Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").
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Sunday, March 30 1997
Almost nothing: Give me a feather big enough and I'll tickle the world.
I have a terrible hangover, the kind that feels like intoxication on a powerful mood-altering chemical . Things right now seem so overwhelmingly profound that it is almost as though I am on tussin, except instead of being emotionally cold and superficial, I'm easily overcome by emotions. I had to fight back tears listening to Bob Mould. Then I was reading the Washington Post about the forced asexuality among the members of the a Heaven's Gate cult and I kept thinking how unhealthy that was. But it also sounded strangely familiar. Too many realtionships among the people I know (including those concerning me) have a forced asexuality about them that seems, to an extent, to rob the people involved of their humanity, making them into organic robots. Furthermore, I think I'm as self-repressed and thus as emotionally unhealthy as anyone I know. Don't get me wrong, I'm not advocating more intercourse among my friends; I'm just saying that overt sexuality should not be so repressed. You see, the feelings that motivate sexuality are all still there no matter what is done about them. But if they are so thoroughly silenced, they build up and ultimately turn into venom.
It also occurs to me that here I am 29 and there never was a war. That's a unique thing that sets my generation apart from the others.
Back at the Dynashack, I lay on the couch on the front porch, coping with my hangover. I'd drank some vodka at Cocke Hall and that had postponed the headache. But as I sobered up again the headache returned. Hardcore alcoholics have to stay drunk all the time in order to stay happy.
I thought maybe I should take a nap, but then I realized I was incredibly hungry. So I went down to the Corner to score some pizza. But I was met by a contingent of freaks: Cecelia and Leticia the Brazilian Girls, Karen the German Girl, the boy Jesse, and Annie the Taurus. Pagan Easter and the spring weather had inspired some colour into the girls: Karen wore a long velvety red dress and Cecelia a short velvety green one. Spring had not yet come for Leticia; she was wearing a long distressed black skirt and lots of fishnet. Jesse had cleaned up a little since last night he had been drenched in much beer. This was the first time in a long time that I've seen him in something other than his tattered Skinny Puppy tee shirt. Unlike the goths, Annie the Taurus usually wears conventional casual clothes. The only thing odd in her appearance is that these days she has short and very bleached hair.
The Aquarian Heroin Addict appeared as we ate and she chatted with the girls. She wore a veil over her head to conceal horrible leisons on her face. Her healthlessness always makes me feel nauseated when she is around. Especially when I have a hangover.
Among my friends, a good skill to have when the pizza comes out is the skill of being able to eat rapidly. I am a master. But the rest of the day bits of skin hung from the roof of my mouth from where I'd been burned. Karen the German Girl complained of similar problems.
Josh and I picked up some individual beers at the Corner Market and rendezvoused with the others on the porch of the Dynashack.
There were some beers and much wine left over from purchases made last night. We all consumed these while sitting and chatting on the porch. What we discussed I don't recall. No doubt I led them in some vicious gossip. We also reconstructed some memories of last night.
A teevee party started when the Simpsons came on. It was an especially weird and wonderful episode (I say that about all Simpsons episodes); the one where the concept of utopian suburbia is viciously parodied. Houses are huge and clean themselves, children are well behaved and even kind to one another, and your boss (Mr. Scorpio) is imaginative, witty and easy-going. But not all is well beneath the veneer of utopia; turn your back and an owl swoops down to snatch a cute little chipmunk or your ideal boss tries to overtake the whole west coast by force of arms. I especially liked the surrealness of the final scenes. The gratuitous violence was perfect and hilarious.
After King of the Hill (which I insisted on watching despite the sentiments of the others), I played some Big Fun videotapes for the others. Josh Mustin left, then Jesse took away everyone but Cecelia, who stayed behind to get drunk with me. I like things much better when it is just me and Cecelia. I find myself being easily annoyed by the banter I hear when there are a lot of disaffected youth hanging out in one room together. Cecelia and I sat drinking vino and watching videotapes. Suddenly we heard a crash in the street.
Suddenly Bn arrived. He was being troubled by some perennial Helen problems and was emotionally upset as well. But the bottle of blush vino he bore and the Cure which Cecelia put on the stereo eventually worked small miracles on his mood.
Bn drove Cecelia and I out to the Kroger at Barracks Road where he bought another bottle of vino and I picked up some all natural juice to use as a mixer with my vodka. We returned to the Corner and went to a set of rooms on the second floor of the Follettes Building; Cecelia had been invited to come by earlier today while we were in front of Gumby's. People living in those rooms include friend-of-the-Dynashack Liz West and a number of punk rocker types. It's a cool place to live; it's kind of run down, but the rooms are stately and antique, the windows have a commanding view of the Corner, and the rent is low. We sat in the hallway and chatted with Liz West, Sky (a laid-back friendly guy who used to work at the Rising Sun Bakery), a number of girls, and perhaps others. They'd been smoking "resin" but that was gone now. We all did some untaxing socializing. It was refreshing to hang out in a completely new place with a good mix of unfamiliar faces.
Back at the Dynashack I broke away by just lying on my bed face down. Still, she cooked me half of a baked potato and I rolled over and ate it. Her night was spent on the couch in the living room. God bless the touchingly quaint innocent lives of the youth of today.
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