...My name is Tigger Niglet, and I live down the road from Christopher "31 Flavors" Baskin-Robin in Storybrook, California, near the Mendocino Mountains (Surely you know of local archvillainess Clara Bell, often joked about stupidly by your fellow New Yorker Kristen Wiig? But I digress...)
I beg for things as cleverly as possible, and always have paper towels in hand with my glass cleaning spray whenever I occasion to jump on a motherfucker's windshield, but I've never been successful enough to afford your shoes -- not even in jest!
But if I could, I'd like to ask you for a pair of size 8 1/2 men's hightops, in red vermillion lacquer (maybe bits of black showing through, Japanese-style?); with Imperial Yellow soles, laces and inners? I would rock them at least twice a week for years!
***
I think about Mikey a lot. I think about... What if he was horribly disfigured by burn scars, like the Marine mechanics who survived that serious accidental ordnance explosion or whatever on the tarmac at Travis a few months ago? I know I'd still want him, no matter what (yes, physically...)
707 USMC Mikey, where art thou??? Waaah...
***
[DECISIVELY]: "Get Jason Bourne -- at once!"
ANALYST [INSTANTLY CRINGING]: "Um, ma'am, then maybe you shouldn't have initiated exclusionary protocols... Are you really sure you want to go crawling on your hands and knees to Mr. Bourne now? After all that?"
(Honestly, Leah, Jo, et alia: what the fuck do those movies *do* with Joan Allen, anyway?)
***
San Franciscans and guests of San Francisco who will be in the City: several tours seem to be scheduled for visitors to tour Salesforce Tower. This one is sold out (still points to a waiting list), but check around for others, or make your own not-exactly-#disrupty attempts at meandering through it. At 326 meters tall, it's a pretty notable new landmark, and who knows? In any sort of collapse event, it might be one of America's new Towers of David! Exciting, to muse on the post-apocalyptic, n'est pas?
(photo by William R. Way, on an LG flip phone, end of September, 2017)
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"I SWEAR BY THE [UNINTELLIGIBLE] -- SWEAR [GRUMBLE]" Hey, it ain't Richard III. Try doing Charles II instead - but you better hurry, before he goes out the window!
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Today is Sunday, and I may yet prevail upon my soon-to-be-dearly-departed-so-I-had-better-spoil-her mother to lend me the car that I may attend (Methodist? I think so...) services at the local community church -- just to be a sport, ya dig?
(Please join me in gassho, and... Namo Amida Butsu!)
This is de-lovely - fell out of an H&M suit of my brother's I ended up donating. I love it - some repurposed thin sweater, emblazoned with a kicky Starbuck's packaging patch in the shape of a dove... A pouch equipped with a loop for hanging, a fabric envelope the closure of which is fashioned with a several millimeter-in-diameter brass button. Chic to me.
I'm inspired by this and an heirloom collection of costume jewelry and unpierced-ear earrings (motherfucker snatched at your earring, because some such thinking of starting a fight smart? Bitch, as the surprise register's on that cunt's face... HIT A FUCKING EYEBALL!! GO GO GO!). Anyway... Really inspired, I say, to open an etsy shop showcasing beautiful things I've come into that you can't have because they're not for sale anyway.... Move it along, gawper!
GUESS WHAT I USE THIS IMITATION 3RD-WORLD BEAUTY AS?
ちゃうんじょ... もちろんたばこのさいふじょ!ふふふ~
(⁄ ⁄>⁄ ▽ ⁄<⁄ ⁄)
(As always, please if your ducats or dubloons demand you dispose of them, please do so to the right sidebar: gofundme, venmo or paypal. CHUU SHITE CHUUUU! CHOUDAI KARA OKEI?)
“If they can get you asking the wrong questions, they don't have to worry about answers.” - Thomas Pynchon
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RIP Chuckles Manson: say "Hi" - won't you? - to Sharon Tate in that great mass grave we call "Heaven..." I'll sing some Aaron Schust for you...
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As ever, look to the right sidebar under "William R. Way," and notice that I'm accepting donations at Gofundme.com (for housing); and Paypal.me and Venmo.com (for various and sundries, including my prescription needs/drug problem.)
San Francisco: Financial District, Civic Center (Asian Art Museum and City Hall in lights after dark.)
