...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)
***
"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!
***
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!)
Don't let this brief Indian Summer fool you: now is the time to help out where possible - several people die of exposure just in Northern California every winter...
These are five agencies in San Francisco alone I've given to in the past. There are others who desperately need your assistance in Sacramento, Redding, Napa and elsewhere if you can...
./=v_^_v=\.
Anyone for a national referendum in which we vote whether or not to "quarantine" Betty Price?
./=v_^_v=\.
SOOPER IMPORTANT ALERT!!! Watch out for a relatively new postal scam, in which your mail is forwarded without your knowledge... Perps, when caught, still get the obligatory five years in the penitentiary, IIRC...
./=v_^_v=\.
Tech Tuesdays, October 24, there's a bunch of helpful information on getting your rear in gear with regards to the new normal of the Internet. Save the date!
./=v_^_v=\.
Plus.google.com/+WilliamWay has an adult entertainment portal that has received warnings, and to Google I have appealed... Nevertheless, I do not directly feature pornography; rather, I showcase links to pornography and entertainment that is to be used by adults as a masturbatory or sexual aid... Get it while it's hot! (The latest, Joe Schmoe Videos, is too good to pass up!)
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
***
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]
***
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
***
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
***
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!
***
(@ #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...
The Taoist sorcery embodied by the Ecuadorian witch's dead-woman-walking-talking-sneering-and-shrinking wife has kind of got me in this idea of making the most of a situation: I want to get married, so maybe I should post a bunch of pictures of already deceased shit that ought not be saying overmuch to the living:
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And it was a beautiful day in the neighborhood:
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My Big Blue response to this shit (just used the MySFHealth portal last week, and it is STILL a bad joke... *AHEM*, Mr. Mark Zuckerberg): http://bit.ly/2xqHLd5
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Really cool new update on my Gofundme site (please give whatever you can - thanks!), and be sure in that vein to check out a few updates prior, the one with the wonderful list of kit home manufacturers in the NorCal area... (So four items in my Caen-like three-dot column? That's deathy enough for me!)
Second attempt with rough-puff pastry making tarts... Making apple, blueberry (the filling's got Pendell's mountain honey from Stonyford, CA, where I am still stuck! Anyway, good to be stuck here as I usually am -- don't listen to the deputies, as theirs are the asses usually not up here; the upside of being "the Personification of Misinformation" is that I know my own truth, and the horse's mouth... -- and Pendell's has the enzymes I need, as well as the anti-allergy properties that help, particularly during spring, summer, and early autumn... I HAVE FOR ALL INTENTS AND PURPOSES BEEN STUCK HERE IN HEAVEN FOR 2 YEARS GRUMBLE GRUMBLE...)
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余やそなたら,買いは入らない
このうちはびんぼうなものなんだ
***
Been told in a dream I could get my man killed just by wanting him, by loving him, by wanting to see him before I die, so no begging today...
***
Fucked-up mole (smells tangier than it is; about to be strained; added some blueberries, honey this go-round -- just ate the dregs 0929 PT, and if I may say so: BEEYOTCH, IT IS DA SAUCE, TOO MUCH FOR SOME!):
(A scarecrow's portion -- Thanks, Krakowski, for the title of your latest mystery novel! -- goes to Walmart #02053 for fucking up kids in your employ, and for getting rid of the best people for the wrongiest reasons, for misusing your awesomest employees, and for forgetting that WE ALL KNOW YOU PEOPLE HAVE WALMEX TO THANK FOR THE FACT THAT YOUR UGLY, ANTEBELLUM ASSES ARE STILL IN BUSINESS! Salud!)
And if I don't get to see a certain Angela: Yes, I wanted to kill you in a reflexive instant, but thank the angels that never happened.... At a point, I was even proud of the fact that I should have stomped on you in the back of Protestant (!) church that one time, had it not been for God and the methylamphetamine I was on.... You would have been happy -- maybe? -- that not a conspiracy of hatred was doing you in.... Let's grow up, shall we? Both of us, I mean! Just keep your shoes off the bed, and your bag off the floor, and good will come to you -- life doesn't have to be hell... Besame mucho.
Anyway, the mole is sitting in my fridge as of pressing "PUBLISH," and I don't want it to break down any more! (Though I'm pretty sure it's settled and can be fridged for a week to a fortnight....)
A prayer for the 98,000 refugees come out of N. Africa now surviving in Italy... Best to them (your help is appreciated, Tia Madonna C. - I know you've been all up on that.)
