yeah, there was a time and place a few years back when that idea would have had some legs in the carnality scheme of it all. times change. as well as tastes. ms spears or mrs bubba goober, as the case might be, depending on just how many drugs she’s eaten in the past 12 hours no longer holds much interest for me. not even, well, perhaps, her evening trips out sans panties, of course you get my rift. where was i?
i’ve played sorta fast and loose with the britney spears memorial trailer park in the past couple of blogs. fine. time to put it to bed and find something else or another way to deal with the britney spears memorial trailer park deal. this is a nice park and i don’t want my readers and friends thinking i’m living in squalor. well, not yet anyway. give me some time for that action. though the park will not have anything to do with my stupidity.
the filthy wife beater undershirt stained with all manner of stuff. sitting on the, actually once nice, front porch with a .357 taking random shots at passing skateboarders or family pets not on a leash. but i jump ahead a week or two.
no. this is a nice place. no squalor at all. quiet. peaceful. so far but i imagine it’s probably like this all the time. fine by me. i don’t want to offend any of my neighbors who might stumble across the last couple of blogs. though stumble might not be the right term. when asked what i do with my spare time or time, period, these days i usually answer, write stuff. then tell them where to find the crapola. so i best play nice in the old sand box. capice?
i mean i’ve had trouble in the past with neighbors and being playful with the living conditions. it almost got me kicked out of the place. not a bad thing but i wasn’t ready to move out just yet.
long ago in one of my many lifetimes i was living in oakland, ca. a strange place under most circumstances. though i haven’t been there in years. my fondest memories of the place consist of walking around downtown on sunday afternoons carrying a bottle of vodka and smoking a joint. the other being watching oakland a’s games live and in person back when they had a hell of a team.
any the ways, a friend and i were living in the ‘red door apts’. a cockroach infested place if there ever was one. look up ‘cockroach infested’ in the dictionary and you will see a photo of the red door apts.
the red door apts were a motel at some point or another. then they were converted into apartments. apartments where king roach ruled with the skeeviness that only large populations of the damn little bastards can. walls were alive with the little fucks during the night hours. coming home and turning on the lights took an iron will combined with the drunken stoned out stupidity of youth.
as a side bar drift. cockroaches in vietnam are still, i’m sure to this day, the behemoths they were back when i was there during the war. four or five inches long. huge man eating things. we used to douse them in lighter fluid and light them off. yes. yes. i know. however, ALL of the gi’s did that in nam. come on they were cockroaches the size of cleveland. before i drift too far, the point being there weren’t that many of them living amongst us. nothing like the red door apts.
it’s taken a while but the main point is coming. trust me. during the time i was living with the cockroaches at the red door, frank zappa’s movie and lp ‘200 motels’ was released. all these years later it’s hard to watch. some of the music still holds up but the movie is sleep inducing at best.
well, the lp had a poster of the movie inside the album jacket. friend and i thought it would be a good idea to put the movie poster with frank’s large leering face on it along with ‘200 motels’ in large print up in the front window of the red door apts for all to see and enjoy.
our neighbors weren’t amused. we were told, by the manager, to take it down. we didn’t. after all we were revolutionaries. right? then it became take it down or you outta here. yes, push moving to shove time.
we took it down.
so the point being i have no desire to push my neighbors to the point of no return. so from now on no more britney spears memorial trailer park stuff. ok? yeah, i know it’s sorta funny and all but i think you get where i’m coming from here. i hope so.