[70] Girls Girls Girls

[70] Girls Girls Girls:

Professor Curly's birthday! She got a picnic table. Painted pink. From Scott and Grit and the Publisher. She got some Crocs. Some earrings. A bracelet that says; Broadway Bound. A lunch from A&W. A pizza party. Some procesco. Went to an estate sale. A hat that says; Women Love Me Fish Fear me. A nice musky candle. A nice haul in the end. Happy Birthday, Tuna!

I woke up at G's. Her graduation was last night. Kind of funny. Her school very much reminds me of the school I went to in Wyoming. Although that contingent of Society. Whatever you want to call it. I want to say that they are 50% MAGA douchers. Maybe more. Both hostile and victim to an imaginary force that they think is out to get them, but who show up at a graduation wearing shorts and a tank top. I mean, there was almost zero decorum. Which I would normally be in favor of, but not when it comes to actual things in this world that are supposed to be held dear. Like graduations. I mean, on the way back from Chatham we drove by a funeral. There was probably 30 people standing around a grave in shorts and t-shirts. I mean, it is one thing to not have any nice clothes to wear to a funeral. It is another to just not even try. That somehow the liberal elites have made it political to wear something decent at an event that is supposed to be honoring someone you love. I mean, I am talking about both procedings. I wore my best clothes. Mimi and Nino were dressed very good. G's mom and her mom's M. And I don't even think that graduating 8th grade is any big deal. I remember when I graduated 8th grade. I wore cowboy boots and a nice jacket I borrowed from someone I can't remember. But my school was also MAGA douchers. Just MAGA douchers from the 90's. When they pretended to not be racist liars that only care about money. And now greivance, I guess. I mean, if they don't give a shit anymore, why not just pull their kids out of school and I don't know, bible teach them until they get pregnant. Get a job at Walmart. Complain that they can't make a living on minimum wage and then vote Republican because I don't know, some guy that was given $450 million dollars to start his life and didn't manage to lose it all tells you that the real reason you are poor is because Mexicans and black woke Dems border wall this or that.

I was surprised that the teachers and the principal all admitted there was a pandemic this last year. That it was hard to get through and the kids should be proud that they made it through. I mean, I wonder what this fall will look like for them. When all this race panic gets a nice and solid foot hold in the community. Those poor teachers are going to walking a fine line. Both being muzzled by the community and buying into it themselves. I am really glad G is not going there this next term. The racist right is getting stupider by the day. And it is scary. They are about to go to war with basic education. I mean, they already started. Half a century ago at least. But it is finally codifying. And much like how calling the Left socialists never worked until four or five years ago, their war on the truth is finally grabbing roots.

I mean, they had a few students sing the National Anthem. That was whatever. I mean, they do that shit at stuff. It is America. I wish they wouldn't but they do it, and this America. I guess I can look the other way. Although I do feel like when that means one thing to one group of people in a America, Americans, and it means something very different to another group of people, Americans as well, I wonder about the morality of the practice, but since we are talking about decorum, I will let it slide. But a little while later they made us stand up and give the Pledge of Allegiance. Which I found very fucked up. Fuck you. I mean, it is one thing to be proud to be where you are from, it is another thing entirely to devote complete and total fealty to a Nation that you may or may not agree with. Loyalty is not the good vibes thing it pretends to be. Nationalism is gross and it is anti-thetical to the idea of America.

I mean, there was some other things that were pretty entertaining about the event. Things I won't describe because they would embarrass the hell out of 13 year olds. And I know that G doesn't read this. She might one day. And I don't see the value in making her suffer. I mean, it is not with regards to her that things are embarrassing, it is just that teenagers are delicate little flowers full of hormones and awkwardness. And being a teenager is hard enough as it is, you don't need your dad going around and making things worse for you. Even if you don't know he is doing it. I mean, I think I may respect the privacy of teenagers more than I do that of adults. I think because I respect teenagers. Not because of what they do, but because of what they are going through. It is an immpossible moment in life. You really can't win. You can be good at school but all the other kids treat you like shit because of it, or you can suck at school and all the parents treat you like shit because of it. You are trapped and demand your freedom, yet you are comepletly incapable of fending for yourself. You are a child and an adult at the exact same time. But because of how bodies work, there is a scale, a spectrum that defines you on the inside that does not necessarily reflect how you look on the outside. So you are both sexualized and admonished for doing absolutely nothing but just growing up. I mean, I write about this moment in my life sometimes. And I find it jarring that my mind can go right back to what it feels like to be that old. That I somehow made it out alive. That I was able to keep functioning as an adult. Because adults are the ones that lead you through the process. And the second they stop having those hormones squirreling through their bodies they immediately forget what it is like. And then it is like talking to someone that doesn't speak the same language as you. But they have all the power and you have none of the power. I mean. Those poor kids. I hope they have good Summers, because this next year is going to be a motherfucker. Freshmen in High School.

