Friday, January 21, 2011

TDC WEAW Night Flight Is On

The power is back up, thank you, fucking blizzard.

Today's post will be a short one.


To you from Dotta. She says to crank up the bass on this one.

Wintertime in Fuckno sometimes meant heavy rainfall in that high desert valley, but for this weekend, it was warm and sunny, as the summer days are up in New England. Hell, even the heavy rainfall seemed like New England in the summertime.

In the desert when it rains, it can be a sea change. Rivers appear in the arroyos out of nowhere, and you can get caught in one and then drown in the desert.

The heated pool lent itself to languid, lithe nubiles in various states of repose, while smoke and wine dulled the edges of the sharp blue sky.

I thought of some strange German chick in a jet, flying back to her vaterland, which means"fatherland" in her own tongue, but almost looks like "Waterland," which speaks to me, since I am from a tribal river culture that has existed here for ten thousand years.

I wondered if one of the white jet streams above in the blue sky belonged to her path, but like a blue-shadowed ski trail in white snow, colors reversed.

I wished her to live well, in my revelry, and wondered if I would ever see her again.

I never did.


Well, fuck it, I thought to myself. I went to go see what Sean and Bryan were up to.

I met Bryan at the sliding glass door that led from the deck to the dining room table to which I had already been formally introduced. He was all excited. “Will. I found it!”

I shrugged and said, “How nice. Now don’t go playing with it too much or you’ll grow hair on your palms and go blind.”

He shook his head, and said in a stage whisper, “No! I found the secret porn stash!”

My ears perked up. “Hah?”

He swung around. “Follow me,” he said as he went back inside, “and mind the table. It will cock punch you, so I hear.”

I passed folks in the hallway going to and fro from left to right. It was like a dormitory for crying out loud. Bryan turned a corner and disappeared further into the recesses of the long ranch. I swear this place was a mile long. It was not built like a trailer or a double wide.

It was built, instead, like an amusement park thoroughfare, with right angles here and there; it had alley and rooms that held who knew what. I figured that Bryan knew what most of them held.

He had been snooping again.

Now let me tell you this. The Go To Jail Party was scheduled to begin this day's night. The previous partying was due to our checking out Tellesco's place. All of the new found friends we had whom Tellesco had fed were from Bullard high, thanks to Ant Knee, Sean's brother.

Those who were still there, those hot chicks and their young preppy men who had witnessed me and Bryan crawling out on the deck all fucked up and then drowning and then lining up to the stars, well, they would help us in the melee that followed.

The Strange-Looking Dude would return this night with friends, because those rich Bullard kids had purchased all of his wares the previous night, and they wanted even more.

This is the actual Night Flight.


It would not end well.

Now, before Joey showed up with Tommy Hewitt, the dude who tried to warn Joey about Katheena, as Joey had tried to do for me, well, Bryan had found the secret porn stash.

This explained a lot to me.

Bryan knew that there must be some freaky porn shit, but not from his own purchases. It might have been from his own experiences. What the fuck?

And this,


This was the porn stash of Tellesco's father.

I would begin to understand some things about these two.


Why did Tellesco fawn over Sean?

Why did Bryan search for such a hidden, forbidden stash that he was so certain existed?

This is a nexus for them both, and, well...

Here's a tune to help us along our way.

Whether it was conscious or not, Bryan was revealing something very important to me, and to hisseff.

He was tearing down some walls, before he got pent up behind some more.

The porn stash he showed me, behind another hidden panel behind one of the rear closets was quite revealing.

And that is a tale for next weekend. I promise you.


But let's get back to the Go To Jail Party that was just starting, shall we?

Bryan and I were without words. I told him to close it back up, and to hide it.



Yes, there are certain things which must remain hidden from the light of day and discovered anew, when the day grows dark, after angels fall to Earth, and when there is not a big celebration occurring for your last little bit of freedom.

Freedom can mean many things.

This sort of freedom can be only ascertained when there is silence and open eyes.

So we went back to his Go To Jail Party.


Hundreds of people began to show up.

Word had gotten out.

Ant Knee showed up with a new ska band, to join the other for the frivolity to ensue.

The Strange Looking Dude who had the powder also showed up with a band.

A fucking Punk band.

Can I get a tahoo?

This guy was huge in many ways more than girth. His face looked to have been dragged from the river after a week beneath it, all washed out and pale. His hair was long and purple, swung over to the right of his head, revealing a shaved scalp all the way around.

It could make a magnificent mohawk.

He wore a black leather jacket with a skull spray-painted on the back that had the word "Misfits" below it, and this jacket had screwed in metal points on each elbow, as well as the shoulders.

He wore black leather pants, ending with boots that had chrome-plated shin guards and toe points.

He was tall.

He liked to break bones.

His name was Jerry.

Tomorrow, baby.


Now for some frivolity.

Evolution explained in animated graffiti. Lots of work went into this, on buildings.

Who doesn’t like T-shirts? C’mon. OK, what you wear tells a lot about you.

You know how when you let someone in their car get into traffic from a parking lot even while folks are honking at you to get the hell going before the light turns from green to amber then red?

It’s me. Sorry about that. But it can make someone’s day. Hell, I always appreciate it. Good karma. Of course, good karma isn’t bought if that is your only intention of being nice. So, what about a town in India where folks do not lock their doors, or even their local bank?

That being said, don’t give up on SNL. Here are five recent best reasons.

Also, here are the top 5 things that video games have taught us.

It’s all about perspective. Look at the first link, then turn your face to see other ones.

Best rum evah. A good long night for your lady.

Hoop Doctors top ten NBA moments.

Cool clothing changes from some fashion site, from 1995 to now… Shexxy.

Cool site of pics.

Does this remind you of the 50’s? Yeah, we are old. Your car can save you in case the commies blast us with nukulerr bombs. Now go hoard whiskey and ammo.

Awful music, but this kid vid is for those of us who are hooked on Angry Birds.

Shhhmoking. Oh, I need a ciggie right now after watching this, but it’s been a year since your friend willies bought a pack...

God Help You.

God Help Us All.

---willies out.

OK, two more for ya.

Sammy Hagar Sound, for some of ya: Black Country Communion “One Last Soul”

Or this; Smiths/Morrissey-style. Is that redundant?

Boxer Rebellion. Step Out Of The Car.


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