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DPD Emeritus – Jimmy Buffett
The love light is turned way down low at the HQ today. Hell, I don’t care how disgusting my feet are…I’m wearing flip flops today.
Jimmy Buffett was the first and only concert I ever snuck into. It must have been the first week or two of freshman year when some pals from home showed up saying they knew of a way to sneak into Great Woods for the show. I hadn’t thought much about Jimmy Buffett up to that point but I was away from home and up for an adventure.
Sure enough, we just walked right around the entire venue, hiked up a hill and climbed a fence – and we were in. My toe clipped the top of the last fence and I fell into the stairs as the crowds were piling into the beginning of the show. I was nose to nose with the pavement when a hand slammed into the center of my back.
“Shit, I’m caught” I thought. Next thing I know that hand was picking me up and pushing me up the stairs jubilantly saying “You made it man!”. Solidarity in the pirate lifestyle. I was hooked.
A little bit of what makes me the person I am today died along with Jimmy. I can’t tell you how many Buffett shows I’ve been to since and it doesn’t really matter. If you’ve been to one you’ve been to a thousand. And those thousand all kind of rhyme in the way nostalgia for times go by do.
As time goes by and life happens there were a core group of people that I saw only at Buffett shows. I suspect most parrottheads have a similar story. Once the news started to spread I heard from people I hadn’t heard from in years. It felt good & bad at the time. Mostly good I guess.
My head hurts, my feet stink and I don’t love Jesus (or much else) right now
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Neil’s Elegy
I need animals around. We communicate beyond the verbal. Body language, facial expression, touch. The communication is more efficient and meaningful. Less bullshit.
I see you in my periphery everywhere I go in the house. Sitting on the stairs. Running to your food. Sitting on the toilet attacking some figure 8’s. I don’t know how long it’ll take for me to normalize that. Sometimes when I think about your departure the pain makes me cry. It happens a couple of times a day at least. Can you believe that? I didn’t think you’d live forever but I wasn’t ready. I can’t put my finger on it but I don’t like being in the house without you. Everyday things and places seem strange and unfamiliar. It’s an odd feeling. Your presence brought an energy (or vibe) to my environment that I came to rely on and love. You left me with Larry. That doofus.
I try not to think about you now because it makes me feel so awful but I can’t help it obviously. Everytime I walk up the stairs and look at that spot in the hallway I can’t help it. Your image lying there is indelible in my mind. You know the image I’m talking about. I know I felt you purr one last time when I laid my hand on your body. I love and hate that.
More than anything this house feels lonely without you. Which is weird right? There’s so much shit going on here. I can’t quite put my finger on it but we’ll call it loneliness for now. Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night you’re not there to do figure 8’s. When I can’t sleep you’re not there to be the cooler. Coming home the other day I looked at the top of the stairs where you’d be running to as we came through the gate.
I hate the way we ended. That friggin rash and not having you in the bed at night. I lived for that and I know you did too. I hate that that was taken away from you and I wonder if it had something to do with how it ended. I don’t trust that goddam balloon I bought either.
At least for now I wanted to keep all your stuff around. But I couldn’t handle hearing your feeder go off 3 times a day. I went to unplug it but Kerry beat me to it. We’ve started to pile some of your things at the bottom of the basement stairs. One of your beds, the feeder and few other things. Who knows how long it’ll stay there. I hate seeing it but I also love the reminder.
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A NEW DEAR NORMAN, WHAT A DAY!
Dear Norm,
I’m important. I run the recreational volleyball league for my office. According to the league’s power index I am currently ranked 2nd overall in bumping, setting and spiking with a #1 overall ranking in rotating (following side-outs).
Last week I organized a pick up scrimmage for the league’s participants to dust off the winter cobwebs and prepare for the grueling season ahead. I’m not sure if we woke them up by playing or if they were just out looking for trouble but a large swarm of gnats began swarming around the court as we played. It’s not clear if they came from inside the sand or just the general area around the court.
Many players were getting bit, including myself, which turned out to be a real nuisance to all players especially during gameplay. Once the official league games start I’m concerned that if these gnats can’t be controlled or contained they will really start to hurt my statistical performance with all of the biting and general nuisancing. I’m really hoping to impress Mary from Sales this season and if my power rankings start dropping I’m not sure she’ll find me as attractive. Do you think I should call in a gnat specialist to check the area to see if it can be sprayed with a gnat repellant??
