You may find this surprising but, I'm not a fan of photos of men's feet. With that in mind, I'll spare you a photo of how good my feet look since I clipped my toenails with the new nail clippers I bought this morning to replace the ones that I used to own but lost last week when my apartment went up in flames. Oh, did I not tell you about how I plan to use my apartment blowing up for all the would-be humor I can milk it for? Well, it did and I do.
Anyway, I've been thinking a lot today about how good my toenails look since I cut them and started walking around all day in my new $1.oo flip flops that I bought this morning to replace the ones I used to own but lost last week when my apartment went up in flames. Man, that was pretty freakin' weird. Did I tell you about that? No? Oh, well, it wasn't really a big deal. I didn't really need all those chord charts for all the different people I play bass for anyway.
Anyway, I am listening to Gil Scott-Heron's album "I'm New Here". Actually, I kinda keep going back to this one track. I guess it's the 10th one on the album. I'll post it below this paragraph and I don't really give a damn if someone tries to arrest me for that because my apartment burnt down and I'm kinda in a bad mood. And by the way, my bad mood doesn't mean I wasn right to get all mad and walk out of the room yesterday. But now that I think of it ... actually, I was 100% right. Probably more like 110%. Anyway, if you listen to this Gil Scot-Heron track and it's not obvious to you why someone would keep replaying it ... I guess you and I are really never gonna work out on account of the fact that you are either deaf or you have bad taste in pretty much everything aural.
And speaking of dying and New York city, one of my favorite books that I used to own but lost last week when my apartment went up in flames is called Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison. Since I like that book so much but didn't really wanna buy it again since I had already read it, albeit about 8 years ago and have thus pretty much forgotten everything except the fact that I liked the fact that the end was in the beginning, I decided to restart my book collection today with a fun trip to The Strand where I picked up a copy of Ralph Ellison's "Flying Home and Other Stories". The astute among you will notice that I have not applied the standard html link application to neither "Ralph Ellison" nor "Flying Home and Other Stories". This is because I know you're smart enough to know that you can just copy and paste the words "Ralph Ellison" or "Flying Home and Other Stories" into the "search" field at amazon.com which can be clicked to by following the convenient link in the bottom right hand margin of this page. And assuming you buy the book, or anything else for that matter, from amazon.com, assuming you got there by clicking on the convenient link provided by me, you will be contributing to something I like to call: My Income.
Anyway, the first story in "Flying Home and Other Stories" is not the namesake of the book. Instead, the editors creatively placed a bit of light reading called "A Party Down At The Square" in the beginning of the book. As you may have guessed from the title, this story takes place in a town square. I haven't finished the story so I'm not entirely sure what town we're talking about. I think it might be in Alabama. Maybe you know where this is going. I sure didn't. When I was a kid in Connecticut we used to go to a party, down at the square, that we called "Mt. Carmel". It was a big flaming W.O.P. fest. I'd hang out getting powdered sugar from the fried dough all over my shirt and beg my dad for 75 cents to ride the miniature ferris wheel. Sometimes there would be a Neil Diamond cover band too. My Aunt Vincenza loves Neil Diamond. I could never decide if "They're Coming To America" was an amazing song or one of the best comedy routines I ever heard. For the sake of argument, let's just say it's both.
As I was saying, "A Party Down At The Square" is all about how this kid is gonna get burned alive and what can only be described as "pretty much all the white people in town" are standing around cheering on the fact that this kid who's name may or may not be a word that rhymes with "bigger" is, to put it another way, about to get set on fire. While he's still alive. Anyway, the town people call this kid the name that sounds like "trigger" but begins with an "n" and only has an "r" at the end of it so many times that you start to think there was a certain time and place in American history where people wouldn't have been offended by anything Mel Gibson said to his ex-girlfriend. If you don't believe me, you should click my link to amazon.com and buy the book yourself. Or you could just ask Mel Gibson's ex-wife since she seems to think that the guy who started dating this girl ...
... after what can only be described as two lonesome and gruelingly long months out of their 30 years of marriage is a real stand up guy.
Anyway, if I don't eat something in the next five minutes I might actually pass out. Assuming I wake up after said passing out, I'll be here working on The Old Fashioned Ladies Club which, incidentally, is only 30 days away from becoming the latest club.
Mwah!
M
P.S. Apparently this happened at Luke Wesley's Fourth of July party ...
P.P.S. Which may or may not have been the party where I taught his hot mom how to dance ...
P.P.P.S. ...
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