Saturday, May 03, 2008


Muscle memory.
Divine intervention.

And then there's the "alcohol curve..."

Sometimes playing billiards is incredibly satisfying, with the right friends, in lieu of what you all know you should individually be doing.

Tonight, the piped-in music went radically from Rod Stewart to The Butthole Surfers, just because we stayed too long and went over the sun-going-down-hump.

I've been talking about "Building A Cult" for years now.

Still working on it. And my billiards and bowling skills...

It's what you do when you do what you do. Photography too, when you don't want to.

When I was five years old, my Kindergarten teacher called my Mother with concern about me. Apparently when the question of "What do you want to be when you grow up?" came around I said "A Hippie or a Garbageman." It was 1969, so think about the Hippie thing. And I loved THE Garbageman - he came by every day and I talked to him...he was my buddy.

Later on, probably at age 15 or 16, I told my Mother that I wanted to be a Cult Leader.

She was appalled.

But, I still do.

Sorry, Mom...

Sorry, Frank Black...


Tanya said...

Move over Jim Jones!
As long as your cult included good food and good music and some awesome imagery and a gaggle of puppies, I'm in.

Anonymous said...

I love Frank Black