Incredibly wired, all caffeined up and no place to go but here and there back and forth to the restroom, draining the instrument of the wiring, the wrung out coffee, cola and iced tea. ICED TEA?!? On a day like this? It’s freezing outside, threatening freezing rain and/ or snow and you are drinking iced tea? Alas, yes, it comes with a complimentary meal arranged by our employer[s] for the dedicated [or poor, depending on one’s perspective] employees who must man this 24 hr / 7 day / 365 per year operation. The meal was much more satisfactory than last year’s dry bird and bland stuffing to be sure.
The paper, such as it was, was done at 4 o’clock. Five thin sections of news and the comics, then the classifieds and then a sections of autos for sale. The remainder of the nine pounds of newsprint I found on my lawn this afternoon dedicated to sale circulars, fodder of the retailer trying to entice me out of my bed at ungodly hours the day after Thanksgiving, hours just as I am retiring to my bed at 4 or 5 a.m., trying to get me to part with my cash that I earn at 2.5 times my normal rate for being here on the holidays; trying to beguile me to feed the monster that I loathe, that crass commercialist / capitalist feeding frenzy known as Christmas. I laugh at the retailers and I scoff at the poor slaves to consumerism who will brave rain and sleet and snow and dead of night to ‘save’ a few Yankee greenback dollars. They’re going to huddle together for warmth in the night, waiting for the opportunity to crush each other and run each other over trying to get to a limited supply of ‘deals.’ Do you NEED that 41 / 50 / 56 inch high definition television? Do your children ‘need’ the ridiculously overpriced latest greatest gaming console to replace the perfectly good and functional last generation one still hooked to your tiny 27 or 31 inch television? DVD players for the car? Back in my day, we barely had a the Sony Walkman to listen to music while on those character building. Clark Griswold-ish long distance drives all over this great land. Make those kids read a book like I had to! Make them look out the window bored at the miles.
I have a lunch break in a few minutes – even though they’ve all ready fed us and there is no place open to explore – no book stores to pick up something new to read; no Best Buy to pick up new sounds for the CD player. No, I’ll try and reach someone far away by dialing out on my calling card. If no one is found, I guess I’ll stare at the news channel spouting on and on about the Primary elections and polling data and all the political B.S. trying to get my interest for an election just under a year from now. I swear I wish there was some incumbent to take the heat off one of the parties, but this election being wide open is making every horse’s rear and his brother throw his hat in the ring. After hearing all this crap for a year all ready and a year to go, I am tempted not to vote for President – just leave that one blank and only vote for Congress, Senate and state offices. Of course, I didn’t vote for anyone for Governor in the last state election and that turned out to be the no-win I suspected. I did have to go vote in the recent bond elections to vote against Prop 15 where Texas will authorize$ 3 BILLION in bonds for cancer research – not the state’s job! – but that passed anyway.
And all this talk of toll roads crisscrossing the Metroplex and of higher tolls at peak hours… Jiminy Christmas! Raise the gas tax and flipping PAY for the road improvements and new roads! Don’t give me this ‘Get there faster by driving in our privatized lanes for .75 for five miles [1.25 at rush hour].’ Infrastructure IS the job of the state! How about $ 3 billion in bonds for road construction?
I get so much, yet so little really done on days like this. Having been in the business a while I know holidays are inherently slow – downloading a little more busy due to trying to arm and disarm systems people have left and not armed or armed with Fido or Socks the cat locked in while stuffing themselves at Grandma’s – that 120 pound Rottweiler will set off the motion detector? But I still grab a couple of books and either load up the MP3 player or the CD player. This year I brought the CDs, figuring I can keep them quiet and not run around with a bud sticking in one ear all night. Curious selections that grabbed my attention: R.E.M. Reckoning [80s garage / alternative/ college radio], Eric Johnson Tones [guitar heroics, but tasteful, not the wanking of a Joe Satriani], Rory Gallagher Tattoo [70s blues rock – wanted another title I only have on vinyl], Joe Jackson [80s Brit pop] and Joe Ely [Texas country rock] collections, Elton John Madman Across the Water [good gloomy day music], Queen Sheer Heart Attack [over the top 70s progressive pop] and Cocteau Twins Milk and Kisses [ethereal]. I still have Lolita in my briefcase [only 50 pages from the end of the sad tale of the twisted Humbert Humbert], but I also grabbed a collection of Truman Capote’s short stories, which will probably be next in the briefcase for daily toting until finished and the 50 pound monster on the LBJ biography I have attacked at various stages of the last few months. I can only take the dry read of politics for a hundred or two hundred pages at a time. So LBJ is now President, and I am just at the halfway mark of the book, but I will go for a week or so, and then put it down to digest it. Of course, I’ve also been distracted from it by Capote and Terry Southern and other tons of light reading…
The one year I wrote the Lester Bangs piece on one long, boring Thanksgiving Day at work. Right now I am only writing the one long piece form my own amusement, an imagined tale of love and lust loosely based on one of those ‘What if…’ questions that dog one in the wee hours.
Why do I dream so much when I am warm under the covers? Since the evenings have turned cooler and I am sleeping under blankets, I am having more dreams – or perhaps I am remembering them more. The other morning I tasted kissed from the improbable female and I felt my blood boiling with each meting of our lips. The intensity of that and then waking up to… I don’t know, my life, I guess. Strange dreams working with old bosses at mixes of old jobs and being lost in one's town and much Heineken drinking and jam sessions at a house that look suspiciously like my Uncle Lou's but in Toronto and getting the girl who looks a lot like Robbie Siegler.