JACKIE MARTLING'S HOUSES

For some reason (actually, I know the reason) I keep searching for pix of Jackie Martling's houses online. The crew would bust on him so much for his "shacks". I get these images of outhouses with antennas sticking out of the roof. The only things I've found are the addresses (under John Martling and the other is Off Hour Rockers) which are, indeed, three houses from one another. Howard and Robin claim that his residential dwelling has no backyard; just a side lot with 2 feet of lawn. I've seen aerial photos and found this to be true. It's as if a house was turned sideways to make it fit onto the lot - if it could really be referred to as a lot.

Also, they've said that the 'garage' was converted into a recording studio. Howard referred to it as a shed; in fact, every time he talked about the houses he would call them 'dumb little houses' on 'garbage dumps'. It's kind of hard to get a proper measurement of square feet from the aerial shot, but it looks as though it's a barn/garage that was converted into a house after the property was split up.

His other 'house' is his office. From the air, this looks like a small town ice cream stand. Howard said that all of Jackie's recording gear is set up here, and that one cannot move around since it's 'jammed in'. He's also said that there's a TV that's 'right on top of his eyeballs.' Stuttering John said that Jackie put an extension to the side of the building for the TV. Podunk indeed!

Funny as hell!

FRAGMENTS

THESE ARE FRAGMENTS

I was watching Artie Lang on the Stern Show, and the others were giving him a hard time about his habit of lying just to placate other people in his life. The chief one was that he was going to therapy two times a week when in fact, he ditched it after one visit. A compulsive liar? A habitual liar? A chronic liar? Some information on the web says there’s no such thing. I disagree. I worked with one back in the early 90’s. Here’s his deal (in fragments of course):

 Around 1990, I worked as part of a maintenance crew at an apartment complex. There were three of us; the apartment manager, the compulsive liar, and myself. This guy was rather large and muscular, with afro type curly hair and no teeth. We would meet every morning to go over the pile of work orders; repairs that needed to be done and prepping  vacant apartments so they could be shown to prospective tenants. We would bullshit about other things as well.

One morning we were talking about a plane crash that happened out on the East coast. The manager was an amateur boxer and he was telling us about a harrowing flight he took on his way to a match . A hurricane had moved inland and the plane was fighting to stay above the clouds. It was then that The Compulsive Liar claimed he had never flown.

During another bull session we were talking about army and the war. It was then The Compulsive Liar stated that he flew helicopters in Vietnam. OK. So he’s never flown. How the fuck did he get to ‘Nam? Swim? Took a boat? He’d rather be at the controls of a chopper than fly a plane? It was then every story he’d ever told became suspect. Whatever topic came up, he’d had an experience with it. One summer, the manager hired a temp - a college kid - to help with the overload of work we had. We’d goof on The Compulsive Liar - behind his back of course. 

One thing we were sure that he’d done in his past; he was a carpet installer. His former employer was contracted by the complex to be their chief carpet man. The process would go as follows: The Liar would take the company pickup to a carpet retailer, stack the rolls in the bed of the truck and drive them to the complex. What we learned later is that he didn’t have a license and before he’d pick the rolls up, he would spend a few hours at his hangout - a dive bar around the corner from where he lived.

I really have no idea why I’m writing about this. One episode of the Life of Artie Lang led to it. I guess. I don’t know. I’m tired of thinking and writing in coherent sentences. Since I don’t plan to make a career out of writing, then why the fuck should I care?

ACCIDENTS, ACCIDENTS

Cousin Johnny was nearly in a head on by a car who crossed into the oncoming lane. My first reaction was this: let's go find out who this is, where they live, and go do some shit stomping. OK, that's a knee jerk reaction. I don't fantasize about doing something like that. That's old timey talk; Italian talk. Mob talk, even though none of my family is mob (note no capital for that word, save for the beginning of the sentence. Wise guys kill their own mothers if the boss tells them to).

What a fucking nightmare that must be. Sister went - and is still going - through the same shit; the psychological repercussions of such a shocking incident. 

But I understand how the rug can be pulled out from under you. Fucking seizure I had caused by new medication. Waking up on the bathroom floor with Charlie the cat fanging at my toe. He knew something was wrong and was trying to bring me out of it. Then there's the bleeding from the ulcer. How much blood did I lose? Put it this way: I was given transfusions for a week and a half.

Awhile ago, I was trying to figure out which hospital stay was worse: the one after the seizure or after the upper GI bleed. Obviously, both stays were bad. In the hospital after the seizure, I was waking up every two hours screaming -night terrors from having bad reaction to pain killing medication. From the GI bleed episode, I wasn't told the results of the biopsy they did on my upper intestine - until the fucking day I was checked out!

