Saturday, January 19, 2008

Good Times


Its 1:11 am and i'm hanging with Slacker the Cat, listening to Modest Mouse. Thematic, no?

He's perched directly between the keyboard and computer screen, and, even as I type, is trying to insinuate himself unto his favorite perch, my shoulder, and maybe get a pet or two.

General Rule of Thumb: If M is not home by midnight, Slacker generally yowls his little ass off. Sometimes he wants something - food, water, whatever - but usually it's just kitty angst - a combination of lonely and "what-the-f*ck?!" energy - all pitched into one loud and penetrating yowl.

Such is the case tonight.
Such is the catalyst of this blog.

M, incidentally, has just spent her last day as a student within the halls of SCNM and is currently out celebrating. Or something like that.

Earlier today, Matt Danley and I attended the unofficial SCNM send-off, commemorated with a caucophony of clapping, whooping and the semi-rhythmic beating of pots & pans by family and friends, then culminated with the banging of a large gong by each graduate.

M, in characteristic fashion, refused the mallet -and- punched the gong. The 3rd and 4th knuckles of her right hand turned white, then red, then blue, but, after much ice, the swelling has gone down and a hand-like shape has reappeared . We think it is not broken.

Tomorrow she officially "walks" - traverses the stage to receive her sheepskin. Two weeks hence she'll take her boards -and- in the meantime will be seeking employment in her given career. Then comes the joyous process of student loan repayment. Oh, and did I mention she's just enrolled at PIHMA, attending nights and weekends, to obtain her L.A.C. (License of Acupunture)?

No?

There's a pretty good song by Modest Mouse that speaks to the moment:

The good times are killing me.
Here we go!

Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.

The good times are killing me.

Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me. Jaws clenched tight we talked all night, oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me. The good times are killing me. The good times are killing me.

Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.

Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights with more folks that I don't know. The good times are killing me.

The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
If you haven't heard this song you should. It captures a flavor of frantic-good-cheer-masking-desperation that is frighteningly familiar and yet alluring at the time, even seductive. Did I mention I like this song?

On the other hand, a little goes a long way. "The Good Times..." as a theme song? I'd be lying if I said the thought hadn't seemingly sifted into my consciousness (much as a cat will insinuate itself into your lap), but too much of a good thing, right? Anway...

Two days ago, M decided to try Naso Cranial Restructuring - a naturopathic procedure where slender balloons are inserted into the nasal passages and inflated. The resulting adjustment -"it makes a disturbing sort of crunching/popping sound" - not only opens the nasal passages, but realigns the bony plates of the head and even the bones of the face. Eventually, the spinal column and skeletal structure are supposed to realign themselves as well.

In other words, one becomes literally altered...

It's no "Big Yellow Cab" and Kava,
No Ecstasy & 5HTP,
No Wine and supposed Pot Brownies,
Certainly no night of Binge Drinking...

But there is an effect;
A definite effect,
A cause and effect.

There is.

Good times?

3 comments:

  1. Anonymous5:59 PM

    you make phoenix look beautiful

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you.

    And if this is my mother - "Mom, cut it out!"

    If not, well then... thank you. I'm just taking pictures of what's around me (often within a block or two).

    ReplyDelete