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Many of us see at least our spam folders (and plenty, our inboxes), flooded with e-mails our good sense knows originate with those who have no compunction about defrauding the well-intentioned, the (for whatever reason) embarrassed, the hard-up, the isolated or lonely, those who are not yet wise to the tricks employed, or those who are developmentally disabled or aren't yet mature.
These criminals seem to operate without conscience, and seem to think doing wrong turns to the vulnerable is acceptable; they rely on public apathy and the reputation law enforcement and the government often have for an unwillingness or failure to act.
If you or a loved one has been taken in by any such scam (and the scammers might be in another state), please know that plenty of people and organizations are around to offer their assistance. Here are a few contact options:
IT IS MOST IMPORTANT THAT YOU NOT BE DISCOURAGED BY ANY CONTACT YOU HAVE WITH OTHERS IN WHICH YOU ARE TOLD YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER, AND DO NOT BE SHAMED: MOCKERY OR UNWILLINGNESS TO HELP ON THE PART OF THOSE YOU TALK TO IS NOT THE FINAL WORD - KEEP TRYING. IF THAT HAPPENS WITH LAW ENFORCEMENT, INSIST ON SPEAKING WITH ANY SUPERIORS, CALL BACK, WRITE TO THOSE DEPARTMENTS OR INDIVIDUALS HANDLING OVERSIGHT. YOU KNOW WRONG FROM RIGHT, AND YOU DESERVE JUSTICE.
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The rest of Sunday better be a breeze. Tons of lamb from Jenny U. (yay!), might bother Joyce next door for some of those ripe olives so I might cure them (I prefer salt to lye, myself), and... IF YOU'RE FEELING SINISTER, JUST LOVE BELLE AND SEBASTIAN RIFFING, OR FOR ANY OTHER REASON (SPITE IS A GOOD ONE, AMONG OTHERS), FEEL FREE TO DONATE TO MY GOFUNDME, PAYPAL, OR VENMO LINKS TO THE RIGHT-->>
Downtown, Salesforce Tower (formerly Transbay Tower) in the background. (I saw Mark Zuckerberg himself right around the time I took this shot - about 2 or 3 AM!)
The hidden machinery that runs the cable cars from under the street!
.:UoOoU:.
Ohayou gozaimasu, errybody! (And special hellos to Bernie, Riley, and Mikey, the boy I want to marry.)
Blueprints for a two-bedroom house, courtesy of Robert McGraw (RIP), as a possible floorplan for whatever replaces the current hovel - more on that from my younger brother...
Is it rambutan season already? (And don't eat the seeds, pendejo!)
Agapanthus foliage, for random soothingness...
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Necesito una de esas bicicletas de ONE-SPEED de $100 Walmart está vendiendo! Jajaja!
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Hugh Hefner, passed beyond the veil to the other side of a better place called a euphemism for HE DEAD, BITCHES at 91 godforsaken years old.
Bless your stinky little heart, mummy man of tittyland
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Hey, Madison Avenue! I love this for a pitch for a 20-second spot
[BG MUSIC: Everly Brothers]
[JUMPY, ACTION-PACKED: High-speed hovercraft chase through the bayou - law enforcement in hot pursuit of a dapper, 30-ish man.
[CUT TO: THE SUN IS EARLY AFTERNOON, BUT IT IS STILL AND TENSE: Adrienne Barbeau on a dock; she needs something, and is looking at her watch.]
[CUT BACK: Young man achieves his goal and delivers the goods; law enforcement gets a look at the meeting as they come up hot on his six, and thinks better of finishing their collar... Back to Ms. Barbeau, who looks visibly relieved; whatever it was she needed, whatever it was the young man risked so much to bring, is the product; cut to graphics - EN FIN]
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Courtesy of the good folks at Newsweek: The people of Puerto Rico need the following: potable water, pharmaceuticals, diesel, toiletries, and more. Send help! https://t.co/zguEsSTOT7
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On the sidebar, please note I am running a Gofundme campaign and have a Venmo account, should any donations be forthcoming... Thanks!
The loss of Puerto Rican crops this year is a harsh reminder of a history lesson I remember from going to school in Japan: Rice *is* LIFE! Do please find your favorite Puerto Rico relief effort, and donate what you can! (I know this might distract from my own personal blegs, as not only do I have the Way family's housing issues to consider - my own part in them - I am currently broke and wouldn't mind a little sum'n-sum'n ticked my way on Venmo.com to user William-Way-5. But this first paragraph's for the people put out this hurricane season....)