I mean, for some reason they played Michael Jackson's Thriller when the whole thing was over. When we were walking out. Away from the bleachers. What does that signal? I mean, I don't think they really thought it through, but what a weird song to play. Or not. Of all of Michael Jackson's songs, Thriller is the most meaningless. But it is still by Micheal Jackson. Who is dead, yes, but who left behind a legacy of purported pedaphilia and frankly very bizarre behavior that may or may not over-shaddow his music. I mean, I am still on the fence about how to deal with him in my own mind. I guess I just don't think about it because it doesn't really matter. Because he is dead. Now. But I grew up loving the guy. I remember trying to get my wrist to look like his from the cover of the BAD album that is just a picture of his hand in that cool glove. His music is genius and his dance moves and performance capabilities are second to nobody. But so what. There are a million-billion geniuses in the world. I don't think I need to spend much time thinking about him anymore. I mean, celebrate him or not is not really the question. His musical legacy will endure. I mean, Mozart was a nasty fucker, but that doesn't mean we don't listen to Fur Elise. Or Bach or whoever else. I mean, endurance is more important that truth. Who said that? Oh, right, Charles Bukowski. I mean, whatever, kind of. I just don't know why they played that song. Thriller. It stuck with me

It stuck with me because as G and I were driving back to Lower Granville, a song came on the radio. I couldn't figure out who it was. I knew the song very well but hadn't heard it in forever. And my brain was trying to place it. I mean, when I changed the station the song was mid guitar riff. I thought it was Guns and Roses, but that didn't seem right, but then I was confused because I assumed it was Poison, but then the riff change was wrong. But then the lyrics kicked in and of course, Girls Girls Girls, Motley Crue. I loved that song. That album. I mean, I was exactly as old as G when the album came out. I looked in the rearview mirror. She was asleep. She sits in the back for long trips because she is still a youth. It's a safety thing. I almost woke her up to have her get a nice listen. But that seemed stupid. But that album. Girls Girls Girls. I got it on tape. Me and David and Aaron used to listen to it on David's ghetto blaster, we called it, they called it, the portable tape player, in David's back yard. Over and over.

30 years ago. That album would not be played at this point in time. Nor should it. Should it have been played then? I don't know. Probably not. I mean, it probably led to what is going on right now. Which is a good thing in the sense that actions have consequences. But the album is not somehow thing of genius. And the idea that I couldn't tell the difference between it and GnR or Poison tells you something. I mean, it is the same as not being able to tell the differnce between Mozart and Bach. Not because they sound so similar, but because outdated music all kind of sounds the same. That's the reason we have things like Classic Rock. Or Alternative Rock. And it won't stop there. Time will still keep going. Music will have it's moment and then move on. The people that listened to that music at that point in time will have nostalgia. Et cetera. Et al. Genres. Whatever. That is not what I mean. I mean, thinking about G listening to Girls Girls Girls by Motley Crue right now. That is pretty funny. Of all of those band in the late 90's I think they might be the worse. They were just a bunch of bad boys that didn't really care. I mean, Vince Neil was just this insecure guy that was trying to make us feel like he could get chicks. And what's his name was whoever until that Pamela Anderson sex tape came out that showed us he had a big dangler. I mean, they didn't have a Bret Michels, with his sensitive good looks, or the wild and enigmatic CC Deville, like Poison did, and they most certianly didn't have Axel Rose or Slash. They were not G and fucking R. I mean, even Sebastian Bach had more cred than the Motley Crue dudes. But for whatever reason that was the album that really spoke to me in the Summer of 1990. I mean, I should look it up, my guess is that it came out a year or two before that, but I just remember that Summer listening to it. Being 13. Wondering what girls were up to. With their red lips and finger tips. Girls girls girls. Down on Sunset Strip.

