Late Friday Night Just turned nineteen That sweet spot in time The four years Beer and wine drinking age Dropped just in time Now legal for a change My now erstwhile crew Would roll into Scatscio's For a pitcher or two Plus a marginal pizza That left the roof of your mouth Burned but satisfied Hugo would tickle the ivories In this ersatz piano lounge My introduction to Adult late night entertainment Just about the time This song appeared On the FM radio playlist
Scatscio's was in A large frame house Transformed into A neighborhood lounge I don't remember Which of our crew discovered The pair of blue boxer shorts Under a square piece Of loose particle board Lying on the floor In the upstairs terlet
But for many years When going to hear Hugo For a quaff and a munch One of us was compelled To do the underpants check By lifting the board For a peek and a giggle The blue boxers stayed Silent and persistently present Under a particle board Lying on the floor Of the piano lounge terlet
Growing up in a household where the adults where born respectively in 1881, 1906, and 1916; this was not only high comedy but a self help recording. So stop whining, here’s some Merthiolate to put on your boo boo, and go back out to play. Don’t come back until the street lamps go on. The only onerous was on me.
daily I view fabricated realities alternate universes diverging converging timeline merging tapestry of screen time disbelieved believing spun from whole cloth fruit of the loom brought to you by loons highly unlikely exposition narratives from nattering decanted denominational decrypted dominated cryptic negative nincompoop nabobs woven into a threadbare fabric with a smattering of snew
1. Widow Twanky. An honorific she earned after her husband Cranky Twanky passed. 2. Buttons. Things you have to push to find out what they really do. 3. Cinders. Burn your cinders to the bone, what do you get? Boney Cinders 4. The Beast. Something we all must try to keep at bay 5. Gru. A thing we all need to grow some of to hide away for a rainy day 6. Cruella de Vil Hunter Thompson's big car of choice for some fear and loathing duty in Las Vegas 7. The Fairy Godmother Maternal Changeling terrorizing children 8. Abanazar. When you don't have enough to qualify as Abundanza 9. Carabosse The last railroad car on The Bosses train 10. King/Queen Rat. The big cheeses at the local Rodent Club
Hominids being Horrible to one another has no Hole in human history Honestly it's Horrendous How we've treated one another Holiday exceptions Honestly only sometimes Honored
So I wrote a haiku this morning to a Bluesky #vss365 prompt of #yearn as I am wont to do daily.
It went like this:
It always seems that No matter how hard I #yearn Affection is spurned
A comment made on that post brought to mind this song by Loudon Wainwright, III
“Unrequited To The Nth Degree”
Oh, when I die and it won’t be long Hey, you’re gonna be sorry that you treated me wrong Yeah, you’re gonna be sorry that you treated me bad Hey, and if there’s an after life I’ll gloat and I’ll be glad
Might be a plane crash, or some sort of OD Hey, there’s going to be a photograph with my obituary You’re gonna see it and you’ll cry You’re gonna wanna wear black Hey, I’ll be dead but you can bet your life, I’m gonna get you back
I’m tired of being left up on your shelf I might not wait around, might kill myself Not only would you miss me, but you’d feel guilty to Oh, I’d be dead but it’d be too late the joke would be on you
Ha ha ha ha, ho ho ho ho Chuckle chuckle chuckle chuckle Snigger snigger snigger snigger Guffaw guffaw guffaw Yuk yuk yuk yuk Ha ha ha ha…
So you better take warning, start treating me good Start doing the things that I think you should And you better not pout and no you better not cry The grim reaper is a-comin’ to town and I just might die
This song reinforces many things for me. From irrational exuberance to unreasonable expectations. From pining for personages out of my league, while not noticing those that would have been a better fit.
Personal life Professional life Business life Financial life Spiritual life
This song also affirms my observations on codependency:
"I wonder if it's true that a buttered slice of toast always lands buttered side down?" She leered back at me over the breakfast table and winked. "Wanna find out?" People our age had no business behaving that way, but we put that mornings inspiration to the test for a spell. Someday I'll Google that question. But I did not then and I will not now. Some mysteries of the universe are left to be explored over and over again. The buttering of the toast can be wonderful and messy. Surprising and surpassing expectations. Not a chore, but a delight. Whether morning or night, my little toaster would often pop up when least expected, delivering a surface for that delicious spread. Toast is fine. But Biscuit was different. Since I've never heard of a buttered biscuit theory I can only imagine you never can know which side a buttered biscuit will land on; so you just have to roll around for bit. Or a bite. Or a bit of a bite. That was the way of the Biscuit.
Biscuit Bolero
Now please pass the toast and for heavens sake be careful.
1. Why did the chicken cross the road? Because a flyover did not eggsxist 2. Why are eggs oval in shape? Because if they were square it would be an eggsistential threat 3. Who said Humpty Dumpty was an egg? Upon advice of my attorney I take the fifth eggmenment 4. What is fumigate? What will be needed once our coop's eggosystem crashes in on itself 5. What is a wuss? Wet cloth used to wipe the eggxtra yoke off your puss 6. What is a spotter? One with eggstremely sharp eyesight 7. What is the speed of light? Eggstrodinarily fast wave and particle scramble to fly the coop 8. What is a hangover? The price of overtly eggregious consumption 9. What is a grammy? What you get with eggsentialy 28.3495 ounceys 10.What is lycra? It's all about how you lycra your eggs
Keep it stupid simple Oops I got it backassward again I believe I will supsup it out If I follow my stream Of unconsciousness Though it may be A circuitous route If I step into a river once Then repeat process It's never the same river twice That's me following my snout Sensing the bait before me Compelling me to click it out Stop the processing I recall it all now Keep it simple stupid So come on KIck it out
A Scroll Threw Life 