Still living in -- not even the sticks, right Leone? -- Stonyford, north of Clearlake, I find myself out of touch with the City I called home for decades, but whatever's going on with Telegraph Hill's famousJulius Castle, I've concocted my own (NON-ALCOHOLIC! HARRUMPH!) "Orange Julius Castle," when I availed myself during grocery shopping of a good price on Ghirardelli chocolate sauce: one part OJ, one part cream, a visible dollop of the aforementioned sauce -- served just poured, sans ice; and with a swizzle or mixing fork.
Look at my tiny olive tree! Last year, I was able to harvest a handful, pit them, and cure them. They turned out to be very rich...
This year, I've put very rich compost on, and am expecting a larger harvest... So delicious!
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Reducing, exercising, getting some color... (Thank god for methylamphetamine, as well, LOL... Don't I love to party!) Abs and chest looking good... Almost quit smoking...
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On the back: "Wilson Jack. Swansons? Wood. Ed Laplant. Irvin Bowlin? Shorty." - Robert George McGraw (my grandfather), Omaha or Lincoln, Nebraska, 1947-49
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Joyce's Whispering Pines... Still working on the museum's lapidary display for her in Stonyford (95979)
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Still asking for Housing Help... Walmart has yet to pay me off adequately for that fucking contaminated meat... Stay tuned...
Me in the ET shirt and Eric in the Osh Kosh at - that's right - East Park in '82 or '83.
Dad in '92 or '93 with Firecracker (who's now with Brusseau the Younger, and lives right up the road -- I should visit her before she dies of old age...)
...
我还没死
...
A couple of good causes I'd like to link to this post: Americans for Cures, because the stem cell revolution is here, and as I write this, two acquaintances (at least) are fighting cancer. And UNHCR, whom I've mentioned before, but crises continue; for example, scads of children flee gang violence in El Salvador, Guatemala and Honduras every day as I write this.
...
He's turning 30 this year (I think), or 29, and moves pretty fast (because the Corps doesn't, as I understand it...) So maybe he's a full-blown Corporal already? Way to go, Sir Mikesalot -- you were never meant to be a terminal E3. (I still want to chew your face off, pretty boy. MARRY ME!)
"Nefelibata" in the Portuguese, since I'm more or less stuck in the North Valley along this part of the 1-5... Until I get insurance as a licensed driver, that is, and have rebuilt my credit (and have money in the bank.)
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There are over 20 million people living in slavery worldwide. And with global unrest the way it is -- Athens recalling 1960s Paris (but of course, still Greek in 2017), Caracas on fire, North Africa fled from by refugees willing to risk death in the Mediterranean -- the chattel industry IS EXTREMELY UNHELPFUL in its existence. People may not "own" people. Slavery is an abomination.
One newer group that's stood out: www.thriverescue.org. People who've been victims of trafficking and exploitation need help, and that's where Thrive Rescue comes in.
...
Recipe time: Rough Puff Pastry
1 to 1.1 cups strong plain flour (high gluten content)
1 tsp fine sea salt
1 cup butter, at room temperature, but not soft
about .63 cups cold water
Sift the flour and salt into a large bowl. Roughly break the butter in small chunks, add them to the bowl and rub them in loosely. You need to see bits of butter.
Make a well in the bowl and pour in about two-thirds of the cold water, mixing until you have a firm rough dough adding extra water if needed. Cover with cling film and leave to rest for 20 mins in the fridge.
Turn out onto a lightly floured board, knead gently and form into a smooth rectangle. Roll the dough in one direction only, until 3 times the width, about 20 x 50cm. Keep edges straight and even. Don’t overwork the butter streaks; you should have a marbled effect.
Fold the top third down to the center, then the bottom third up and over that. Give the dough a quarter turn (to the left or right) and roll out again to three times the length. Fold as before, cover with cling film and chill for at least 20 mins before rolling to use.
[ed. This stuff is good for handpies and tarts, esp.]
- Courtesy of Gordon Ramsay and Little England Herself
Loyal-for-a-lifetime in the lifelong civilian idiom still ISO that squee E3 reservist from Napa whom I met several times on O'Farrell in San Francisco - name of Mikey. Semper fidelis, meet me, semper laetus.
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My instagram account is all about living critters - mostly those on four, six, eight or more legs. Sometimes on two, though - but that's usually just me.
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Randomesia, dearest cashieress to Jeremiah Johnson and the gods of country people who want it both ways, be so kind as to count my nickels before I fill a sock with them and go upside somebody's head -- I NEED TOBACCO, WOMAN!