こめ - "ko-meh" - 米rice
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Note to Mrs. Chris Isaak of the Outer Sunset (Bai Ling, or 白靈): On-trend on the W. Coast FOR HER include silk, skinny denim, light statement jackets, nautical themes, athletica, (for our people) leatherette accessories, and bold patterns.
Dressing the Mister? Slim button-ups (short-sleeve and with a factotum tie is tres happening), light statement jackets (maybe denim or a varsity starter for a young look), dark slim denim (my Han-Yi brand jeans pictured below give you an idea of hue, but I'm 40-somethingay and go for skinny rather than slim), again with the bold patterns, early 2000s dot-com era backpacks and shoulder bags, and again with the nautical themes (keep those docksiders!) All advice courtesy of the bold young men and women who sacrifice so much for their country... AT CROSSROADS TRADING CO., OF COURSE!
Hot Fashion! You are fashion and style!
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(@ #USMC #Mikey): It's been a while since I sent first a letter, then a postcard, to the good people at Quantico; I've heard neither from them (which I would have), nor from you, young Mikey - you should know multiple ways of contacting me by now... But it doesn't mean of course what I'm supposed to think it means; some people really are stupid in their malice - it's a good thing you enlisted and saved their lives thereby. Without both your risk-taking and especially my own, truly volunteered, life-long civilian help, they would have drowned in the fucking rain by now, they're so damn dumb...
But enough about poisonous people and the shit they do to us... I long to live with you, and you can do my pedicures, and I'll squeeze the blackheads on your back; I'll cook good food, and you and your boys can watch those stupid movies and play video games... I want us to run away together to Alameda, or San Diego...
...Or have you taken your papers and walked? I still and will always want you... Find me, and let's work it out!
***
I would love for the situation centered around ALL-TOO-CLOSE-IN-PROXIMITY neighbors to be cute as some rom-com starring Johnny Depp and Mary Stuart Masterson, but it's not. These folks are, like, totally "Yikes! Zoinks! Jinkies!" Heebie-jeebies all around, with really offensive hijinks to boot. (Eso es lo que pasa: I'm talking about the brujo and his sneering, heroin-chic, heather leather-and-woodchips, walking-dead wife.)
EMPHATICALLY DISLIKE. Oomph in the emphasis. (Okay, I like the man personally, but I find him untrustworthy and prone to suspect behavior; as for her, my heathenness comes out, and I find myself terribly averse to the living dead - SHE'S A FRICKIN' CORPSE ALREADY! NOT COOL TO HAVE AROUND, AS I AM TRYING TO ENJOY A REAL LIFE HERE, GET MARRIED AND AM ENTITLED! I AM MALE BRIDEZILLA IN THIS!)
***
In fourth grade, at the long-demolished-IIRC-due-to-redistricting Woodrow Wilson Elementary in Richmond, California, there was a little blonde girl, Summer. One fine fall day, a bunch of us boys banded together to bully her white-trash ass: we stole a teardrop-shaped, amber-colored hard plastic bauble from her, then kicked it around the asphalt playground - in the process, scratching it up horribly. She cried, and I think it was Sheldon, or Hunter, or I (or maybe even a teacher, or one of the indomidable girl trio of Christina - unlikely - or Leah or Katie... Anyway...) who prevailed upon the rest to go to her and individually apologize once we learned that her dad had made the pretty, precious thing FOR HER EXPRESSLY while incarcerated.
Only today do I realize he had crafted her, at great risk to his few liberties and privileges, a blade; he gifted it to his little girl (perhaps by proxy, through the mom or other family) to use it as a weapon should some sonofabitch mess with her (we are talking '84 or '85.)
But of course, all she knew was that it was something beautiful her jailbird dad had created for his baby girl - she did not at all immediately see in it something to ARM herself in some - heaven forfend - MERCENARY fashion. Nor did I, for that matter, until this very writing today, and I've always loved blades and cutting edges [FULL DISCLOSURE: I was raised by a former sailor who was a staunch Second Amendment Dad.]
My point is, it just goes to show you about certain "evil voices" - voices I've perceived and the source of which, communicated with - and the occasional philosophy behind them: that poor character comes from impoverished stock.
