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Still Can't Sleep: Trip Notes pt. 2 before/after
fuck man....
weirded out once again....must remember to never go bowling again. never ever, ever.
It was twisted and freakish...americana ..how banal can it get?
i should've known. I shouldve known before stepping a foot in that fuckin' door, that it would be a stone cold bummer. And amidst all the garishness of gaudy shirts and clown shoes, juggling all those egos, fragile like eggshells.
All my friends...they've been getting to know me in spite of myself. Maybe accept me is better said, for I am knowable on several different levels.
So I was flirting with an impressive number of chicks....fuck, man, fuckin unreal. Girls everywhere, just watching, waiting. and the guys moving about through the human mist like sharks, looking to pick up where my attention wasn't, some maybe more like weasels.
And in the midst of it all, I confronted what has been looming in front of me, just glaringly so, that I had been hard pressed to duck.
My dad.
the idea has been rambling around in the back of my head like a kicked-back drifter, finally found his place, and set up shop there, so to speak, to come billowing out at the most invariable difficult of times, when composure was all i had left, vicsiously twisted under the wait of these damn psychadelics...
ahhh....lsd....my friend, come to visit me once again.
So the idea was that bowling sucks, right, it fucking blows, and since my brother wedged his way into the plans, might as well spill the beans.... the beans being my idea for an album for my dad, while he still has the faculties, and who knows, maybe he will for while, but with the steady rate of progression of the illness, causes me to have some doubts, for his birthday
so he can appreciate still appreciatelike a feild of grain wheat field why
susserating waves mysteriously come to light
and the blue, the blue was up on me,
like it was in childhood,
when my head would buck up high
with pride or obnoxiousness to
correct
with a father's love an understanding,
a glimmer of it now
just a glimmer
when i see a father bend low, to tease
prod
cajole his little boy.
So i showed up, drank some beers, got todd high, and man, was he all over the fuckin place, dancing like a stone freak, but somehow the girls like it, that savvy fucker.
rapped a bit with everyone, did not bowl in that hellish alley, up and left at around one for the otherside of town, jammed ofr hours, and came back to find a willing vixern, shelia....yeah, yeah,,,but what the fuck? Y'know...its four a.m., I'm just glad its a girl in my bed, as i can't seem to find my ass with both hands., and all of this came to me as I was face down on the beaver, realizing that this is where i wanted to be. Alls well that ends well, i guess, but what the fuck? I'm not sure how I made it all the way over to the other side of town.
The town was thick with cops. Like gypsy moths, but personally, i don't have the negative reaction that most seemed to have, when ocifer dickhead showed up at the bar/bowling alley
Fuck, i can't believe how long i stayed there, what the fuck is wrong with me, a
a..a..fucking bowling alley ferr' chissake
This is part of what I left the midwest to avoid.
Somehow shelia ended up in my bed, roomies doing, somehow i suspect, from the story that shelia told, which i am also skeptical about, but am not complaining, as I just , well...you know.
Right, covered that.
And bowling seems to be the sport of rolling a ball. Some people roll the ball better than others, thus establishing a boweling hierarchy, wwhere the dominant bowler gets the pick of the litter, returning his genes to the bowling pool so we will always fucking have bowling with us.
je-sus.
In my defensee, I dropped acid, and simply wanted to be with my friends, which was a somewhat rookie tripper mistake. Best to hunker down by the fire and a magnum of weed, some smokes and preferably candle light, with some friends or two...hopefully girls...but solitude would be fine...and get some perspective, as it were.
Instead, my ass ended up at a fucking bowling alley.
Shrewd.
i saw becky, and flirted with her, as well as many fine looking young women, but could not escape the horrible mixture of ennui and existenialism that is the piece of americana known euphamistically in the parlance of our times as "bowling"
oohhhhh, that sucked.
Yet, somehow, i got laid out of the whole deal. Freaky, I know, but man, y'know? What the fuck?
Whatever works.
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