Futile Horn

06.16.2004 - 1:10 am (They were once normal... now they're ninjas)

I had a fairly joyless time in the city today. For all the reading and wandering around I did it'd be impossible for nothing of note to happen, but it was nonetheless a downer. I really wanted to write a new song today and I had a bit of a melody in my head, but I had trouble coming up with anything coherent to sing about. I strolled around stopping to write a line here or there as it came to me (perhaps making me one of New York's crazies, I don't know), but I've no sense that any line sensibly follows another. I suppose I could line them all up and make a sort of magnetic poetry out of it (I consider myself something of a talent at that silly game) which I've tried before and which works better than one would think because on a given day you tend to be drawing all your ideas off the same page whether you realize it or not, but it's a B or C rate creativity that makes you feel dumb or lazy even on the occasion when it works out reasonably well.

A Bob Marley parody "Sit down Shut Up Ain't Got Balls to Fight" from a street performer was as amusing as it got.

I wore shorts for once today. I've taken to sitting by the fountain watching people wet their pooches and their toddlers. I am bored by that guy who plays a riff for an hour and never sings and irritated by the guy who howls his songs without making any sense. The drug dealer constantly chattering behind my head always on the brink of losing his cool hasn't grown on me yet either.

I haven't seen Jesus in a while. I am starting to wonder if I will ever get to pay someone to beat the shit out of him. It's not blasphemy or anything. If anything, he's the blasphemer, pretending to be Jesus while being bad at the trumpet. Everyone knows Jesus can really wail.

On the train I sat next to a man with a sketchbook who was drawing pictures of a the women sitting across from him. The women never showed any sign of noticing what he was doing. The one moved the hand he was drawing. He grunted a complaint and I nearly laughed. Then he drew her shoes. It wasn't until he started drawing the shoes that I knew for sure he was drawing the women, because hands are everywhere but only that women had those shoes on. Hands and feet are creepy. If he had been doing her face or her tits it would have bothered me less. I thought I should say something to let him know I saw him drawing, or to let the women know they were being drawn but I didn't. Creepy.

After I got off the train I went to the fountain and wrote lines about the girls with matching tattoos on their ankles. Right next to the feet even. Who's creepy now? Next time face and tit lines only.

The cafe down on 1st has bare breasts hanging on the wall, but not all the exposed bosoms were painted today. A woman came in wearing a top that left most of her right titty to the air when she raised her arm. But not the left one, despite the top being symmetrical, which confused me a lot. I was thinking if I startled her I could get her to bounce out, but she'd have to bounce out the side, which is weird. She had a 12 year old girl with her. She was Stacy's mom. I've always been intimidated by Stacy's mom because I figure she either wants your money or she wants to eat you alive. Assuming she wants you (men always assume she wants you). I've thought about it for more time than strictly necessary, and I couldn't conjure up a third alternative. I was sitting next to where they keep the napkins and sugar and stuff, and if she had come over to get a straw or something, I was resolved to smash her with my ice tea.

So yes, for those of you paying attention, I was sitting in the exact same spot at about the exact same time I as I was a week before. You want to make something of it?

I think I saw a sign that said something like "One God One Party -- For a Non Dissenting Theoracy". I didn't stop to stare at it, but every time I looked the sign didn't change. I can only imagine that word was meant to be Theocracy. If there is anything sadder than oppression it's that the opposition is illiterate.

Pepe, the would-be savior confesses, "I wanted to save the world, but I didn't want to look stupid doing it." People I keep telling you, if you want to change things, if don't want to smother Pepe with the embarrassment of you, you have to read books. One is not enough!

You'd have to be crazy to not have expected the Voice to react to the way the media has chosen to remember our late 40th president but... I mean, I was never a fan but dudes, don't make fun of a dead man's Alzheimer's. That's fucked up shit.

Born to play the funky céilí,
Futile Horn