myself recently and had the sudden awful realization of my own mortality. i try to put the number 23 to this face and these eyes that should seem so familiar, but keep coming up as some sort of mystery. i pose to everyone that they look at a picture of themselves and then place themselves into a memory from around when that picture was taken. really exaamine your actions, the things you said, the looks you gave, the drink you drank, the smoke you smoked...everything. it will become absurd, its as though trying to look at yourself as an actual person that interacts with other people and has memories and feelings become completely insane. you may not believe this, but put yourself back in a memory you enjoy and as the initial feeling waves over you, there will be a sense of unfamiliarity, its as though that person who did that is merely an afterthought now. and it only is further complicated when you place conciousness into another person, we are instinctualy led to believe we are the center of the universe, in so many words, we feel everything as it occurs and we only feel what happens to us. no one else. so when you suddenly try to get behind the thoughts of a person you are engaging in a particular situation it will level you...or attempt to put yourself into the conciousness of a person you fought with, or broke up with. everything becomes confusing and complete...lets just all live on the ceilings and smile. its the only way to survive.
18 hrs comes and goes like a dream - long enough to leave impressions short enough to be misinterpreted as a dream. I trade the secluded candle lit comfort of angels for hard grey loud scatters of new jersey. I find my legs in the bus that feels more like a submarine and a place i call 'home'. There is an odd comfort that i have found with the bus, a familiarity that estranged childhood friends would have, i say hello and she tells me to sit down and welcome back. The road beckons.
I dont care who you are, and you can deny it up and down, but everyone loves the song 'walking on sunshine'. period. but most aren't willing to admit this to anyone they know, because well, somewhere in history someone decided that because 'walking on sunshine' was such a...well....gay song that it somehow was able to tap into everyones natural 'gayness' if only for three minutes. and this scares alot of people. because everyone knows but no one ever says: Yeah when that song comes on and im in my car alone i turn that fucking song up and sing and dance and practically annouce my joy out loud to everyone in the world' no one says that because everyone does it! but at the same time if another car pulls up to you that song gets turned down faster than girls from statten island. oooooh snap statten island you just got burned...because your girls are dirty, or so ive heard, i really dont know...as a matter of fact.....im sorry statten island ladies (nasty hoes). why this walking on sunshine phenomenon fascinates me is because i was listening to this particular song today right before our first load in. which by the way honestly is like monkeys fucking a football, hilarious until you realize its your football. JP and i wrecked shop as usual, but the load in while interesting isnt the most brilliant part of tour. its my bus. i have always dreamed of being a rock star and anyone who has ever put a microphone within 3 ft of me knows this. So for the next few months i get to pretend i am a rock star and not a carpenter...so this is basically the start of my life on the road. the steps kerouac and cassidy walked are becoming my ownl. finding the souls that have travelled these paths before me and leaving my own mark and story behind for someone else to be in search of one day. ive realized that my line of work has its pitfalls and difficulties, but living on a bus that resembles a hotel room and staying in hotel rooms that resemble hyperreal homes is something that most will never experience.
...I dont this want to be overkill, but i thought of one more commercial that doesnt piss me off because of its content, rather because of the people in the commercial: There is a Visa commercial on TV currently, that shows armies of scissors marching through American city streets Nazi style (i say this because they are goose stepping, not because i am promoting nazi-ism or that it is in any way, shape or form "cool", but their scissors and they have stiff legs, its not really their fault). so they storm the streets and for some reason everyone is lined up to see this, although it doesnt seem that much of a suprise because if i heard that scissors were marching down the street i would either run outside to see if it was true or stop doing drugs because my brain had obviously given up on reality. these people proceed to toss their credit cards at the scissors and these metallic Gestappo have a frenzy feast of the cards, eating them up as fast as mark foley would a adolecent page. nothing wrong...until you reaize that everyone is cheering and hugging! people always accept happy as normal so this really doesnt seem odd...until you add up the facts:normally inadimate metallic cutting devices brought to life + feedy frenzy + cheering crowd = normal. this adds up because its televison and there is suspension of disbelief, but for the love of christ people open your eyes! if that happened in real life those fucking scissors wouldnt be eating up credit cards, they would be cutting apart the human race city by city! there would be no cheering, there would be mass chaos and bloodshed....and it would be our fault for creating scissors. even if they DID eat our credit cards, the cards would run out and they would turn to the next available object to dissect...US...maybe we could keep their hunger at bay for awhile by tapping into the nationl reserve of construction paper, but even that would run out. And this is why these neo ads are aweful...because they pose hypotheticals that, quite frankly, scare the living shit out of me...shame on you American advertising...shaaaaaaaaaaame....