Beleaguered near Boston
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Dear Beleaguered,
I know the rigors of trying to impress the fairer sex with sport. During last year’s Toothbrushing Championships I was so nervous trying to win the heart of my tournament crush that I missed a bicuspid and didn’t even earn a spot on the podium.
For your issue I will provide a couple of possible solutions and maybe you could bring them to Mary and get her opinion? This way not only are you resolving the gnat problem but also showing her that you value her opinion – and want her partnership – in resolving matters that are as complicated as this.
Here are a couple of things you might want to try: 1) relocate the court. Pick up the nets and sand and move them to a nearby area controlled by a less hostile swarm. 2) Screw it! Drop volleyball and join the local marionette theatre. 3) Turn off the music. I know you like it and it is an inspiring song, especially for sport but a recent study out of Harvard’s School of Entomology confirms that gnats are drawn to Chumbawumba. If you keep playing “Tubthumping” you’re going to keep having gnats. Subsequently, a study of gnats related to Techno was conducted by Andover EDMologist Justin Stoltz who said, “The colors melt me like chocolate. I have extra glow sticks if you need them. We’re good friends, right? We should totally start doing stuff together.” 4) Grow a pair. You have a volleyball court at your work and are complaining about bugs being outside. I think Mary’s already made her decision.
Fuck off,
Norm.
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SEXY MEMOIRS CHAPTER 3: IF YOU WANT TO FUCK A PEACH, ASK FOR AN APPLE
While entering my local market I grabbed my hand basket and started walking up & down the aisles of life. As I came across the produce section she catches my eye, the woman stacking the peaches. She must have been new. I hadn’t seen her before and she was doing it all wrong. But her form was great. I approach her with a simple question – “Can you show me where you keep the apples?”. Rescuing her from that mundane task and allowing me to strike up a conversation on the walk – and that is all we would need. I had her flushing as much as she had me lusting.
I place my overflowing basket where we stand and follow her outside. I ripped off her smock and ravished her in the cool summer night as if she was being punished for her peach pyramid building skills. As quickly as it began, it ended. Nothing left to do but check out here.
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A NEW DEAR NORMAN – THINGS WE SHOULD KNOW!
First time, long time. I’ve got a serious issue. I like to sleep on my side. I need to actually. Due to some phlegmy issues I picked up over the past decade. My partner and I live together and, hence, sleep together. And she loves to spoon. I mean she LOVES to spoon. So, the nice guy I am…I let it happen.
Here’s the rub – I scoot over, throw my arm over the woman then my other arm is left squished under my frame. I’ve tried other things but just end up at the same place – nowhere to go.
While she’s all nestled in the cozy love cave of my making I’ve got about 5 minutes until my entire side goes all numb with shooting pain. Its brutal. I spend half my nights staring at the ceiling waiting for the pain to go away. I’ve tried everything, what’s a guy to do?
Pins and Needles in Poughkeepsie
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Pins,
First of all, thanks for the support…always great to hear from a fan.
Your current problem is an eternal one that has vexed many a great mind. Pythagoras for one. Pythagoras, the father of geometrical study, wizard of symmetry and one of the meanest bookies this side of the Aegean. Ancient texts have revealed he suffered long nights with little sleep due to the ‘clingyness’ of his mate. And this was before tempurpedic technology, oy!
Conservative estimates gauge that between 561 B.C and 540 B.C. Pythy slept less than 2 hours a night. In his restlessness Pythy roamed the early morning streets of Samos. Which is where he stumbled across the early morning rhythmic tones of a blacksmith’s shop. The beautifully harmonious clasping of the hammers was the aphrodisiac that inspired him to discover that musical notes could be transcribed to mathematical equations. Fast forward about 2000 years and you’ve got Miles Davis…thank YOU very much Pythy (and his selfish lover).
A contemporary of Pythagoras – Keith Richards – also faced a similar issue. In his 2011 biography he said that he only slept for about 2 nights a week. Which meant that he was conscious for 3 lifetimes over the course of that span. And look what he accomplished!
So, Pins, don’t see your current lack of sleeping space as a detriment. Look at it as an opportunity to achieve new things.
Eternally searching,
Norm.
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SEXY MEMOIRS: CHAPTER 1 STEPPING INTO WETNESS
As the sun arose, so did I. Immediately the images of the night before blurring through my mind while I try to get the taste of gin and sweat off my tongue, but there’s one thing that’s missing…her. I know we had the plans to but I’m pretty sure we didn’t. Livid with myself that I let the opportunity squander I go thru the morning wondering if I’ll ever get another chance.