...So one thing led to another, and suddenly Phyllis' eyeball was out of her socket, and John Adams took a knee to the groin from Buffy the Vampire Slayer...
"Be not intimidated; nor suffer yourselves to be wheedled out of your liberties by any pretense of politeness, delicacy, or decency. These, as they are often used, are but three different names for hypocrisy, chicanery and cowardice." - John Adams
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NEXT WEEK: My Shanghai trickery and Fukien shenanigans reveal a Swedish mystery, as well as a Danish delight!
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Really cool list of resources on my latest Gofundme update, if anyone's in the 530 area code and shopping for kit homes. (Even if you don't donate to our family's cause, thanks for reading!)
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My new band name: David Attenborough and the Tralfamadorians... (It was a toss up between that toss-off and, "Tyrone and the Meth," but nobody gets the Tyrone-to-Gravity's Rainbow reference.)
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Finishing up (.pdf) my exhibit for the Stonyford Museum's rock collection, then going underneath the house today... Will report back after noon!
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Gal Gadot! What trouble you must have got in with SAG for that initial $300K on the WW shoot! Wow, it must have taken all your Israeli diplomacy and mad politics-in-the-IDF-and-at-school skillz to pull that one over on them...
Black plums to blackberries; Meyer lemons to Bing cherries... From 19th Street to Roosevelt and back: has any other had my childhood haunts? Dogshit and ghost poop, then crabgrass, juniper, and kingsfoil through the fern-framed North gate... In the front, on the sidewalk, bottlebrush to stick to your shoes blossoms - little and red... (Apologies to Alanis for being another to call her on list-like writing...)
And one day, Arnold took off for where I'd been, knowing I'd have left hearts. On his way to collect those hearts, Arnold got killed, they told me. It was very sad. I was very sad. Everybody was very sad. The details as relayed to me were fuzzy -- just something that happened. Arnold was a baby. I still miss you, Arnold.
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I might be seeing a lawyer about an affidavit regarding my years as a TNDC tenant on the 5th -- for sure I'm seeing the psychiatrist about my diagnoses, as well as about that 2014 MRI, which medical records assure us was "unremarkable." We'll need to talk definitely about Chantix, as nothing else has helped me quit cigarettes!
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With this kind of weather in May, it'll be a wonder if we here in Colusa and Glenn counties don't see thunderstorms in July or August, maybe -- murie sing cuccu.
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So European! American Spirit Black are over $10 per pack at the Stonyford General Store -- but the two-for-a-dollar Swishers are still as marked! (I tend to favor the blueberry when it comes to the latter.)
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Cleaned that Perry Ellis linen suit of Eric's. Funny enough, with a little pressing, it fits me just fine. I'll look positively fabulous with it and an ice-cold bottle of Ruffino, whether at the lake or at the top of the 19th Street stairs! If only I can find those damn Nico Nerinis; they're probably hidden somewhere in a friend's garage.
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The very word "Dunkirk" fills me with a vast sorrow and an aching keen; that's the title of a movie about the WWI battle coming out this summer.
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Apparently, Mr. McMillon in Bentonville gave the go-ahead for me to be corrected by Walmart staff as though I'm a Dorothy Allison creation whenever I'm in the Willows store (#02053). My mother dutifully misplaced her receipt, so I'm not sure if "Marc" with a "C" (who uses his smartphone as a weapon against the possible legion of Nova Lee Nations out there) was on the receipt last week. (In addition, I despair of ever finding that damn football-themed gift card sent me by Ryan in Clackamas, OR.) Who knows what non-fun will take place on the AM of May 24th? Really, I just wanted to be fairly compensated or paid off for what's square.
The Master said, "I can talk all day long with Yan Hui without him once disagreeing with me. In this way, he seems a bit stupid. And yet when we retire and I observe his private behavior, I see that it is in fact worthy to serve as an illustration of what I have taught. Hui is not stupid at all."
...If that helps explain anything to some of you still solving a years-long mystery vis-a-vis yours truly (no shame in that, rest assured.) And by the way: "I can handle reality in small doses, but as a lifestyle, it's much too confining." - Lily Tomlin
I come from a tradition, the rules of which include: hydrate or die, sleep is not the enemy, eat or else, you can always add to but never take away from, they can't really hurt you, and pull it together when others are falling out. Over the last few decades, I've done pretty well at observing said rules, and they've saved my life and my sanity. Still, my origins mean I've had occasional run-ins I've thought are too bad with those (particularly medical professionals and cops) whose rules include catch, hold and release; partition (fences make good neighbors); and never let on that you hear voices. An unfortunate friction, and a gap I've always wished I could bridge... Ah, tristesse!
