My amp is warming up so I thought I'd warm you up.
Fucked up my back at work yesterday. Came home and rested and wrote a new song. Got a good night's rest and woke up and grabbed some grub at the farmer's market. Yum. Headed to Amoeba Records in search of this Tom Petty documentary. No luck so I picked up some vinyl. The Plimsouls, and Julian Casawhatever from the Strokes solo record. As I was leaving my car started fine but wouldn't move when I shifted into reverse. I dicked around calmly as one does when he or she isn't quite ready to deal with this type of weekend goose. Then I called AAA. I was in the garage and the tow guy couldn't get in. He called his co-worker who was in a pickup truck and we pulled all sorts of shenanigans getting it out. He ended up just pulling me out with a big chain and I stayed in the car to steer. It was weird. I was graciously pleased at how both Jose's didn't judge me for needing a lollipop to shift my car out of park. It's been like that for about a year now. Not really sure why. Took it to my mechanic/angel Eddie a while back and he says to me, "I can fix it and it will be expensive, or you can use this little lollipop to unlock the secret snowman button that's hidden in all automobiles in case this type of thing ever happens." Not a direct quote but needless to say I chose the latter. Anyways Jose's got a kick out of it. They almost respected my decision to do this instead of fixing it. By the way they really were both named Jose, I'm not being white. Jose #1 dropped me and my car off at Eddie's and had a delightful series of conversations including how nice it was outside and if it would be worth it to replace my transmission. I hitched a ride with Ronny Perkins and George Applebee back to koreatown.
The baby dog that lives above me squeals a lot and today is no exception. I'm always a little conflicted when it happens. It's always a combination of "I hope that poor thing is ok, should I save him?, and shut the fuck up you stupid little fuck get a life". The 3rd one only peaks in on instinct, dick human emotion. On my way up from throwing in a load of laundry I see this power walker lady who lives upstairs and one door down. She's always telling me things as if she's exposing some kind of scandalous secret where she cups the side of her mouth and whispers things like, "the dryer in the middle never works...ever". She says "oh you have the barking puppy above you" and I say "is he ok?" and she says in a manner as if she were about to tell me its owner beats it with a steak knife, "separation anxiety, it's just separation anxiety. He'll be fine, he'll be fine." So I guess I'm just glad it's ok and not being tortured by Dr. Phil or Gary Glitter or something.
So it's the freakin weekend, and I'm trapped inside with a bum back, no car, and a squealing puppy above me. None of these things would be much of a nuisance if I were dead so I've decided that none of them are. I have ginger ale, I have my guitars, I have a few beers, I have some records, my amps warmed up smack ya butt for me.
Danny
an excellent post.
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