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Loogie unhocked

It was a nice day to do nothing, which is what I did, interrupted only for a jaunt to the Rainbow to stock up on beans and rice and et cetera.

On my way out of the building, I was annoyed to see a Chronicle sports page in the hotel lobby, so I stuffed it in the trash can. 

Atop the BART escalator, some scab was selling papers, and I shouted at him, “You make me sick.” He said something back to me, but I couldn’t hear it, riding the rolling stairway down.

In the station, yet another strikebreaker was selling a tall stack of papers. Newspapers everywhere, many more this morning than I’d seen in the last week and a half. My mood was dropping like a hooker’s panties, so I growled up a thick wad of phlegm and took aim at an Examiner front page, and bent over to spit at it from inches away.

Tongue curled, lips puckered, loogie loaded, here it comes — but at the last moment I decoded the banner headline, upside down from my angle:

pǝlʇʇǝs ǝʞᴉɹʇs ɹǝdɐdsʍǝN

Swallowed my spit and kept walking, but regretted it within footsteps. Yeah, I should've loogied that stack of papers. If it’s still headline news that the strike has been settled, then that issue of the Examiner was written by scabs, and I’m not buying it.

Won’t buy tomorrow’s paper, either, because the vote to ratify usually takes a few days. Maybe on Monday morning I’ll buy a Chronicle from the old guy in the newsbooth at Powell @ O’Farrell, tip him big, and get back in the habit of reading the daily lies.

♦ ♦ ♦

After lazing and grazing the rest of the day, I was thinking about unanswered letters, with a sunken feeling in my gut. Letters to write is an obligation, and I hate obligations. 

It's something I hadn't anticipated about making a zine — letters. There are two letters to be answered on my end table, one magnetized to the fridge, one taped to the light switch, and one next to the typewriter.

People read the zine, like it I guess, and that's what I'm hoping for. They write letters, and I love the letters ... but writing a letter back to Billy Bob Bifflesnort in Hog’s Hide, Iowa feels like a chore.

And after that, four more letters to write? Hell, I don't write that many letters to my family in a year.

There are other things on my to-do list — go to the movies, read zines and a few novels I’ve been meaning to get to, gross out tourists in Union Square, talk back to the street preachers, etc. Gotta write this drivel, too.

Therefore I am absolving myself of all guilt over unanswered letters. The new policy will be:

Letters are excellent and appreciated. I read 'em all, and print selected highlights if they’re interesting. But letters are never owed. You don’t owe me a letter, and I don’t owe you a letter, so those five letters are in the bin now.

If it sounds like I'm an ass, let me explain: I'm an ass.

From Pathetic Life #6
Saturday, November 12, 1994

This is an entry retyped from an on-paper zine I wrote many years ago, called Pathetic Life. The opinions stated were my opinions then, but might not be my opinions now. Also, I said and did some disgusting things, so parental guidance is advised.

Pathetic Life 

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15 comments:

  1. You're an ass but it's a compliment.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Tis a sad day

    My mom shrunk my cartoon sock collection.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Huh? What are you talking about?

      Delete
    2. Brandon takes the conversation wherever he likes. Usually it's a nice ride.

      Delete
    3. I've never had cartoon socks, you'll need to explain a bit further. Like, the Flintstones?

      I am sorry for your loss, though.

      Delete
    4. No like 90s era cartoons

      Cartoons like: Doug, Rugrats, Catdog, Sponge Bob, and my favorite Rockos Modern Life

      (Lets go for a ride together!)

      Delete
    5. I've heard of Sponge Bob. And I am Doug. (?) so what happened, were the socks destroyed in the laundry?

      Delete
    6. There is a cartoon called Doug. His crushes name is Patty.

      Delete
    7. Mom just shrunk the socks so when I wear them they slide off my feet so i am constantly taking my shoe off or reaching down to pull it back on.

      This all started when i hurt my back last week or the week before
      , i cant remember

      I couldnt walk.

      Mom came over becasue thats what moms do. She did dishes which i told her not to, she did laundry which i was okay with casue i was litterally out of everything.

      Im still gonna wear these socks though. Even if i need to wear a rubberbnd around them.

      Delete
    8. So — long story long — your socks shrunk because they were washed in hot water?

      Sorry about your back, and hope you're doing better. Back pain is miserable, I know. It's so bad they made a cliché about it.

      Delete
    9. Yep. hot water and \cartoon socks, not a good combination. my back is much better learned my lesson. Jane fonda aerobics are not for me.

      Delete
    10. Hey, I used to watch Jane Fonda aerobics! I never did Jane Fonda aerobics, though. God no.

      Always liked that guy, Richard Simmons? Sweatin' to the Oldies? I did a little of that, very briefly. I like the oldies, didn't like the sweatin'.

      Delete
    11. I love "long story long", still laughing!

      Delete

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