There are a number of things that piss me off on a regular basis: the current administration, humanities unrelenting assault on our planet, david blaine...but recently i have realized something that stands out beyond all the other cocksuckery that is occuring in this world. TV commercials. there was a time when i looked forward to seeing the new generation of commercials that would premiere during the superbowl...these commercials usually set the advertising trend in America for the next year kind of the same way britney spears sets the bar for parenting time and time again. but this past year saw something different: advertising has entered into some sort of epoch of "non sequiter" ads. these basically consist of something that has nothing to do with the product being sold i.e The creepy fucking king from the burger king commercials (which there is not a GODDAMN thing that makes me want to eat burger king less than a static plastic faced man who looks as though he is about to eat my face and rape the hole where my face use to be...good thing flamebroiled still keeps me coming back) or the yaris commercials that depict computer generated rice burners usually trying to one up the other by producing a series of gadgets ( jet engines, cartoonish suction cup arrows and inexplicable flying porccupine landmines...WHAT THE FUCK!?) the problem being: NONE OF THESE THINGS COME WITH THE CAR!! if they did...i would own one, because i have always wanted to own a car that could kill the roadrunner, but the truth is, its just a car...thats it and those commercials have nothing to do with the product itself, and thus why its non sequiter advertising. but for the most part these commercials dont really bother me perse...enter Garnier Fructise...yes, the seemingly harmless fruit-tastic shampoo...these commercials depict women of various races (just in case we were all to think that the people at Garnier were facists who assumed people of color dont bathe) who are all having the most fun a woman can have in a shower without the help of AA batteries. BUT THEN, instead of just telling us that: yes this will clean your hair and yes your hair will smell of fruit and vitamin C?...i have no idea and assumably you will turn into a model...BUT THEN (i am aware that i already said this) they proceed to TIE crecent wrentches into their beautiful hair...yes TIE THEM INTO FUCKING KNOTS in order to prove that this shampoo will make your hair THAT STRONG....WHAT!? at what point in a woman's life is she in the local supermarket thinking "hmmm...well this shampoo here will make my hair clean and dandruff free and it smells like vanilla...BUT for 8 dollars more i could tie crecent wrenches into my hair, because not being able to do so would make me less of a woman and i might as well wear plaid and wear birkenstocks"...you know why you've never heard that? because it never fucking happnes! thats why...and being able to have hair that strong is reserved for superheroes and unless the people at garnier can garuntee that it will give me the ability to stop bullets with my brown beautiful locks then FUCK THEM...because having hair that strong is about as useful and impressive as david blaine when he locked himself in that box for 40 days without food or sex...thats not magic david, thats just stupid, maybe you need to reread your copperfield books....that aside i felt as though i could try my hand at this type of advertising ive been discussing so i propose this: A commercial where two men are staring at a womans vagina in the middle of a kindergarten classroom in bosnia, they stare for a moment and then the man on the right says "wow thats really dialated" at which point redbull starts shooting out in a fountain of energy drink, the kids dance and the men start having sex while britney spears drops babies on their heads there is a musical crecendo and then BOOM cut to the Bank of America logo...makes sense right? well if you dont get the obvious connection between reliable banking and a dialated vagina shooting redbull then you're just not as smart as you thought you were....