Nightmares, Pipe Dreams, Some Technical Notes and a Post-Coital Debriefing

I'm in desperate straits. My money is all gone, my car isn't expected to live much longer, the prospect of a new job seems to be all grin and no cat- other than the debacle at the music store, I haven't gotten one serious reply to any of my dozens of applications- not one.
I am getting more than nervous- I am getting scared.

Monday I called one of the agencies that I contract with. They aren't great with the pay, but usually have something - why no jobs?, I asked.

"We have you as inactive."

"What? I was there two weeks ago- I brought my passport in for my paperwork, took a PC test- inactive? Huh?"

"Who did you test with?"

"Morgan."

There was a pause. Mute. Un-mute.

"She doesn't work here any longer. Can you come back next week? We don't have anything this week anyway."

Aaarrgh. Sure, what's another week without income? I have 28 days before I get evicted- what's the rush?

One thing about being unemployed is that it gives one a lot of time to contemplate all the things one could do if one could ever get one's periods of financial security to synchronize with one's periods of leisure time.

If I could find a good job, I would save up and buy myself a vacation.

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For three years myself and many others have been busting our unpaid asses to make our radio station the most successful non-profit, listener-supported, independent LPFM station ever.
This week begins our annual Fall Pledge Drive- as I write this, I'm waiting to hear from our station manager.
She is shopping for gear to replace what just broke.

I'm waiting to hear something like this:

"The new console is at the station, along with a box of new cables. Can you come down and install it?"

That will be music to my ears- literally!

I actually enjoy doing stuff like installing audio consoles. I'm also looking forward to something that isn't an Alesis USB MultiMix board. If you are shopping for a mixer, do not buy an Alesis MultiMix. Ours has been repaired twice and replaced once in the year since we bought it...all under warranty, but still...

We've been having endless equipment headaches and the timing on the latest breakage could not be worse. Somehow, the show will go on, but some of us are getting tired of literally duct-taping things together while watching the seconds count down on the studio clock...I feel like the character in a bad TV drama, trying to decide which wire to cut on a ticking bomb...5,4,3,2,1...live broadcasts are not for the timid.


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For weeks, I've been having nightmares featuring endless chalkboards- old-fashioned classroom-style blackboards spiraling up and down like Escher's staircases, all covered in some sort of scrawl - letters, numbers...I can't tell.
When I wake up, the writing is lost.

The last time I had that dream, the slate had been wiped clean. Just plain blackish-grey with a light tan wooden frame...I think the ocean was in the background.

That morning I woke up in an unfamiliar place. I wasn't alone.

"...mmm...g'morning."

"...mornin' "

"Hey, let me tell you about this dream I had- I've been having- it's about you, I think..."

"About me? You dream about me? Really? Keep talking..."

"Well, yeah...mmm...it's the blackboard one I told you about...it's an equation, I think..."

"Oh, that dream...in that case, keep talking while I make coffee. Be right back."


Long stories are told...

"...so anyway, I've felt like I've owed you something from back then...something good, but it wasn't in me to give that... I was too busy fucking up everything I touched- even now, I'm afraid that I'm messing up your life...it's been bothering me for years..."

"Hey. Enough. My life has always been a mess. I was the one who fucked you over, if I remember...I was surprised that you still talk to me...oh crap, I gotta go get the kids from their dad..."

"But that dream, you see...last night... I..."

"Look, me and [husband] are trying to sort it out. I'm sorry if I gave you the wrong idea..."

"No, not at all...it was perfect- see, the blackboard..."

"...but we can't do this again."

"...was blank. I think that means that we are even."

"Even?"

"Yeah."

"I like that."

1986- Not Such A Great Year

This is the cover of a calendar that my mother's boyfriend, Cal Sorenson, produced in 1985. That is my mother in the middle, Cal is the animal that isn't a horse.
He was a bizarre man and he took a lot of photographs before he vanished in the early Nineties; he's almost certainly dead by drink by now, I am sure.
My mother carried those photos with her for years after Cal left her; in fact, she carried them with her until she died.

I don't know why she did that.

Those photographs, slides and films became mine after Mom died.

Some I destroyed.

Some I kept.

