Saturday, December 7, 2013
"Tink by Candle Light"
As you may read below I was insanely ill again. Swell just great. Anyway when I got home from my local snake pit hospital I took some snaps of my trusty Tinkerbell figurine by the light of a scented candle...so romantic.
In a creepy shut-in constantly ill, and grumpy sort of way.
Anyway I've been dragging the damned little gal around with me for nearly 20 years. Don't know how many times I glued her wings, and assorted arms back on.
Well I'm moving to new, and I hope my final digs soon, and the old girl is coming with me. I think I'd like her to be propped up next to my ashes urn when that shake'n bake day comes.
Btw please make sure I'm actually for real no frigging kidding dead before anybody lights any fires. I'd hate for there to be a misunderstanding about that.
"The Secret Room"
As a footnote to my book about my life at radio WBAI, "Eat Shit, and Die you Jew Hating Eunuch!" There's a fascinating story about the engineer's rest office. It began as just a quiet spot for us to chill between illegally long shifts, but grew into much more.
Suffice to say massive drug taking radio program creations plots to overthrow various incompetent managements viewing new movies on industry video before their release...that's how I saw "Star Wars", and "Apocalypse Now".
It was a hot house of intrigue, and profound fun.
Thing is this place was supposed to be a "secret" office. Kind'a sort'a. So in keeping with this being a secret we put a life size "ILSA She Wolf the SS" life size cut out in front of our door.
Covered with blinking Xmas lights.
Eh...this to divert attention.
Ya had to be there.
"Morpine for One"
Well I went the "911" route again. This is becoming more common as the years quickly progress to my ultimate fate. Swell. Anyway there I was again all sick as hell excreting liquids from everywhere.
Why didn't my dad tell me what was coming.
"Son remember when I told your dumb behind about what them bird's, and bee's was up to. Well now it's time for another little chat."
"Look kid I won't shit ya!"
"Getting 'old' is a first class Mother Fucker on skates, and no grease when it pork's you up the butt!"
Can't you just see this on "Father Knows Best".
So I calls "911" I tell the operator I'm some old guy puking green bile, and rolling around on the floor in blinding agony .
Sez she: "...Oh another one..what is it with you guys?"
Sez me: "Hey ya wanna give me a break I'm dy'n over here."
"Okay, okay gramps keep your dildo on I'll send ya a meat wagon."
Well the fellah's show up before I lose too much blood, and other assorted primal liquids. They stuffs me into their oil burner, and off to the hell of American underclass medical help we go.
Would have been better if I just died on my bathroom floor.
As usual I comes to full of tubes.
Oh bless the Morphine gawds! How I wish I could take a family pack of that neat stuff home with me. I began to plan on how I would sneak some outta there. Eh drink it, and piss it out later?
Anyway while I'm planning this drug heist my nurse comes by...she looks nine years old.
??!!
You old fucks out there noticed that? Everybody not our age looks like a fetus. Well junior adjusts my urine bag which I didn't know I had on.
...oh morphine my heavenly angel.
Another embryo changes the I.V. on my right side while Miss urine bag plugs in a fresh needle on my left. It looked like she was giving me an intervenes grape soda.
"...well this should be interesting thinks I."
Lights out.
Whatever these girl scouts gave me put me in the realm of Elysium for a long stretch. I comes to while some Indian doctor is writing something over me.
"Am I dead yet?" I asks.
He smiles, and sez "...Oh not quite yet" in a Pakistani accent.
You gotta be careful about that ya know. Calling an Indian Pakistani or vice versa puts the fat in the fire around here.
Knowing the accents of the Sub-Continent is a necessity in the Emerald City.
Well the doc tells me I'm alive, and goes into stuff I already know, but pretend to be fascinated by. Again life is tricky. Ya has to know how to handle folks.
Bottom line I'm all fixed more or less, but they want me to stay the night for observation. Which in fact means the night nurse reads her Facebook as I sleep in a bed next to the security section.
That's where the prisoners that get knifed on Riker's Island stay.
I went home that morning all patched, and plugged up. I'm healing, but no longer under the wonderful influence of all that morphine,...damn!
More as I get older.
"Lonely Planet"
This is a damned lonely century for some of an age. As we Boomers edge off the stage to everyone's relief. There's an sharp lonesomeness some of us experience.
We're mostly alone these daze.
I did a wailing rant about this on the air a few years back. It was a prayer to all that I thought I had lost,...but in fact hadn't. We lose nothing gang we keep it with us.
Still like a lost child I wailed anyway.
"Where's my Mommy?!"
"Where's my Grandma?!"
"Where's my House?!"
"Where's my Friends?!"
"Where's my School?!"
"Where's my Bike?!"
"Where's the boy I was in love with in high school?!
"Where's our Peach Tree?!"
"Where the Big Summer Moon over Aunt Sybil's House?!
"Where's Daddy?!"
"Where's my Dog?!"
"Where's G-d that Heartless Bitch!!"
"What's going on here?!!"
"This ain't funny anymore!!!"
"Naked Radio"
Thousands of years ago. Oh my it must have been in the early 1980's. Yeah morning in someone's America I heard. Anyway a bunch of trouble makers at the former WBAI radio, eh try wbai.org, and see if it's still there.
Anyway as part of the oral history on my 30 plus years trapped in that dump "Uncle Sydney Remembers" is the working title. "Eat Shit, and Die you Jew Hating Eunuch!" is the real masthead.
I think I'm digressing already.
What I meant to say was that way back then some of the overnight crew. That is engineers, and on air presenters started going to a nude beach together. Out on Jones Beach there was for a time an unofficial nude bathing area.
'Least till that bastard Mayor Koch closed it down.
That prick was everybody's enemy! He was in the pocket of the evil real-estate interests which at that time was kicking out the working poor, and middle class from Manhattan.
His infamous statement at a press conference about that, "If you can't afford it...move." ..said his honor with a smirk!
His head deserved to be impaled on a pike, and paraded about after the merciless hot bloody, and vengeful revolution! ...along with all the lawyers of course.
I digresses again.
Anyway for a few years from late May to the beginning of September we did the beach. This got us used to seeing each other sky-clad or bluejay butt nekkid!
Hey we was 20, and in a few cases teen somethings. That, and mostly stoned out of our minds...horny too.
One thing led to another, and we started being naked at the radio station. At the stroke of midnight when all the serious "day" people had gone home to pray to Stalin or Fidel the night crew took over.
Oh such gleefully though innocent fleshy times. We did some of the most creative New York radio of the era, and did it stoned, and nekkid as the G-ddess intended.
Mind you those of us still breathing, and there ain't that many . What with cancer AIDS, and the stupid bullshit that just happens taking us out.
The few still around probably wouldn't do a stripped down re-run. This for esthetic reasons.
Com'on would you really 'want' to see ya grand folks nekkid..on purpose.
Nuff said.
Like in my story further down about routinely lunching, and walking the ledge of the Empire State Building. My legs dangling over the edge. Oh the things we did, and called normal.
Still what a time we had.
Stay Tuned.
Friday, December 6, 2013
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