P.S. I admit I've always felt a bit of resentment that neither the DEA, SFPD's vice division, nor other authorities inclined towards shitty, immature behavior ever created false profiles for yours truly on methy hook-up sites for the sake of defamation. I really could have used a little edge to my goody two-shoes reputation. Where's the love, guys?
P.P.S. I never did figure out the point of all those pocket lasers and wide-angle, telescopic shots. Why are you waiting for me to be ready for my close-up?
P.P.P.S. I never did follow up on precisely what emerged when Frankie and company worked me over in order to open the gates of hell a few years back. Let's hope it was nothing more than an exhausted Virgil towing Dante and Beatrix to an ice cream shop downtown.
P.P.P.S. Hey Naomi, sorry about the ROSEMARY'S BABY joke. One shouldn't make that reference to pregnant tweakers.
P.P.P.P.S. Overall, I've got to say my verdict at this point is, "Awful program, Frankie: nobody likes to look at splatter."
God, that program sucked. It really fucked up a lot of good crazy people (and not a few normal, employed, and well-adjusted people) in the Tenderloin. I haven't been in it for over a year now, but it's still fresh in my memory. We were all fighting for ourselves, but of course, we're human -- we were also doing our best to fight for each other. A woman speeding by on her Hoveround in the other direction yelled at them to get off me. Some nice schizophrenic yelled angrily on my behalf at the people on me. And I for my part devastated with an untraceable twist of the knife those assholes that so many women on the street cry about and accuse of mind-rape. (Glad, by the way, that I could do my part.) Really, how could it have happened? Yet it did.
Personally, I think the worst for me was the temporarily successful assault on mirth itself. That really killed something in me for a moment there. But it seemed like most people were pissed off about the attacks on natural sexuality. "Don't mess with the deed!" some brave ex-convict yelled on Eddy Street, and I was with him. I mean, hosing down poor people who are coupling? That's pretty fucking ugly, and somebody needs to pay hard for that.
(An aside: I know a lot of people thought I was the most put-upon, worst hurt by that shitty situation, but I assure you all that I'm tough, and if anyone can take the hits, I can. Anyway, I survived -- there a those who didn't. It was deadly in some cases.)
I've got to say, the anti-sexual components of that evil program had a real-world effect that violated everything good and right in a person. I remember going to Steamworks in Berkeley, getting messed with, and trying to watch those "Active Duty" videos on the computer. The porn made me overwhelmingly sad and depressed, and I blame that weird, sociopath-administrated (though I don't blame Frankie -- he wouldn't have done it on his own), wasteful, and poorly thought-out psychic torture.
The pornography is inherently fun. This dude who goes by "Dink" invites good-looking Marines and soldiers over to drink beer, smoke some meth, and fuck each other on camera (while he does rather unfortunate but ignorable monotone voice-overs and direction.) Those videos are very popular in the gay world.
But that night, I looked at the fine-ass grunts and watched their dorky, hot antics, and all I could feel was this crippling sense of grief. Boy, that program is fucked up.
(Sorry if I outed any of you retarded jarheads. I fucking love you guys, but in recent years you're always pulling that shit where you flirt and don't follow through -- I owe you one lol.)
♫ Be careful what you wish for
It might come true
Somebody might up and give
You to you
Then you'll see
How much it hurts to be
(You had no idea
So much comes for free)♫
- From the upcoming musical, "The Twisted Tweaker From 602," a show nobody has reviewed as Hunter S. Thompson's bats gone retarded.
This Thanksgiving I'm curling up with my favorite holiday movie -- one in which Diana Ross has all sorts of adventures in a magical realm. No, I'm not talking about THE WIZ. I'm talking about MAHOGANY (1975). Mahogany was such a mean, hateful bitch. Does she get her comeuppance? Is there a happy end? You have to watch to find out. My favorite quotes:
"I'm a winner, baby. You're a loser." To Billy Dee Williams.
"My saints are a camera and a gun. They're both fiercely truthful." Sean
I hate Mahogany. I'd love to see her get her just desserts.