Fast forward to lunch I receive a message. It reads “no work for me today, what time u get out?”
Eagerly I reply with my end shift time. No reply, but none is needed, she got what she was looking for. The remainder of my day consists of completing my tasks in a mediocre manner while hiding my spontaneously arousal of anticipation. Finally the day is done and as I pull into the driveway her car is there. I open the front door, which was locked, and step right into it…the wetness.
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Obit: T.W.’s Shade Career
You had a good run Tommy. You’ll always be in our hearts. But you know as well as we do this day was a long time coming. Plus, you get to go out with the Queen. Two divas being stupid B’s into the sunset. Who knows maybe she’ll let you kiss her at the celestial all-you-can-eat buffet in the sky? We’re pulling for you.
From time to time you provided a strange energy that periodically morphed into inspiration. We love that! You were relentless in the procrastination you brought to the table. We loved that less!
You followed your own manifest destiny that resulted in The Shade taking a backseat in your thoughts. We understand. If you love something you have to let it go and we’re committed to you following your heart.
Be well Tommy. It’s not ‘good-bye’ per se….just ‘to be continued’. Did you lose your seat on The Board? Obviously – we talked about this in Topeka. But we never took you that seriously anyways.
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SEXY MEMOIRS CHAPTER 2: A ROCK AND A HARD…PLACE
It had been a couple of moon phases since I had last parted the velvet sea with my member so it was inevitable that tonight was the night. The only thing that could thwart this was the karaoke. Granted it was a mere 2 weeks since the last performance but tonight’s was going to be huge. The highly impressionable Stu Gatz was in town and looking to have a good time, naturally I’m the first on his call list throwing a wrinkle into my proverbial hard on. Situations like this plague the mind and poison either situation you choose with a case of the what if’s. But it’s for that reason I usually think with my penis…it’s the unselfish thing to do.
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DEAR NORMAN – JUNK DRAWERS & TIME GONE PAST
Dear Norman,
I recently discovered that I had a junk drawer. I recall trying to find the glue sticks for a crafting project I had found on Pinterest. The project required adhesive of any kind and I had recently purchased a 3-pack of sticks for some holiday glitter fun. I checked in all of the usual places: the basket on the coffee table, the fabric bin where the scissors usually end up, and then it hit me. Check the drawer by the cat food! I scurried over and rifled through. The rifling went on for longer than it should take to rifle and that’s when I knew. I had a junk drawer! Forgotten screws, rubber bands, do-dads and what-cha-ma-callits galore. All of life’s sticky situation fixer-uppers were left here in this drawer in the breezeway for myself to breeze on past without a thought. Those glue sticks got me thinking. How do junk drawers come to be so full of stuff? Does this mean I am a small-scale hoarder or just a clever crafter who knows she’ll need a stick of glue someday? Help!
Sticky from Mississippi
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Dear Sticky,
You touch on 2 subjects near and dear to yours truly:
1. Daily manifestations of tedium in the realm of senses
2. Cats
I’ll take the latter first.
Cats have a wistful elegance about them that can placate the hottest temper. My first year in Manhattan, 1947, my 70 sq. ft apartment on West 80th was stifling and devoid of inspiration in that July of record heat. That is, until I found Bubbles at the ASCPA in Tribeca. Bubbles was a short hair Chartreux with zest of which Helen of Troy would kill for. Her strut and manner of planned ignoring tickled me like the plume of Zoroaster’s peacock.
In a way we’re all junk draws slowly accumulating ghosts & tedium. That rubber ball you found under the stove. Or the long, thin screw you found when you moved the armoire. Surely you have acquaintances that could be described similarly?
The thought of one day needing these things and not having them would drive us mad. To throw them away would be sacrilege. So we keep them, store them and press on hoping for that one day where justification manifests itself.
How do junk drawers come to be so full of stuff? you ask. Because we live Sticky and are terrified to go without that which we once had in our grasp. Much of the same can be said of our social circles. And as we navigate unfocused groupings we pick up these ‘do-dads and what-cha-ma-callits’ as reminders of what once was, could have been or might be.
Sweating,
Norm.
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Feeling ecclesiastical while searching for that all you can eat buffet in the sky.
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