“I couldn't live a week without a private library
- indeed, I'd part with all my furniture and squat and sleep on the floor
before I'd let go of the 1500 or so books I possess.” ― H.P. Lovecraft

Whistling In The Graveyard

Friday, June 29, 2007

So for the last week I've been stranded at my Mom's place out in Wirt County.

Yeah.

It's been said that Hell is the impossibility of reason. If that's the case then the County is worse than hell, because there's a certain comfort in the absence of something provided that something is impossible. Reason is possible in the county, just nobody bothers to fucking USE it.

In fact, they REFUSE to use it.

That's worse than hell.

And I was in it.

The small silver lining to it is that mom and my sister weren't there. At least not together. See I can take one or the other. Individually my sister just annoys me and Mom tries to kill me, but when they get together and scream at one another for a few hours it makes me want to stab my eardrums out with pencils just to hear QUIET again.

But, no, mom was in Kentucky all week and, at least for the weekend, my sister was in Cleveland or something. Someplace in Ohio anyways. Nobody tells me anything. I had to sacrifice an entire week out there just to make sure Grandma didn't need anything. She fell a week or two ago and refused to go to the emergency room for a few days. She finally agreed to checked out. Turns out she fractured three ribs.

Yes, she, at 98-years-old, is tougher than I am.

I was chiefly there for when she needed to make a beer run.

Yes, it sounds simple, but everything does at first. See, I'm an insomniac AND I have amphetamines in me. This pretty much means that I sleep when the sleepin's good. I can't really stick to a set schedule. On top of that, I simply can't sleep at my Mom's house. It's a bit easier in the winter, but in the summer it's about 20% more humid out there than in town, plus I honestly think I'm allergic to something growing around the house. When I go out there in the summer I feel like shit and I pour sweat. Gallons of sweat. The kind of sweat that leaves white salt deposits on a black t-shirt. I have doctor's orders to avoid sweating buckets of sweat. Of course nobody pays any attention to my doctor's orders when they negate me doing something THEY want me to do. Only when I want to do something do they remember that I literally have no intestinal fortitude.

“Fooooord... you really shouldn't be hanging out with hot bisexual dominatrices in your condition. By the way, can you come over here and pick up the car? It's just a car you big baby. And while you're under there can you just change the oil? I mean, you're under there anyway...”

So Mom laid out the schedule for me. She just wanted me up at 5 AM every morning, cause Grandma gets up at 6. 5 AM, for those of you who know me, is right around the time I usually pass out, give or take a few hours. Partially due to the reasons I just mentioned and partially because that's right before the sun comes out and I'm not a big fan of solar radiation.

See, I know how bad the sun is for the skin. I'm enlightened and health conscious. I'm also quite possibly a vampire. Jury's still deliberating on that one, and thus far my own research (randomly biting people in the neck) has yielded mixed results.

So I pass out around dawn and wake up anywhere from 9 AM to 3 PM depending on the whims of the pharmaceutical cocktail sloshing around in my brain. I really have very little control over this. I sleep through alarm clocks, I sleep through firetrucks going up the street (my place in town is two blocks from the sub-station), I'm even willing to bet I could sleep through a surprise, early-morning blow-job.

Any woman willing to put this to the test can contact me at Ford_Maverick@hotmail.com for directions to my house.

If you win I'll give you a prize or something. Of course it would be hard to find something that would top having just serviced me, but I'll try to think of something.

Contestants must finish the above mentioned act even if I awaken to qualify for prizes. My awakening does not disqualify contestants from possibly receiving cash and/or prizes. Prize availability subject to extreme budgetary restraints. Contestants must provide own transportation. Offer void in Utah.

Where was I? Oh yeah, can't fall asleep, once I do fall asleep can't wake up. This is ten times worse at Mom's house.

Her place is slightly more tolerable with an air conditioner going. This has less to do with the cold than it does with knocking the humidity down. Every AC I've ever had out there (all of which I had to buy myself because my parents seemed to be afraid of them or something) had to have holes drilled into the bottom of it to let the water run out. And I mean constant water. Like someone left the hose on.

So first order of business was to locate the single room air conditioner my sister used at college. Problem was, it was in the garage. My Mom has a three stall garage and two cars. Neither car can get in this goddamn garage.

