The above are my best pals in the the multiverse. Nurse Pickles, and the Honorable Rt. Reverend R.P.Martin. These wonderful souls have been my dearest friends for some centuries now so I guess we're stuck with each other. Ain't they cute?
I wouldn't still be here annoying you if it weren't for them. I thank them for the loving compassion, and patients they shared with me through these more than interesting years. To note all of the bizarre adventures, and occurrences we've experienced together would fill A 12 DVD boxed set.
(...not counting deleted scenes, and the directors cut.)
So at the end of another year in this now 'not so new' century I wish them, and the few of you that visit my little freehold of Sydneyland a Happy, Healthy, Prosperous, and less Irritating New Year!
(Nurse Pickles assists "Hello Kitty" in a Christmas dance for Peace or at least free tuition.)
There was a time not so long ago when I would wander the streets on Christmas Eve. Like the ghosts that haunted Scrooge I would drift through this longest of nights with a yearning heart.
I'd walk the neon canyons of this city looking for my miracle. Looking for my special blessing. I did this for years. You see I've always wanted to belong. I always wanted a family. One that really wanted me.
In my life I've joined tribes, movements, conspiracies hoping that one of them was where I should be. Many wrong doors were opened. Many trusts were misplaced, loves stillborn.
Like so many of the most important things we need I couldn't describe it. Not exactly, but I'd know it when I saw it!
A rough outline perhaps would be that passage in Dicken's "A Christmas Carol" where the Ghost of Christmas Past shows Scrooge the shadows of his youth. The vision of the Christmas party at "Fezziwigs".
Dear old silly, thoughtful kindly Mr. Fezziwig that a very young Scrooge was apprenticed to. Remember how it was. Happy people joyful in each other's company. Gay laughter, gitty frolicks. Then there was the music. Bright cheerful music, and dancing.
There were long tables of food, and drink. All of it made with such kindness of heart that you could taste the love with every mouthful. