Wednesday June 13th, 2012 – Fox Lake, IL
Oh, how I wish life were like an Etch-A-Sketch and I could just turn it upside down whenever I got sick of what I was doing and start over with a clean slate after a few shakes. Wouldn’t that be swell, by golly? Jeepers criminy, it sure would be. You’re darn tootin’. It would be just dandy.
Unfortunately, life on this here cosmic plane doesn’t happen to fly like that. I think I must have missed my connecting flight somewhere and am stuck here without a travel agent. This place has some strange rules, and I’m going crazy trying to figure them out. It feels like I’m being Punk’d.
Today was a perfect example. I was taking my morning walk and stopped to use the bathroom in a Laundromat not far from where I live. There was a pile of magazines lying around and as a lark I paged through all of them to see if I could find one that did NOT picture any Kardashians.
EVERY last one of them did. Was I surprised? I guess I shouldn’t be, but I kind of was. I have been trying to do dangerously close to anything within the bounds of what’s legal to get at least a tiny bit of media coverage and the best I’ve ever been able to do is five minutes on late night TV.
And I was happy to get that. Then I came out of the bathroom and heard two people discussing the death of Henry Hill, the gangster who was played by Ray Liotta in ‘Goodfellas’. This wasn’t any kind of hero to emulate, but because people knew who he was he enjoyed a celebrity’s life.
He was apparently a regular guest caller on The Howard Stern show, and I’d heard him several times being interviewed on other shows as well. Again, where’s the justice? Here’s an individual who freely admits he participated in innumerable felonies, but yet when he dies it’s in the news.
Unless I do something noteworthy but quick, I won’t even get a mention in the back of the free shopper paper’s back page with the lost dog ads and 900 bi curious sex numbers. I’m trying to be honest and by the book, but nobody gives a rip. Whores and gangsters? THAT gets ink. Really?
Strumpets and Mafiosos? Sluts and criminals? Hosebags and henchmen? Is that what it takes to win the admiration and attention of the American public? Those all sound like a title of a Warren Zevon album. Again, he’s dead from a long ugly battle with cancer, and Charles Manson is alive.
Where IS that mothership? I’m about ready for a ride back to my home planet, wherever it may be. I really don’t think it’s here, or I’d have to believe I’d feel more at home in the midst of all of this constant insanity. I don’t. I just grit my teeth and try to plow through another day of lunacy.
I did take my walk today and it felt great. The weather was beautiful, and that was nice as well. I ate healthy foods, and drank a lot of water. The basic needs of life were there, so I felt lucky to have those not to mention grateful. I’m trying not to only focus on what’s wrong, but it’s tough.
I wrote some articles today I’d been meaning to get to, in addition to making a few contacts for possible future bookings. I cleaned my living area and sorted laundry to be done soon. That’s not a lot, but I did make small steps. Oh, and someone paid me back $100 they’d owed me. Victory!
No comments:
Post a Comment