About me
subject appears to be a white male, early 50's, pathologically tall/skinny. brain patterns show evidence of a life in alcohol - first swimming in it then running from it. fingers show wear from years of guitar playing. heart presents slow repair, through writing, from being broken by rock and roll.
Recent comments
Links
all things afghan whigs
burning light
FREE TIM BYRNES!!!!(Music, that is!)
millions more movement
moon maan
rock and roll hall of fame
tim's music
Archives
today
February 2009
January 2009
October 2008
September 2008
August 2008
July 2008
June 2008
May 2008
April 2008
March 2008
December 2007
October 2007
August 2007
July 2007
June 2007
May 2007
April 2007
March 2007
January 2007
December 2006
November 2006
October 2006
September 2006
August 2006
July 2006
June 2006
May 2006
April 2006
March 2006
February 2006
January 2006
December 2005
November 2005
October 2005
September 2005
August 2005
July 2005
June 2005
May 2005
April 2005
March 2005
February 2005
January 2005
June 2004
April 2004
March 2004
Counter
visited *loading* times
Sorry It Took a While: We Were Just Tuning.
I am, alas, one of those old men afflicted w/a trick back. I have no idea how it happened (although I tell all and sundry it's an old football injury: 'Yeah. Fell off a bar stool watchin' a jet game'. What can I say? I'm a card. Deal w/it.) but every so often I turn my skinny frame like the wrong way and the pain comes down like a freeway and I wind up walking like Groucho Marx for weeks at a time and, basically, that's what happened 3 weeks ago and that's why I ain't been here.
I am not dead. And ain't nobody won nutthin'!
Has been a busy 3 weeks work wise and home wise and even music wise. Have finally settled into a consecutive 4 day work week and will be starting to help a friend cut down some trees at his sister-in-law's on my days off. Apparently I can make enough money in a week or so to pay for that sexy digital 8 track I've had my eye on. The living situation just keeps getting weirder and weirder; drunk all the time mom leaves her 2 kids (ages 5 and 7 and you know I'm guessing) w/the alleged crackheads next door who party all night and blast bad disco on the stereo.
And before anyone gets too outraged, don't worry I've already called CPS.
Because that's what a responsible person does and, let me tell ya, these people were a lot more fun when they were just annoying alcoholic sociopaths. Before these kids got involved the situation was manageable, even fun in that it gave me something relatively valid to bitch about, as opposed to another antiFloyd screed, and I loved the irony of being the one who called the cops for once. But the other night, 'bout a week ago. It's 2 in the morning. I don't get home from work till 11:30 pm, have to walk the dogs, feed the cats, unwind, watch Charlie Rose so I'm not going to sleep until 2am, right? I no sooner get under the covers when the headlights from their incoming van (bars just closed, remember? This is a Tuesday night, btw) flood my bedroom, followed by the noise of 5 drunks in their early 2o's falling out of the van and into the apartment next door, which shares a wall with, you guessed it, my bedroom.
BOOOM BOOOM BOOOOOM goes the most insipid bassdrum track I've ever heard. Through the wall and through my skull for I'm not kidding like the 4th night running (and why is it people who insist on making me listen to their music never play anything I like?) so I get up, dress accordingly and march out like a skinny policeman and knock on their door. I actually have to knock 4 times before the occupants hear me. Anyway, post 4th knock, the door flies open and here's this guy (my next door female neighbor always has a guy) I've never seen, striking a drunken bare knuckles fighting stance. He somehow knows my name and proceeds to use it 15 times in one sentence, asking if it's the music that's too loud or them. I lookes past this and him to see 3 other glassy eyed males and my neighbor, she who shall remain nameless, looking at me like I'm the enemy 'cause I guess in this case I am. There on the couch sat these two children taking it all in and processing it who knows how but does anyone here think it could remotely be good?
So I told the drunk guy to'... just do it' after the 13th apology and promise to be quiet. I've learned from my own fieldwork that you can't reason w/a drunk. So idiot me wrestled w/it for a few days, each night I heard those kids yelling in the parking lot. Now they weren't getting beat y'all, they were yelling out of sheer abandon. Or abandonment?
I don't know why I decided it was my call to make. Probably because everybody else in the complex was commenting on it was a shame the way those kids etc and the ever popular 'something's gotta be done' which for once I not only agreed with but acted upon. Well, not to blame America first, but I made that first call a week and a half ago and nobody's been out to check on those kids yet In the meantime our local police have been turning around in our driveway a lot more lately (Thanks, Jim!) and 2 other neighbors have taken up the task of calling the cops when the party goes out of bounds and stand there outraged when the cops show up, so at least now I'm getting a little sleep. Talk to y'all soon, I gotta make a couple of phone calls.
Viva la France!
tim
Posted by: timbyrnes at 17:32 |
link | comments (3)
