small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table: wise old possum

Wednesday, July 20

wise old possum

you must seek out greg, he knows where the taint lies

Just a few short musings before my day kicks in and I go looking for a bell tower to climb. On the way home on the bus yesterday I noticed a possum on the side of the road. I’m looking at it thinking, “oh look, a dead possum on the side of the road”. It was kind’a propped up against this construction wall that faced a really busy street.

All of a sudden it snapped it’s eyes open and I couldn’t help but notice that it had this really freaked out look on it’s face. (If you could imagine a possum having a freaked out look) It actually looked like it was hyperventilating and shit and it’s little black beady possum eyes were just darting every which way. Now I’m thinking yeah if I was a fuckin possum sitting against a wall on a busy street I’d be freaking out too. Hell, it’s not like possums are known for their acute traffic sense and shit.

But as the bus turned the corner one of those giant street sweepers came into view. I’m looking at the street sweeper and picturing the path it followed, then I looked back to where the possum laid freaking out against the construction wall. Damn that muthafucker had to pass right over the fuckin possum, no wonder that muthafucker looks all freaked out and shit.

I’m always amazed at what people talk to me about. It’s a given that if you’re a lonely drunk in a bar, you have to come over and tell me your fuckin life story. But lately and I would love to see how I look to other people, but folks have been rolling up on me in the oddest places to ask me questions, anything from government issues to sexual advice to crop circles.

And I’m not sure how I feel about that, because these people are serious as a muthafucker when they ask me shit. Like my answer will set them free and light the way to karmic salvation. Fuck, when I look at myself in the mirror I don’t want to ask me a fuckin thing. Have I reached that point and stature where I’ve turned into the elder wise man? Are there muthafucker’s walking the earth seeking the answers to life that are being told to travel to Kansas City and seek out the fat black cat in Midtown?

It’s like one night in the Hurricane this hot young chick ran up on me and I swear to god this is what came out of her mouth. “Are you the one called Death? I heard you’re wise and can help me”. And then there’s the cat that wanted me to tell him how to become a man. Now that one was easy, I told him to go out and rent every movie he could find featuring John Wayne and Samuel Jackson and do what they do. But I’m telling you, do I really need that kind of pressure? Do I want to be the wizened one that people seek out?

"and the monkey flipped the switch"


Blogger Ole Blue The Heretic said...

It never fails when I am in a bar, someone always wants to tell me of their problems. But it is not just in a bar, it is everywhere. I can be lying on the road having been hit by a car and I am telling you the fucking medic will start telling about all the problems they have in life.

Can't a guy just get a drink without having to be a shrink?

11:38 AM  
Blogger Creature in Boston said...

Have you read that book...Illusions: The adventures of a Reluctant Massiah? Check it out...

Have a great day Greg

12:10 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

yea u do. just think of all the positives of being "the great black death". besides, your mother would then have something to tell all the old ppl.
--so suggests the sister

12:57 PM  
Blogger Grampapinhead said...

Very Nice
this is GrampaPinheads 'quote of the week' for Thur.

I told you, man, you are getting there.
Wise Old Possum, indeed.
Might be a clue why you spent last weekend recharging your batteries.

4:14 PM  
Anonymous RD said...

Hey Greg, ol buddy, I was born a poor white boy in small town Iowa....

6:42 PM  

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