I am listening to the Music & Lyrics soundtrack. It's the bomb diggity. It makes me wiggle my hips and feel so 80's. I heart that. I also dig talking to Fitzy boy. I called him in Philly. We shot the shit about the upcoming audition with Atlantic.
"Atlantic is a good record company."
"Just have fun."
"Yeah, who knows? I just want to make 30,000 a year with music. That's enough. I just want to get this shovel out of my hand. I don't mind doing concrete work, but I just want to know either way if I'm going to be doing it for good. I've been at this music thing for a while."
"You'll get an offer."
"I hope so."
"You remember us listening to your band outside the Disco House?"
"Oh, the one you were with before you lived in L.A.?"
"It was fucking good. I was expecting it to suck, but I was like, 'This is good.' "
"I was like, 'Is that you singing?' And you were like, 'Yup.' "
"Yeah, good times."
"You know this Winter it's 3 years since you hung out with all of us in L.A."
"Oh yeah? That's cool."
"Yeah, that is cool."
I heart Fitzy boy. He is full of love. We stop talking. I go to the E-Mart. I get myself some chicken nuggets, a coffee maker, and some bagels. Then I head home. The cabbie wants to chat it up.
"Where you from?" he asks in Korean.
"L.A." I say.
"Oh, L.A.! Los Angeles!"
"Yeah," I shrug.
I could say more. I don't want to though. I get a call from a hot girl.
"What are you up to?" I ask.
"You want me to make you dinner?"
"So what you want to do?"
"You get the cd I left for you?"
"Ah, you want to do music."
"Alright. I'll be home in 10 minutes. We can rehearse the song."
Now the rehearsal is over. I wrote this poem about her. I sent it to her on email.
maybe, you melt me cheeseburger maybe, you turn tricks as easy cheetos maybe, feet whip it legs on legos maybe, sex is heart pushing daisies
She thinks I'm crazy. I think I'm cute, lovely, beautiful, Cover Boy.
Now I'm listening to the Music & Lyrics soundtrack. I dig it.
What are you up to? Want to move with me to New York? Want to make some babies? Have sex at the Radisson? Fall in and out of love, while I tour around the country playing music? Want to get bored and watch America's New Top Model? Want to watch our parents die? Want to watch me die? Want to keep on living until you don't?
It isn't much of a pitch. I guess I'm not much of a salesman when it comes to love. I could be sweeter. Syrup, in fact. It just turns into truth in the end. I am what I am. You are what you are. If you want to have the world with me, then just fucking get on the train.
I heard someone say that about love once. I was in Itaewhon. I was drinking a tequila on the rocks. The waiter gave me a look when I ordered.
"He wants you," Jim said.
"All night," I said.
"Women are crazy."
We head over to a hostess bar. A girl comes over. She chats me up. I tell her she's hot. She blushes.
"I quit smoking yesterday," she says. "It was my Birthday."
"Oh, Happy Birthday."
A woman walks up with flower bouquets. I slap a ten spot down, and hand hot mamma the bouquet.
"For your birthday," I say.
"Thanks," she says.
"Want a cigarette?" I ask.
We talk about the movie, Sideways. I tell her I met Rex Pickett in Hollywood.
"He was cool," I say.
"I'd imagine he'd be real sensitive like the character."
"Yeah, I guess," I say. "He might have been sensitive, but he wasn't as cute as me."
She giggles. I get a call from Jim. He's at a bar down the street.
"You leaving?" she asks.
"Nah," I say. "I'm going to talk to you for 10 more minutes. I like you."
"You like Santana?"
"Yeah, he's got a nice guitar tone," I say.
She holds her phone to my ear and plays an MP3 of Carlos.
"Nice," I say.
"I like him."
I drink another tequila.
"How old are you?" she asks.
"30," I say. "76."
"Oh, you're a Dragon," she says, and waves her arms above her head. "I'm a sheep."
"Mmmm," I say. "When were you born?"
"That's perfect," I say and mull it over. "Yeah, I dig you. You got a lot of fun in you. You like to dance?"
"Yeah," she smiles.
I look over at the other cat with me. I look at my phone.
"Alright, that's it for me. I gotta go."
"I'll come talk to you again."
"Okay," she says. "Don't drink too much."
I lay down a 100 spot, and head to meet Jim. He's heavy in a Guiness. I pinch his belly.
"Let's go eat!"
We eat burgers at a gourmet French restaurant. Then we bail. It's late.
"You heading home?"
"Yeah," I say.
"Alright," he says. "I'll call you tomorrow."
I walk the streets of Itaehwon. There are a lot of American soldiers rolling in and of clubs. I can't get a cab. It's raining. I go into a convenient store. I get some money out of the ATM and a pack of smokes. I walk down the block. Someone calls my name. They've got a cab. I get in. I hear a song in my head. It's an original. I store it in a back file of the mind.
clean whistle rise the push back hunger feed don't you ever turn your back on the whistle clean push the rise cab oregano deaf back your turn ever you don't
I'm listening to Music & Lyrics. Hugh Grant is my favorite singer of all time. I would like to hang out with him and Nicholas Cage. I would like to go with them to prom. I would bring hot mamma as my date. I would get them to play Santana. Someone would tell me that I needed to sing. I would get up. I would walk to the back of the dance floor. I would do a couple pelvic thrusts and then shout about New York. I would pitch you into a ball or sunrise to turn your mind into mine and be done with it.
"So what do you say, babe? Run away with me?"
"You're cute," she smiles. "I'm going to bed."
She stands. She looks at me. I stand.
"Walk me to the door," she says.
I walk. I hold her for a minute. I kiss her neck. She kisses mine.
"You like me this much or this much," I say and hold up my fingers an inch and two inches apart.
She holds her hands on either side of her hips and walks down the hallway. It' good to be alive, I think. I could just sit here in the monsoon of Korea for an hour. I could make it for an hour. Then I'll go inside. I'll lie on the floor. I'll pretend I'm waving my arms over my head. I'll re-live the moment you turned me on. I'll write a song about it. I'll put it on a record and then go running. I'll let your hands talk for your eyes. I'll listen to this soundtrack, smoke cigarettes, and wait for the rain to stop.
Not too bad a year, in terms of health - especially if you were born in 1964. Dragons suffering from chronic illnesses can expect an unexpectedly swift recovery in their health. Youngsters should not indulge in too many wild and fun-seeking events.