The Wombury's brain is in overdrive from all the footage he's watched of himself back in September out on the road, with Bob. He's remembering how he and Bob bickered over everything for 5 straight weeks. At least in the Wombury's mind he was in the middle of a vicious battle. Bob seemed to be just having a good ol' time.
For five days the Wombury has been taking notes on each entered snippet of footage. So far, he's up to Day 2 of the journey, and he's worried he'll give up this project the way he gave Stand-up Comedy and Showering everyday and flossing and lifting weights and swimming and cooking his own meals and telling his girlfriend she was pretty.
And you know, dear reader, it's getting late, and, well, dammit to Fred, life is so complicated in its infinite kaleidoscopic permutations that it bowls the Wombury over. Today, for instance he found out "Ernie" , the live-in boyfriend of Lana"-the Wombury's landlord-, is 30. 30! That means Ernie and the Wombury are the same age, which is totally not what the Wombury had in mind, but Ernie and the Wombury were chatting tonight about work and the Bronx. Ernie is from the Bronx. Grew up in Castle Hill. The Wombury asked Ernie if he remembered the days of the 70s when the Bronx is Burning was going on and all that inner city Jazz. This seemed reasonable to ask since Ernie mentioned knowing the exact street corner where Hip Hop started back in the 70's. But Ernie said he didn't remember 70s much on account of his being born in 1977. The same muthatrucking year as the Wombury!
you're my age? We're peers? We were in Junior high in 1991 and 1992? It makes the Wombury ponder what it felt like to be in 8th grade in Castle Hill, watching TV. Did Ernie watch A Different World and relate to Dwayne Wayne? and Cheers? Did he find Cliff Clavin comical? The world of a Boston tavern was barely less accessible to Ernie than it was to me. Did he watch Designing Women and fantasize about sniffing Delta Burke's pantyhose? and Saved by the Bell? Did he view Screech's obsession to Lisa Voorhies and think, "it's a good day for race relations,"? Did he think Larry Bird was a pasty white twat? Did he hate white people? Did the Wombury hate white people? Does the Wombury hate white people? Are half-arabs white? Are emotions racial? They must be.
and now the age of Lana is completely mysterious to the Wombury and there's no decent civilized way of divining such information, but stop and consider Lana's son, "Jordy" is 14 or 15, so Lana can't be much older than 30, so there's like three 30 year olds in the house and one 14 year-old, but you couldn' t ask for a three more different 30 year-olds than Ernie, Lana, and the WOmbury.
and irony of all of this, the irony is that the Wombury chose this apartment because he wanted to live with people who weren't his own age, wanted to live with something far removed from his situation, something stable like a family with hopes of emotional osmosis, and the thing is, Lana and Ernie are 30 but they're not the same age.
And now for a picture of a bank robber from San Marcos,
(I wanted to caress the inside of your wrist but I forget my radio)
Until then,
The Wombury
The Wombury
3 comments:
The obvious question - Does the wombury hate black people? - was not asked. Political Correctness got your tongue?
Ah, the traditional battle between appearance versus reality. Isn't this a theme of nearly all Shakespeare plays? What is interesting is that while you are attempting to seek out authentic experiences they continue to evade you. Judging by these blogs, you are neither Odysseus nor Picasso. Instead, you are allowing yourself to become a pawn in someone else's chess game for a project that has taken on a life of its own. The real story lies in us readers watching you inside these adventures and less in your ability to make sense of them on your own or to find greater meaning in the apparent oddness of your situation. As long as this is satisfying to you, carry on. When, though, it becomes too much, realize that you can get out from in front of the camera lens and get back behind it. The question is how long will you let your life be a chess game?
I recognize that voice; I would recognize that voice across a crowded room of banjoists. It's BrettFavre and the Merry Packers. So you return-or maybe you never left. It is sad, isn't it, this never ending spectacle, or chess game, as you call it. One question: any idea who's ches game it is? And when you say get back "behind the camera" do you merely mean, step off the stage?
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