Stall 3 (working from the farthest one from the house and going in) contains a giant-ass 4-wheeler that my brother uses to go hunting when Der-Fuhrer lets him (I-E, NEVER) and all of my belongings that my sister has broken and thrown out of the house.

Stall 2 contains the two riding lawnmowers that my Mom is absolutely convinced that I can fix and boxes of stuff that I can't identify, but it's vitally important to something.

Stall 1 houses the stuff my sister used at college, with all of my Grandma's furniture piled on top of it. The movers brought her stuff out and would have carried it into the house, but NO, little sister was the one that was home, so she told them to put Grandma's brand new couch in the garage and leave Mom's dirty-ass sofa she's been letting the dogs sleep on IN THE GODDAMN HOUSE.

So three stalls and both cars still sit out in the rain.

The impossibility of reason...

Oh yeah, Mom wants ME to take the couch into the house, AND carry the old one out. The old one, by the by, is the kind with recliners in it. The kind that not only weigh a ton, but have a tendency to unfold in transit, shifting weight unpredictably and chopping off fucking fingers.

Furthermore, she wants me to take the couch into my place. Firstly, I already have two couches in my living room. I like my couches. They're old and broken down and smell like smoke, but they're old and beige and I like them. Mom's couch started out a kind of off-white. It's now brown to black, depending where you look and it smells like dog-ass.

She wants me to haul that foul thing into my place and replace one of my couches with it. And I have to do all the moving.

She can't understand why I don't want it...

Where was I going with this? Oh yeah, the air conditioner.

It took about an hour of digging, but I finally found it. Both of the knobs were missing, but I was hardly surprised at that. I mean, why would an air conditioner need fucking knobs right? I mean they only TURN THE FUCKING THING ON AND OFF RIGHT?

And it can't be just ONE knob missing can it? Noooo, then I could switch it back and forth to get the thing on ane set where I want it.

That would be too easy.

Well I get it in the house and into the window, both of which are a chore because all my clothes are soaked clear through with sweat and the AC weighs quite a bit more than I'm supposed to be lifting. I had to take out the bottom part of the vinyl window frame, noticing in the process that the glass is broken in half, and I use my ever-present Gerber tool to turn the AC on. It barely works, but it knocks the humidity down to a nearly tolerable level.

So I run Mom's whirlpool full of less than room temperature water and settle in to cool off and write a blog post or two for you unworthy bastards.

That was until I realized that I was naked and my computer contained 28 gigs of porn.

So I'm writing them NOW, Ok you fuckers?

And I know what you're thinking. NO, I didn't befoul the whirlpool (I was kidding V). I do have SOME sense of propriety.

I soak till 3 AM till I'm tired enough to sleep and I go to bed.

June 22

I awake to bits of ice hitting me in the face. The air conditioner is frozen. I've barely slept. Regardless of that fact it's about noon, which is still pretty early for me.

I'm completely soaked with sweat, as is the bed and the goofy-ass foam pad my sister had on it. Oh yeah, she also decided that she liked the idea of air conditioning too, so she'd crawled into bed with me at some point and I was precariously balanced on the 8 inches of mattress she'd crowded me off onto. Fortunately that was the morning she left town so I just had to deal with it that once.

I stumble through the day, don't get anything on Mom's 'To-Do' list done. Soak, watch porn, sleep.

June 23

AC still barely working, still barely slept. Realized that the foam pad on the mattress is apparently thicker in the middle than on the ends. Found myself with two pillows under my head to even things out, so I was basically bent into a 'W' shape all night. Discovered that I'm too damn old to sleep that way. Walked very slowly and uncomfortably all day.

Stumble through day, don't get anything on Mom's 'To-Do' list done. Soak, watch porn, sleep.

June 24

Finally get the idea to check the air conditioner filter. I peel off a layer of lint strong and thick enough to use as a hand towel. Put the AC on 'Fan' and left it to thaw.

Watching TV with Grandma and a condom commercial comes on. Grandma remarks that she can remember when condoms were illegal. Not only illegal, but bootlegged.

