The Primitive Way (continued)
No one wants you to suffer any worse than you have to. The ditty is painful. That's because Rollie is holding up his end till my check clears. Assholes are always slashing their own achillles tendon and paying with a bad check. I'm desperate. Not dishonest. Weak spine.
Soon as Rollie gets his paycheck, I'll be sounding a mite better on this disposable musical instrument. You have to be patient with people learning how to play the violin. It could drive you to scratching glass with your finger nails. A really bad fiddler is a living hell. I'm not sure why I decided I wanted to play the violin. Had it never been invented, it would have been some other weakening force of desire and pretense. The last time Rollie came into the picture, I was hoping to get good at riding skateboard. Before that, I was hoping to pass third grade, but I have dyslexia. In that paradigm, you might consider Satan is an eye doctor. I think the character problems people wrestle with are not of this urban rehab zone.
I was reading Chekov/Saul Bellow shit, not those authors, but comparable literature, you've read their crap at school, don't fight, but I think it's why I've had a change in my evening habits. For some reason I can't say 'habit' without thinking 'bowel,' it's the way some people grow up, or else there's a gene for asshole, but I've taken up the violin. Oh, it's not a Stradavarius, like some junky just happened to find one at the thrift store, I got this accessory off the internet, forty two dollars, color of a shaving cut. Plugs into the Fender Champ. Real loud.
I was practicing, like a habit, in front of the television, when I got the visit. It's Eastern European obsessive compulsive disorder, like a nationally famous breed of prickly pear, first some asshole reads some garbage in a magazine, book, might watch some bullshit movie, and soon the poor prick emulates some character or situation. Sometimes this shit is pre-ordained. Sometimes it's something the SOB does. Either way, they ride their scooter to the crossroads.
First I read this ethnic fairy tale about a fiddler. Then I bought an electric violin, off ebay, with accessories. Then it became habit to play the fucker. Never mind for now how well. That's still in the fumes. Rollie Satan made one of his comical appearances, he loves period costumes, always out of time, but resurgent, the way some garments come back in style after all the assholes who first went in for the look died, and now it's some miserable excuse for a new age. He's back to wearing a pompadour. So fucking unoriginal.
"Your playing could improve a lot, there, little Brucie," Rollie was saying. "I see a world of ass-fucked potential."
I was practicing, like a habit, in front of the television, when I got the visit. It's Eastern European obsessive compulsive disorder, like a nationally famous breed of prickly pear, first some asshole reads some garbage in a magazine, book, might watch some bullshit movie, and soon the poor prick emulates some character or situation. Sometimes this shit is pre-ordained. Sometimes it's something the SOB does. Either way, they ride their scooter to the crossroads.
First I read this ethnic fairy tale about a fiddler. Then I bought an electric violin, off ebay, with accessories. Then it became habit to play the fucker. Never mind for now how well. That's still in the fumes. Rollie Satan made one of his comical appearances, he loves period costumes, always out of time, but resurgent, the way some garments come back in style after all the assholes who first went in for the look died, and now it's some miserable excuse for a new age. He's back to wearing a pompadour. So fucking unoriginal.
"Your playing could improve a lot, there, little Brucie," Rollie was saying. "I see a world of ass-fucked potential."
2.
Soon as Rollie gets his paycheck, I'll be sounding a mite better on this disposable musical instrument. You have to be patient with people learning how to play the violin. It could drive you to scratching glass with your finger nails. A really bad fiddler is a living hell. I'm not sure why I decided I wanted to play the violin. Had it never been invented, it would have been some other weakening force of desire and pretense. The last time Rollie came into the picture, I was hoping to get good at riding skateboard. Before that, I was hoping to pass third grade, but I have dyslexia. In that paradigm, you might consider Satan is an eye doctor. I think the character problems people wrestle with are not of this urban rehab zone.
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