I liked Cal when I met him, he was the only 'Mom BF' that showed any interest in being my friend. He taught me how to fire a rifle, even if it was only a .22...Cal had apparently been a Special Forces sniper operating in Cambodia during the 'Nam war and a biathlon athlete afterwards - I was never sure what to believe, but he could use a 30.06 to put a perfect star pattern on a target so far away I couldn't even see it without a scope. And he could throw knives, kicks and punches with equal precision, so I knew he'd been into something...just not sure what.
Cal also got paid to take pictures of balloons and rodeos , which I thought was a pretty cool way to make money.

But my mother never did have any luck with men, and Cal was no exception.
See this? These are the credits from the back of the calendar:
So what's the problem?
Well.
My mother spelled her name 'Janice' NOT "Janis." Cal, who she was living with, didn't even bother to make sure he spelled her name correctly even though he could not have finished the project without my mother's help and money.
This calendar sold several thousand copies in Park City, which was a much less-traveled destination back then- Peter Fonda bought one. Paul Anka got mom to sign his.
Those of you who remember when the Tonight Show was referred to as 'Carson' might recall bandleader Doc Severinsen's frequent laments about his ex-wife. Doc's ex-wife (see credits above) owned the bookstore that Mom worked at and she (and I) got to meet lots of celebrities as they visited Evonne's store.

To mom, having her picture on the front of a calendar that real-life famous people were buying was a big deal. Mom grew up poor and stayed that way most of her life, but during this brief period she was happy. The famous people liked her for the same reasons everyone else did- she was fun to be around. She was always doing new things, skiing, photography, drawing...trying to learn as much as she could about the world, despite having no real education.

It meant a lot to her that Cal used her as a model and I knew she expected him to propose marriage, he used to hint at it all the time - look at the freekin'pic-but he didn't have any intention of doing that.
He didn't even spell her name correctly.
He was living with her and he couldn't spell her name.
This hurt her a lot- an awful lot- but it took me years to understand that.

Years later, when I had my very first paid comic book story published, the publisher mis-spelled both my first and last names in the credits. I pointed this out to mom and she pulled out one of these old calendars.
Me too, she said.
Mom and I shared a bitter laugh at our own expense.

During this time, I was fairly happy too-I was 18, I had a place of my own and a really sexy girlfriend named Natalie, who just happened to sing and play piano. We were gonna form a band and be famous underground artists- it was inevitable. Fate.
I was nuts about that girl.

One day, when I was visiting Mom, Cal gave me a manila envelope. He asked me to give it to Natalie when I saw her next- sure, no problem.
What's in here?
Photos.
Ooo, cool. Let's look.

What. the. fuck.

That's Natalie on the left.

Tame by today's standards, but I was 18 and had only had two lovers in my life- and one of them was in this picture. I wasn't ready for that.

There were other photos, but I didn't see them all until much, much later.

I asked Cal what the hell was up with the naked graveyard pics of my girlfriend.

"She didn't tell you?"

He claimed that some semi-adult magazine had commissioned him to do some naked vampire shots...well, OK, he really was a pro photographer... but there's another man's penis in a photo with my girlfriend and I didn't much care for that.

So I took the pics to Natalie's...and it was pretty clear she hadn't planned on having me see them. She thought I wouldn't understand and she was right.

"How much did Cal pay you?"

"$100" (a lot back then)

"Did you fuck the naked guy?"

"No, he is gay. It was just pictures, is all."

I should have stopped right there, but I didn't.

"How about Cal? Did you fuck Cal?"

"Uh...."

"You fucked Cal! How cou..."

"Ah, no. I didn't fuck Cal. He asked me fuck myself with a lit candle though."

"....did...you...?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not? A hundred bucks is a hundred bucks..."

My mother's boyfriend was paying my girlfriend to masturbate while he took pictures of her.

I think I started pulling my records out of Natalie's collection and smashing them at this point. I don't remember much after that.

But it was over.

Fuck Doll Ruins Holiday

"Mommy, my doll told me to fuck off!"

The hysteria is exceeded only by the idiocy...

Click the link below this story for the video. It's workplace safe- they actually bleeped the alleged naughty word out.

Can you f*cking believe this sh*t?



There's also a link to a story about a dog whose fur pays homage to the Crucifixion...the owner, who is obviously a lunatic (check out what the dog is forced to wear if you need proof) , is treated as credible by the 'newsteam investigators' , who are neither credible nor sane.

The doggie story may be slightly more deranged than than the doll story... but it's close.