Thursday, April 18, 2013

 For the first time in years, I have had no answer at all from my friend the local editor-in-chief of the local newspaper.
 
Maybe she thinks I have finally fallen out of my tree.
 
This is what I sent her: 
 
 
Hi Debora Kelly, Ma'am.
 
 
Just doodling a bit here...But it could be edited into a guest column. But watch out.  :)
 
, March 09, 2013

My computer is wonky. I have become schizoid...And so Am I :)

My old computer is wonky.
 
I am wonky.
 
He/she/it/ is wonky.
 
My semi-girlfiend wants to bandy words with me, even if she can't find the words to bandy.
Ain't been the same since that hospital addiction to Vicodin, and I'm sure she hasn't shaken it yet. Generic heroin?
 
"When dat horse kick, you you do the hucklebuck."
 
(From old Chubby Checker):
 
Wiggle like a stick wobble like a duck
That's what you do when you do the Hucklebuck.
 
 
Now she just wanders from room to room, looking for wine.
 
None of us have any money. Addictive relationship. Could have been defined as a dope ring, but lately, we're just a couple of dopes.
 
Joe Cocker on the FM station:
 
"You can leave your hat on
You can leave your hat on
You can leave you hat on."
 
Friend come to visit, "Ivan, you've become quite a whoremaster since I saw you last."
 
Little does he know that I haven't had any action since last year.
It's all pose. Miss Viv and I are well over sixty, and wonky, like our computer. He wants to leave his hat on too.
.
"Wiggle like a stick wobble like a duck
That's what you do when you do the Hucklebuck."
 
I am in front of the mirror, doing the hucklebuck (I been in hospital too...cross addicted).
 
Miss Viv is trying to feed her 18--year-old cat. Nothing doing. Cat can't eat without being fooled with a coating of cat treat.
We agree it's time for last rites, administered by "Elvis Priestly", who when not conducting service, will give you a pretty good Elvis imitation.
Father Priestley comes to bless the cat.
The cat seems to have recovered today,
but we are still doing the hucklebuck. Durn cross addiction.
 
There was a time when I was married, with young children, I would wander around the cottage dazed. This was no way to live, with responsibilities and children.
Had to take a job. Try to hide the fact that daddy is a freak, a writer.
People are saying "See that farmhouse, with the smoke rising from the brick chimney? Looks peaceful, idyllic there.
But a madman lives inside."
 
So I took a writing job.
Wrote about my dog, Ulysses, "When My Ulysses comes home, woof-woof, wag-wag." Gonna shoot the sonafabich.
 
This gives me an Ontario Weekly Newspaper Guild award and I get my fifteen minutes.
 It was fun being famous, at least in York Region, here in Central Ontario.
 
But fifteen minutes soon over, wife gets disgusted, "Out, damn spot. Yes, you!"
 
Loose dog in the boonies. More like the old movie, Fritz the Cat.
 Jesus, you meet characters who make you say, "You do weird shit, man."
 
You end up with Miz Viv.
Wandering from room to room, wonky, like your old computer,doing the hucklebuck.
 
A teacher whom I once deeme a bad teacher, told me once, "All talent and no judgment."
 
I can't trade on my craziness forever."
 
We're all getting long in the tooth, and what was once cute, has become pathetic.
 
Miz Viv seems to have straightened out her medication.
 
I gotta get myself straightened out.
 
After breakfast every day
She throws the want ads right my way
And never fails to say
Get a job

Sha na na na - sha na na na na
But my computer is busted. I am busted.
 
Good time Charlie's got the blues.
 
 
(I have been told that all my novels are on three levels. 1). A man's job dissatisfaction.
                                                                               2). His madness.
                                                                               3). A real source of evil.
 
,,,Could I have added the author's drinking)?
 
 
 
 

4 comments:

Charles Gramlich said...

drinking is as drinking does. Or maybe not. had a few myself yesterday, but stopped after about a six pack. Better for me.

ivan@creativewriting.ca said...

Hi Charles.

I found a beer, while in Denmark, that's about 18 per cent alcohol; malt liquor, I suppose.

One drink and I'm good for the day! :)

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