my shoulder hurts. It’s my right shoulder, so it’s probably from using a mouse and playing guitar. It got a bit better after the Gulf Shores beach extravaganza, but because the beach was closed for most of the time, I didn’t get a good enough dose of the sea for it to do me a lot of good. Oh well, back to the ocean soon I suppose. It’s probably not so much the ocean as not using the computer or playing guitar for hours that made it feel better. Enough of my problems. I don’t have a lot really. I try and avoid situations that will be unpleasant in whatever way. You might say I live in a bubble, and that suits me. I did go out this morning to buy some bread. The place wasn’t crowded, and things weren’t expensive as they were a few weeks ago. Eggs were back to their normal price. It’s interesting how that happens. Last night I made some more Lau Lau, only this time I used lamb by mistake, instead of pork. How could I make such a mistake, you might ask? Well I defrosted what I thought was pork and I had to use it then didn’t I? It tasted better actually. I sometimes think that the people who ban pork from their diets did so because (as people have said) it tastes like human flesh. Some long ago revulsion of a cannibalistic past might be in play there.
Fucked if I know man. Fucked if I know anything. I’m just getting on with the business of being an obscure part of popular music history. On Sunday I was at the Home Depot and as I was checking out, the girl asked me if I had any discounts, military or first responder type stuff. I wanted to ask her if being in the Rock and Roll Army counted. Maybe I’ll try that next time for a laff. I’ve been somewhat disconnected from my original army for some time now. I called Randy Bulpin my long time guitar buddy a couple of weeks ago and spoke to his wife. She told me he was working, but he hasn’t called me back which is not normal. I hope he’s ok. Nobody talks to anyone anymore, it seems. Even social media is dead now. It’s becoming a virtual graveyard where people post who died all the time. With all this mass communication at our fingertips nobody can seem to have any real friends. It’s weird. Maybe it’s just me. Do I have any real friends? Maybe. I don’t know.
Andes plane crash: ‘I ate my friends to survive’
I’m just thinking out loud. That’s what this journal really is. Me thinking out loud. I think I’m hungry, but maybe I’m just thinking it. It’s very, very quiet here on a Wednesday morning. I can hear a car off in the distance, now it’s gone. Every Wednesday the city sweeps the eastern side of the streets, but today they haven’t showed up. It reminds me of an old Slaughtermen song which goes something like “When he will sweep the eastern skies, and gather all his jewels home” * or something like that, but I digress. Maybe regress, since it’s unlikely the Slaughtermen will ever perform again, but who knows? Stranger things have happened. It’s almost 11 am, so maybe the sweeper won’t show up at all today. I should start listening to some of the stuff I’ve been recording lately. I’d be able to listen without traffic noise for a sweet change. I don’t know, it’s like everyone has gone away somewhere. Did they leave for the summer? Have they gone to the Jersey shore? That’s probably where I should go and do some sea therapy. I’m going to look it up and see if it’s a real thing, or if it’s just bullshit that I’m imagining. I know they walk horses through the surf supposedly for that reason. I couldn’t find any definitive answers other than “the horses like it”. Hydrotherapy is something else. Heated water is used, so it’s not that either.
I don’t care, it works for me. Being tossed around by the ocean like you’re in a giant dishwasher feels good, to me anyway.
* That Day Is Almost Here