Like I was sort of saying yesterday, my disability has been that I have too much ability. I'm too efficient. You should have seen me at the Post Office. I'd stand in one spot and launch the mailbags into their cages. I finished an 8-hour job by lunch. That's too good. And my computer programming contract, back in '02, was supposed to last longer, but I got it all programmed in three months, all with hard code. And look what happened when I tried my hand at comedy writing - after I already had music. But those rock stars clearly had a problem with my music, as with the above song, originally shared in 2007.
By the way, how's that big new war that started up on the day I rewrote it and posted it? It doesn't look like they've had to declare martial law yet or anything around here. But a big new war suddenly starting up would certainly be more important than me busting the Rolling Stones with my music. They're not allowed to play Halcyon Days anymore, okay? It's my song. Get it from me, please. And they're not allowed to play Nothing but Ashes, or to play my guitar solos. And I wonder how much money they didn't pay me for my music in the last twelve years, to add to the other offenders in my case.
Did I ever tell you I'm a borderline epileptic? My mother had me in her later years, you know. Something was bound to go wrong. But they say that's the disease of the gifted, so maybe I should be honoured. Julius Caesar had it. And he got a whole month named after him.
8:29pm. How's that big new war going? Are we going to appeal to all the senior students in the high schools to join the armed forces? Is the country on def-con-one? Or did they just exaggerate a normal flare-up in that region to distract you from the Rolling Stones getting busted with my song, Daylight Dilemma (Halcyon Days) on that day, which would otherwise have been the top story of the hour? You must think I'm 'weak and unprotected' when the truth is that I stand alone against monumental stars like the Rolling Stones and kick their sorry asses all by myself. That's what you get for trusting those lying, manipulating assholes on TV. Maybe they'll make you brave enough to try something with my songs, so you can go to jail, too.
12:59pm. I was talking to my house friend about the only time I go to a bar. I told him that the only time I go is when I'm thinking of playing there. I like to patronize the place a little first, and get to know the staff, before I ask them. Usually they feel inclined to accept. And then my house friend - who watches a lot of TV - said: 'and then you suck.' Why did this avid TV viewer and AC-DC fan say this about me? I don't think he's even heard one of my videos. And then he wanted to tell me about a show whose title was, People Who Don't Know They Suck. What made him think of that? So I'm now going to talk directly about people who don't know if I suck. After all, I don't need to imitate everything the TV says when I don't watch it.
People who don't know if I suck have never seen me perform because I've played no live shows here since December 2010 and hardly anyone came to support my show when I played. It's not fair to say I suck live when I haven't even taken my songs to the stage yet. They may also wish to judge me on how I sounded ten years ago, back when I only knew a handful of my songs and bands were on the radio with the other 200, but that's not fair either. And they want everyone to think I'm going to be playing my music in my room or in the hallway of a storage space, with the whole background coming out of my amp, rather than through a P.A. No, I'm sure that I can make it sound at least as good as my demo if I played through a P.A. People who don't know if I suck built their lives out of my music and comedy and now they say I suck when I want to build my own life out of it. And people who don't know I suck also don't even know what songs I will play at a live venue because I may not have even written it yet for the first time. People who don't know if I suck tell everyone I suck as I rewrite songs that made their players loved and called artists and poets and Jesus on the radio. I think it's most unfair and unreasonable.
And how's that war with Iran going? You know, the one that broke out the day I rewrote the Rolling Stones 2007 hit Halcyon Days (which I called Daylight Dilemma) earlier this year. Are we sending over the aircraft carriers and troops? Or was that just an exaggeration of a never ending problem in the Middle East that could take your mind off the Rolling Stones getting busted for the second time by my song sharing on the internet? If so, that's not fair either.
I have my father's love of hard work in me. I love hard work. One of the guys in my building saw me on the floor, scraping off the gunk line from where the floor meets the wall, and said: 'Did you go through the 'Redemption Program' in jail?' No, that program is for people who are punished by hard work. I love it. And I'm pretty normal that way, I think. We love working hard on things that will improve our lives. I see it all around me when I see how well kept the lawns and gardens are here, for instance. I'm a bit strange with my need to be the very best at my job, though, perhaps. I always need to outperform everyone else. In web design school, I didn't just learn Dreamweaver but the whole JavaScript programming language. When I write comedy, it tends to be much better written than what most others are offering. And when I write music, I think you can hear the difference made by my effort, which allows my music to have a nice wide range between mellow and heavy, as well as to explore many other time signatures outside 4/4. And if I ever decided to perform, I'm sure that the listeners - if anyone showed up to listen - would appreciate the effort I put into practicing beforehand.