At first I'm somewhat bothered by my 98-year-old Grandmother talking about condoms. This discomfort is quickly replaced by an image of the old man in the Copperhead Road video speeding down the road with a back seat full of Trojans and the cops on his tail.

When rubbers are outlawed only outlaws will have rubbers.

I'm pretty sure it's thoughts like these that keep me single and unemployed. Also, coincidentally, not using rubbers.

Not for their intended purpose anyways.

June 25

Air conditioner worked great. Went into 12 hour coma. My purpose for being at the house has now pretty much become counterproductive. I was there so Grandma wouldn't feel nervous about spending a lot of time alone. Well now she's nervous about me. Worried when I sleep too late. Worried when I'm up too late. Worried when I'm pale and sweating. Worried when I'm cooling off in the AC to stop the sweats. Worried that I'm not eating. The last one even threw me a bit, but the heat made me too sick to eat.

June 26 and 27

I really have no recollection of them happening.

I presume I stumbled through the day, didn't get anything on Mom's 'To-Do' list done. Soaked, watched porn, and slept.

I do vaguely remember talking to Mom on the phone at 3 AM. She'd just gotten to Ravenswood and I had to drive to pick her up in the morning. Mom wanted me to leave the house by 10 AM and asked if it was a problem. I joked that my sister, who was back home by that time, would surely find some reason to wake me up by 8 AM and went to sleep.

June 28 7:59 AM

The sister bursts through the door, nearly causing me to piss myself, and angrly yells at me that I have to get up right NOW because she has a big meeting to go to and she's running late and she just dropped a full pot of coffee on the ceramic tile floor in the kitchen and I HAVE TO CLEAN IT UP RIGHT NOW.

Ten minutes later I realize that she left the bedroom door open so all the cold air was leaving the room at a very fast rate. I have ice in my hair, my feet are sweating and I'm bent into a 'W'.

So I get out of the goddamn bed and EVERYTHING HURTS. I actually got my ass kicked by a bed. Come to think of it, last time I was in a fight it didn't hurt half as much as sleeping in that fucking torture rack of a bed.

Sore and tired and sick to my stomach I'm cleaning up hot coffee, broken glass and blood... aw crap.

Halfway through cleaning Mom called, because she always calls two or three hours before she says she needs me awake, just top make sure I know when it is she wants me to wake up. She's reminding me to get up at 10 by calling me at 8.

I'm sure it makes sense to SOMEONE.

Well a few bandages later and Grandma and I are on the road. And It's a good thing she was along too cause one of us had to know where the fuck we were going. I mean, yeah, I drove away from there a week before, but that was away. Now I'm going back with no sleep. Yeah, I don't see a problem there.

The amphetamines, caffiene and vicodin probably didn't help my direction sense much either. They did, however, make the trip much more pleasant.

We only had to backtrack a few miles though, found the place and Mom dropped me back off here in town. I accidentally left my drawing tablet in her car though so it'll stay out at her place till I goddamn go and get it cause there's no way they'll bring it in here.

Oh yeah, Mom wants me to go back out on Sunday and stay another week, so I'm thinking about just slitting my fucking wrists now.

So I was going to get a nap, but I was home for all of 20 minutes where Jeremy (AKA Jewbacca, AKA Jewtallica, AKA Fu-Man-Jew) called and asked if I wanted to go see a movie. Well fuuuuuuck yeah I wanna see a movie. Especially since he was buying. So we went to see Pirates of the Caribbean 3, had a pizza and then saw Fantastic Four: Rise of the Silver Surfer.

I'll review the movies later. Right now I have to sleep. The Indie wrestling fed I DJ for is doing a show tomorrow at the St Marys Marina and Bait Emporium and this show is a big deal because we've scored the one and only Jake 'The Snake' Roberts.

I know, that would have been a really big deal back in the 80's. Around here it probably still will be anyhow. So, St Marys Marina, doors open at 6, show starts at 7.

In addition (and I just found this out TODAY) we have two shows on July 4th at the City Park Pavilion. One at 1 PM and one at 7 PM. Mr. Roberts will be in attendance at both.

I'm gonna go black out now and surrender to the oblivion of unconsciousness or death, whichever one wants to step up right now. I'm so exhausted I really don't give half a shit which.

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