Johnny plays stand up bass around Boston now. He used to tear it up on an Air Force base in Heidelburg, though he’s no military man:

“Princess, my dreams are coming true one by one. Thankfully I’m not being chased by a flying playing card. But the one where I’m a swinging musical dude, gigs here, sessions there, coming in at the last minute and playing better than the guy I’m filling in for, and did I mention I’m very swinging, and also a cat? It was amazing last night. I think you’ve been to TT’s. It was an unplugged type singer/songwriter deal they do on Mondays. Nobody brings a doghouse player to these things. Nobody has a doghouse player. Nobody has ever met a doghouse player. L. was gracious enough to mention that she had only just asked me to do the gig on Friday. My Mr. Professional reading shot right off the dial. L. is great, but god DAMN, I was good. Everyone had to compliment me and ask for my card. Now I know how it feels to be the most beautiful girl in the room. Even the most beautiful girl in the room asked for my card. I say god DAMN! Can I get a witness?”

*************************************

Yessirree Bob, I need a cup of coffee. Despite my propensity for small, local evil I click ten times on this website first thing every morning: http://www.thehungersite.com/cgi-bin/WebObjects/CTDSites. Either that, or I’ve found the voodoo section of Field & Stream and I’m blearily sticking pins in Dick Cheney.

Blogging for beginners, Step 1: Type not, dulcet darling, before thy first cup of coffee. Fatigue is hazardous to one’s verb forms.

Eons ago, a little blurb I wrote in a Paxil haze ended up in Rob Breszny’s Free Will Astrology column. Last month, Robin Renee forwarded to me correspondence with a Californian who mistook her for me. So I wrote to this interesting stranger. I mean, I had 3000 miles of personal space if said stranger should prove dangerous. Anyway, getting her emails is more fun than pie-facing your compatriots, and I’m sure of this because for my birthday one year I got 240 lbs. of pudding.

What fun! Reduced paranoia, interesting letters, stories I haven’t heard before. We should all have an interesting stranger.

Ever get so sick of yourself you think ‘If I don’t start doing something new and different there’s going to be an Unfortunate Incident at the Kentucky Fried Chicken, with film at 11’? Yeah, me too. If we pass one another on the way to making this terrible mess, let’s double-park on Easton Avenue, exit our vehicles and incite onlookers to riot. But with music, so technically it’s dancing.

Maybe Poor Impulse Control needs a daily tipline for poorly controlled impulsives, who could ring up and hear wacky thoughts: “Lips do not exfoliate. You must assist them.” Who else is going to tell you the ugly cartoon truth?

first blog!

http://poorimpulsecontrol.net/