So 200 songs, most of which had to be pulled off the radio. And 1050 comedy scripts, almost all of which had to be pulled off of popular TV shows. And now I suck live before I can even know what music I'm going to play for my show and have even had a minute to practice? I can't decide on my set until I'm sure I've caught up with all my old songs. Is that a good enough reason to hesitate after ten years of having to pull them off of the radio? I think so.
As for People Who Don't Know They Suck, are they on TV anyway? Well then, I guess they at least know that they're rich. And they also know that the business that showers them with riches has no problem with handing them my hard work to claim as their own - at least until they get caught - when they're lazy fuckers who don't want to put enough effort into their material.
I wanted to share something last night, but I couldn't get to the library in time. (It closes at 6:00pm on Saturday and Sunday.) I bumped into someone from twelve years ago, a cotenant from my old apartment building on East 8th Avenue. I invited him over to my building, which was nearby. He was a bit wary about entering a rooming house, at first. I took him up the steps and through the whole place, and he went sniffing around on his own here and there. After about five minutes, he said, 'this is a good place.' He wants to move in. He thinks it's clean and quiet and well looked after. He went into the downstairs bathroom, which I only treated with bleach the day before, and came out saying, 'this place is clean.' He went up the staircase, whose banister I just painted last year, and said, 'nice old wood work in this place.' He went into the bathroom closest to my room, whose tub I only cleaned recently with oven cleaner, and said, 'that looks like a comfortable, deep tub.' He stood in front of the door that formerly belonged to a tenant who was using the bathroom for his girlfriend to turn tricks for 'meth' money, and said, 'it's very quiet here.' And after all that, he said, 'is it always like this here?' I said, 'no.' But he still wants to move in. He was quite impressed.
When I moved in, as I ascended that staircase, with paint hanging off the wall and ugly brown stains all over the place and seven different tones of chipped paint on the banister and dust piled an inch high on top of the sprinkler system, I thought for a moment that I might be entering directly into Satan's asshole. And before I bleached that downstairs bathroom from floor to ceiling, you couldn't walk by its open door without being offended. What a coincidence that I bumped into this guy only the very next day.
Conditions have improved in our home since we left the care of the non-profit organization that sent me there. Its new tenants are quieter because they are chosen by one of us instead of by strangers who don't live in the building. Its cleaning is better because it is being done by someone who lives in the areas being cleaned. Painting and renovations have begun, and stand to transform the whole place before I leave. The beauty of fixing up a rent controlled building like mine is that its rent stays fixed after the improvements have been made. So you get to live in a nicer home for the same money. That is my goal. Were I still living in my old apartment at East 8th, the landlord could and would increase my rent based on such improvements.
I'm a little sore today, though, after struggling all week to clean out all the hard-to-clean places. And I think I may have inhaled a little too much bleach yesterday in that bathroom, so I'm going slow for the next little while.
Funny thing, this guy asked me, on the way over to my front door, 'Dave, you're not going to say anything against Trump, are you? Or I'll turn around and go right now.' I said, 'No, I don't hate Trump. He's never done anything to me that I know about.' And he said, 'Good, because anyone who wants to make it acceptable for a man in his seventies to have a twenty-seven-year-old wife is my kind of president.' (In so many words.) I suppose most men, including myself, would pat Trump on the back for that. I guess guys in their fifties, like me and my friend, will just have to content ourselves with eighteen-year-olds until we reach Trump's age.
Oh, I almost forgot: Saturday Night Live sucks cocks in hell. I don't care how much their network's brainless broadcasting appears to contradict me when it supports them.
My song above, was first written in 2007. I no longer recall who stole it, but he better not be playing it anymore. It could turn out to be about me - if I ever get rich. I'll soon be eliminating the endless links of my past posts on every page because they take up too much room. It should all be available from my index links (Songs, Statements, Scripts) at the bottom of each page here anyway.
See you later. If I'm not posting online as much, it's because I'm busier at home.
