City of Legends

I am sitting here, doing a breakdown on an RFP (Request for Proposal) for a contract bid with the Army (I will say no more) and flipping between frames of reference.  I keep getting crude and suggestive text messages from an old friend.  I tell her it’s foreplay, she tells me I wish it was.  I laugh.

I check the news.  Falsely indignant political figures and airbrushed movie starlets still get more press than the brave men and women fighting and dying overseas.  That’s something I can get indignant about.

A few more people have contacted me to get involved with Guerrilla Poetry Day (GPD).  Yay!  Hold it.

Just had to answer another crude, sexually suggestive text message.  Some people need to get a life.  Ideally their own.

When I get home in about an hour, after stopping by the local 7-11 to see if the new Rolling Stone with Adam Lambert on the cover is out (not for me, but my ex has been looking for a copy and I don’t believe in treating people as poorly as they treat you.  Some guy a while back said something about do good even to those who do evil to you.  An attitude in short supply in this world, but still something I try to embrace.)  The kid has pipes, although he needs to pick his projects better than that marginally atrocious musical of the Ten Commandments with Val Kilmer as Moses.  I want to meet the lyricist in a dark alley.

Looking at the label of my SoBe LifeWater, I have to admit I did not know there was a daily requirement for chromium.  Hmm.  Maybe I need more of that.  Can you get it from eating old cars?

Whn I get home I am going to mow the lawn with the boys.  It is getting pretty Amazonian jungle due to the massive amounts of rain we’ve been getting.  Then I will collapse and work on some new project material for the CD, the book and GPD.  I may try and call my friend Alan, whom I can never get on the phone and who never makes long distance calls himself so I haven’t actually spoken to him since…er…since December of 2007.  I kid you not.  Last time I lost touch with him I didn’t reconnect for 32 years.  I kid you not.  I actually thought he was dead.

Free associating this morning whilst working on the guitar lines for Aubergine (be prepared to lose brain cells to a sonic apocalypse (good name for a band)) I recalled one of my favourite scenes in a film. Val Kilmer in "Real Genius" being a bit random but in the way I sometimes am. Val plays arrogant, fun loving Chris Knight in the movie…

Mitch: You know, um, something strange happened to me this morning…
Chris Knight: Was it a dream where you see yourself standing in sort of sun-god robes on a pyramid with a thousand naked women screaming and throwing little pickles at you?
Mitch: No…
Chris Knight: Why am I the only one who has that dream?

…and I smirked. Really. Any idea how long it has been since an honest-to-Arioch smirk was on this face? A while. Which means either I am regaining my traction on the scrith of life, or the alien pod people have already swapped me out for a plant-based lifeform. In any case, it was good to feel it bloom on my face.

I am going to go on vacation in July, as mental prep for the tour, and to see an old friend or two or one that I haven’t spent time with in some time. And beyond that is is nobody’s business but mine own where I will be and what I will be doing and with whom. It is time to recenter myself, with a vengeance.

Go do something meaningful, people. I’m keeping one foot in the nefarious zone for the time being, but the survival instincts kicked in. Well, actually, more like the regenerative powers…I did pretty much hit the ground as fast or faster than I ever had before.