I've
been so busy lately, what with #NaNoWriMo and once again, doctors,
that it seems ages since I've written a new post for #ROW80. Oh, I've
had an inspiration here or there, but writing prompts have been
overlooked. Until tonight, and I cannot for the life of my understand
why I haven't written about this before. Before I get into all that,
I want to talk about my “goals.” I've written 18,811 words for
#NaNoWriMo as of Saturday, November 9. So, yay about that. My outline
and 3 events and 30 whatsis have been a tremendous help. Anyway, back
to Sa-tur-day nights on the Avenue of Nebraska!
It's sort of like this, only without the slide, order and apparent polite behavior seen here. Other than that, Cross of Mercy, neon lights, huddled confusion. Yeah, it looks like one of Nebraska Avenue's more celebrated Saturday evenings.
Maybe,
it's because in a way, it's always Saturday night on Nebraska Avenue,
even on Sunday morning. Jimmy Buffet's line about “it's a thin line
between Saturday night and Sunday morning” doesn't apply here.
There are no lines. Nope, no sir, no sirree bob, no how and no way.
As
my good, good pal Andi-Roo, over at The World 4 Realz says about Twitter, mostly I think, but
mentions Facebook, so none of those babies get their widdle feewings
hurt, in one of my favorite posts, Cotton Swab Causes Emergency Room Visit and the Fourth of July, “We
turned to Twitter and Facebook, that
ever-present crowd of parties and advice.”
With Nebraska Avenue and “ever-present” and “parties”
(loosely defined – a party of one or two is quite common behind the dumpsters and bushes, here) and “advice” – questionable, as I had a
roommate in the homeless shelter, who upon discovering that I had not
one, but two computers stashed under my bunk, wanted to know why I wasn't on
the internet.
The "Make-Believe" help desk. I think I worked for this dolt at IBM. I jumped ship and went to Verizon, just before the mutiny.
I
explained that I had no external antenna, so that I could “steal”
someone else's internet (a popular pastime around here, and not just
bandwidth.) Said roommate told me she was a computer “expert” and
I could just download the wifi device. I kept a straight face and ran
to tell my friends who had more than 2 working brain cells about my latest conversation with the newest representative from the Planet Mongo. My good
friend Matt, another homie from Choate and Boston University (how the
hell do people with such stunning backgrounds become homeless?) said
to me, “Great, let's download dinner and save time!” So, the term
“expert” around here is used with much abandon and means whatever
the hell the “expert” wants it to mean.
. . . Is A Glorious Waste of Time
It's
like those idiots who play video games (Runescape)
for 5 minutes, decide they now know everything there is to know about
the game (Runescape)
and can level up to 99 in 15 minutes. They then proceed to write the
most meaningless guide to _________ (fish to 99, cook to 99, mine to
99, etc. It's like a job, only with better benefits, and lots more
color, too.) Here, from mithos23132, is his guide, called, fittingly, "How to Write Very Bad Guides," from the Tip.it forums and it is hilarious. He so hits the nail on the head.
The irony here is, as I was hunting up this guide, I ran across one of the the last posters, who doesn't
get it. He's just furious about this horrible guide.
Lulz. "Way to miss the point." Pwn3d
So,
what does this have to do with Saturday night? Why, not a damned
thing! It just amused me and I had started out with all the fun we have
here on Nebraska Avenue, 33605, 33602, 33604 and I'm always kind of random like that and digress anyway. Andi's ever-present
party is a happening thing, but on Saturday nights, it takes on that
extra-special meaning. If the Saturday also happens to fall on the
day after SSI checks are distributed, well, good times, good times!
It's a combination party-riot-search-and-rescue kinda night.
It's about this disco-y and bright, with the neighbors and their disco ball in the living room. Is this a new thing? Am I missing out here?
Throw
in some apocalyptic meltdown music, kind of a Bulgarian hip-hop
rap-off, a little hostage situation bull-horn shouting and drive by
broken woofers. Probably hooked up to 18 12-volt batteries. Why the
hell not 20 or 22 batteries? Can't they hear ya already in Moscow? I
happened to look outside one night, and saw in the upstairs apartment
to my right, a disco inferno happening complete with disco ball and
fire, it looks like inside the apartment. Dude in doorway has tin foil wrapped up in his hair like yo' momma used to
do spit curls. He's a-boppin' to the sound and movin' to the beat.
Tha's just a lightnin' waitin' to happen! Won't have to pay no
electric this month. And it's just nothin' but a thang, chicken wang. On the Avenue, Nebraska Avenue, 33602, 33605, 33604.
This was supposed to be my Sunday Check in, but I figured I'd try to do a little soft-shoe and put some seltzer down my pants for y'all! Happy Nano-ing and #ROW80ing!
2 comments:
Boy, Mary, your neighborhood is a lot more interesting than mine!
I have to admit, the student neighborhoods around here do approach your description. It makes me sound like the old guy griping about kids on his lawn to ask if these kids want to be able to hear anything when they hit their 50's.
I personally turn up classical music a lot louder than anything else--it has the added benefit of annoying the cars around you blasting bass notes. :)
Ha ha, Elizabeth, What's really funny about this is I toured for years with The Moody Blues, Styx, Queensryche, Alan Parsons Project and have played symphonic music in huge symphony orchestras. Music can't be loud enough for me. So, I'm pretty unfazed by all of it. I've also been around jet engines and Nascar Start-Finish lines, and thought that was amazing. But it probably explains some of the neural damage. Was it worth it? Hell yah! Thanks for stopping by! <3
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