But this is bringing me back to my 'pain journal' days. I printed hard copies of them a long time ago but threw most of them out. I have a hard enough time moving forward. With anything.

I WAS JUST TESTING RSS FEED

cuz facebook don't have no blog feature. This feels like I'm doing a news feed from overseas, like the pirate boats off Somalia saga.

Anyway, I was looking at pix of America's Loneliest Highway, US Highway 50, which is a long stretch of nothingness between Utah and Nevada. It looks like some of Easy Rider was shot along that road. Maybe not. I didn't read any of the articles posted. I was just looking at the pix for inspiration of short story/novel/novella/movie script idea. I wrote a few film scripts but I have too much of a vision in my head as to how it should look. I would want to be the director, the director of photography and all other positions associated with placing the scenes inside the little boxes. I'd also want to be the set director. And pick the players: the casting whatever ya call it!Visions visions visions!

So, the only way I can do it (well, I'm not saying that I expertly do it, I mean, I do it, but as to whether it's good or not I can't tell. To me, it's something just to keep my mind off of pain, anguish, depression etc...the tortured, I know, I know!)

Anyway, the only way I can do it  is through writing fuction, I mean, fiction.

Finally got around to watching The Dark Knight. Heath Ledger was great. He deserved more screen time than he had.  I wasn't crazy about the rest of it The movie that should be made is one where  Christian Bale not only loses his temper on set, but loses his mind as well; brainwashed by extreme method acting.

Anyway, the only superhero movie I liked was Iron Man. Mickey Rourke has signed on to the project to play the villain, which should be interesting. Of course I'll have to wait for the DVD release. Or be one of those whackos who download the movie off some pirate (Somalia) site.

Cheeze!

LINE FEEDS

Like I'm feeding the electric line to Brian from the second floor; the episode where he and Stewie go through an updated version of the Who's On First bit from Abbott and Costello

NICE WEATHER BUT...

...still fucking cold.

I'm thinking: how do I find people to share blogs with? Oh well. I'll figure it out. Myspace, facebook, twitter, blogger - some other ones, or a lot of other ones.

Now hearing a cardinal twittering (hah!) outside. What doesn't make sense is this: when people say "oh, the robins are out. It must be spring." What the fuck do the robins know about this shit? It's still wind chill temps out. They can live outside in this weather, but not us! (at least I can't; hard enough staying alive period!)

Neck getting a little locked, only cuz I was drawing at the easel, where I copied Charlie Brown speaking on the telephone but had him saying something totally inappropriate to the character's speech (if you can follow that, Moses bless you, cuz I can't, and I wrote the fucking thing!)

Clarity for clarity's sake? Every time I hear that word all I think about is Aunt Clara from Bewitched. She was one creepy looking old woman, with a voice that sounded like she had just swallowed a Coke bottle. She was the real old hag witch, not Samantha's mother! 

WORD OF THE DAY

It feels like it's late but then again...I think I'm catching a cold, but then again...I'm tired and then drink coffee and then again,  get tired from the caffeine crash.

What's wrong with my picture?

Here's the saying for the day, and my life:

Everything was about me, now nothing is.

MORE BIRDS MORE SUNSHINE

...and I'm always going back and forth to the drug store or the doctor. Still contemplating on making a 'pass' at the lab technician in Genesee Hospital. But what the fuck for?

Meanwhile, a little more sunshine today in Rotch, a little warmer (not much) and more birds flyin' about. Pretty soon the buzzards will be circling overhead; not as many as I saw in Webster when I went to visit Jerry. Fucking looked like something out of a wild west movie. Neat-o keen - and I never talked like that when I was a kid, so why am I doing it now? Loose cannon in the brain.

J Dilla song going through head right now. Still only listening to music whilst driving van - on tape. No new vehicles in my future, past or present. (Huh?)

Signed,

LP Flumberwagon

FIRST POST IS THE SIGN POST UP AHEAD

No time like the present I always say, well, maybe that was a drunken Daffy Duck quote from Warner Brothers.

Just up late, signing up for other social network shit. Another place to share ramblings with absolutely no one, but I like the templates just the same. It's got a good beat and you can dance to it.

Some pain today, but not as bad as the past few days.

I have to stop twisting my brain about as to how to write properly I mean hey! ain't we all suppoze tah be originamble?

Out and out!

Tuesday, April 14 2009, day before tax day.