Experiencing life difficulties due to Mom's sciatica blow-out... Am taking her to Colusa for a follow-up to the recent Glenn Medical ER visit... Wish me luck!
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Coming to a Hot Topic t-shirt nowhere near my intolerant black ass...
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My plausibly deniable, imaginary boyfriend's name is Mike. He's from Napa and is a Lance Corporal in the United States Marine Corps (reserve). His code name with the CIA is Sweet Pea. WHISKEY BRAVO GORGONZOLA!!! HUH GUYS?
I want to be friends and meet, especially with odd darlings and cool cats I've as yet barely encountered (but such presences they are in their essentials!), and I don't deny myself the just desserts due me -- not that by the very nature of what's going on I could screw my own pooch, at least in the renumeration department (there would have to be some -- gasp! -- inimical, highly effective, indominable conspiracy afoot... I just have a difficult time thinking this is merely the dark before the dawn, the cloud whose silver lining is not yet apparent...
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UPCOMING: The big ol' shindig for the Willie B. apartments in the Western Addition. Hopefully, they're less into this and that -ism and by which they hardcore discriminated against prospective tenants (wanting a vague "this-or-that" specific demographic they could serve, and have their own way, even as they received public funding, including from HUD.) They certainly never should have #displaced yours truly in violation of every common understood protection for SF renters, not without ample assurance from whatever boneheaded quarter they needed to that I would adequately and conveniently be dead soon after TNDC unethically and senselessly (and illegally?) evicted me... (It never did make sense as to why they rented 212 at the Alexander to me to begin with, and let me stay for 4 1/2 years.)
(BTW, I think there's some affidavit I have to sign in the City and County, perhaps at the Superior Court on Grove -- with or without an attorney? I'm not sure... Anyway, I wonder if this has something to do with my former landlord -- I ain't fixin' to be Elle Woods up in here. I know a lot of people have been mum on some huge issue surrounding me; Lord knows, I'm supposed to be taking some sort of hint on that. All so vague and weird... Oh, well, I'll pop in at the court as soon as I can make it to the City -- it is sort of a hardship to travel... Maybe I'll get there by July 24th?)
...
"Wait, is there some 'principle of the thing' about me and my so-far lifelong frequent poverty and privation, and that those involved are investing themselves in an hideously irritating, so-maddening-as-to-induce-homicidal-rage 'point' in arranging my situation (one that includes a timing component)? Is that why I'm being piously fucked over by some de facto conspiracy? Or is someone unduly taking out on me the fact that I read -- for pleasure! -- Foucault's Pendulum by Umberto Eco my senior year in high school?"
...
Still prone on occasion to auditory illusion voices, emotional stuff... I'm at my most hurtful, perhaps, when I can't take something for what it by virtue of being what it is as a promise... My nature is perverse insofar that I know: whether human or divine, assurances are unfortunately ironic.
So of course I've made a total fool out of myself, rushing to disclose what among my circle of friends was probably common knowledge anyway, just because the SF Department of Public Health's "remote medical record checking for the Muppet Babies and us" is rather janky.... Just too much dark stuff has happened in too recent a time....
Basically, I had only to read the FAQ (coded in Comic Sans, natch) to know that HIV status and numbers, and other love bug info from one's blood work -- that stuff is not available except through face-to-face with one's provider (a real departure from the old, much-missed MyHero portal.)
I'm sure Val thinks that's hilarious.... But what's the point of providing Ward 86 patients with accounts (mine was first introduced to me last year, and no special mention that HIV or other STD info would not be available through the portal)? (Also, how long will General's Building 80 host the AIDSY, the undocumented, and those whining their best Chloe Webb-at-the-end-of-SID AND NANCY impressions downstairs, as well as Urgent Care on the first floor? Not much longer, I'm sure -- not with Zuckerberg's name on everything.)
Of course, the readers I really care about are the ones who can probably rest easy knowing my viral load remains undetectable, and my CD4 count is fantastic (and since we divulged -- don't you love my blood work? Pretty healthy, n'est pas?)
...
With that big lede out of the way, I now bring you lovely pics of this weekend's weeds and volunteers:
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Still a catch (ever swing it my way, Boom? Or maybe Trueluck's still out there, sexy and stuff... I tell you, guys love my Claude Rains impression -- it totally gets them hard! Hard in the penis region!
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And keep an eye out for me on Patreon -- I told them my focus is on photography, but there's lots of creative stuff I do, and I'd love to synergize... Maybe with a fractureme.com "store"? (Thanks for the inspiration in re fractureme, "Bernie"... Hearts!)
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.
...
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.
...
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.