I don't know. I am looking too closely on this. But I did think it was pretty good. To cruise down the road. G in the back. Snoozing. Just graduated 8th grade. The song from an album that is absolutely anti-thetical to what she is going through right now blaring on the radio. I mean, it didn't define my life from then on out, but it did have a giant impact at the moment. So much so that I am still waxing like it means something 30 years later. I mean, I identified with CC Deville more than any of the other dudes. And they were all dudes. Dudes that went on to more fame and fortune than they deserved. Especially Axel Rose, but then Slash played the guiter solo in Beat It, the song that Michael Jackson would get most of his post-child musician fame from. I mean, maybe there is a cross-over here that I can pitch to This American Life, or the Moth, or the New Yorker Radio Hour, or whatever other white culture that is trying to pretend that things are just fine just as long as we kind of include some of the people in the world that aren't just the Status Quo assholes that define culture on the left but are still gate-kept by the Mad Whacker in Chief, Jeffery Toobin and the soon to be exposed, David Remnick and Ira Glass.

I mean, I don't know if they did shit, I just assume. I mean, if the culture that created me in the 90's has anything to say about backlash, there is no way in hell that these assholes are clean. It is just a matter of time. But don't worry. All they have to do is deny it and people will forget in a matter of weeks. Because Racist Right learned all it's tricks from the Status Quo Left, who then will learn all their new tricks from the Racist Right, who will learn their new tricks from the Status Quo Left and cycle of life, we will all just live in a shit-soaked trash-heap were nobody says nothing about nobody because we all suck. And it will all be true. But nobody will care because we are just too exhausted.

I mean, this morning I woke up on G's Mom's couch. It was nice. I slept pretty good. Shiver was hanging around. I don't know if she remembers me, but she likes me. I got up. G's Mom had set the timer for the coffee maker, so there was some coffee to drink. I drank some coffee and called Professor Curly, to wish her a happy birthday. We talked about the day before. The Farmers Market. She sold 18 or 19 Cubby Bubbys. Which was nearly half. Grit sold all of her cookies. 40 or so. Or as Grit said; Somewhere between 20 and 50. I tried to get the exact number. She had no idea. She is eight. She will be nine on Monday. We are having a party tomorrow for PC and Grit. At the Compound. With friends. Pinatas. From 2p to 4p. Then I think Professor Curly will drive her Real Estate Wagon to New Ham. I will drive G to Bennington. And then the next couple weeks will be very focused on the future. The trip to Wyoming. The Friday Farmers Market. Getting the air conditioner working on the REW. The brakes fixed on Junior Mint. I need to fix the screens on the house. I should get the New Landlord to do it, but I fear that he moves as slow as a turtle. And you know, the annoying thing about life, about living in this world, there are two kinds of people you have to deal with that are the most irritating, the Squeaky Wheel, the people that just won't shut up so you let them have all the say about shit, and they suck, and the Silent Wheel, the people that say they will do something but can't be depended on to do shit. And I am inside both of these dilemma conundrums. I can insist the New Landlord fix the screens and wait for it to happen, or I just do the work myself and tell him I won't be paying my bills until the money I have invested fixing his screens is recouped. I mean, life. Right? My desire to not have mosquitoes overrides my desire to not have to fix the screens for my landlord. Defered Libertarianism. Speaking of exhausting. Whatever. Quality of life. I mean, I am still not convinced that owning shit is worth the work of owning the thing, but I am increasingly annoyed with the idea that rent is tied to the upkeep of housing.

I mean, I don't mind fixing the screens. And I will. But I hate the idea the rent is not stable. That I will have to re-negotiate rent when the time comes. Because something happens with taxes or something. Inflation. I mean, you either have total control or zero control. And that was what was okay in Brooklyn. You have zero control. You don't do shit. The landlord takes care of it all. And rent is what rent is. But things in the country get nebulous pretty quick. And then it is politics. Because what is important to us is not so much what is important to the landlord. So it becomes a freedom issue. I want the freedom to be left alone, but I also want the freedom to pay rent which means the screens shouldn't let the mosquitoes in. Which therefore means that I have to fix the screens and just shut up about it. And make sure I tell the landlord that I am not paying bills until the cost is recouped. But then I should also rememeber that my time was involved in fixing the screens and then Capitalism comes around again and I get screwed. We all get screwed. I mean, the landlord makes out just fine, but Society gets screwed.

Anyway. I got some ideas. I should work them out. Instead of just whining all the time. I have to go. Tomorrow needs some attention. Later days.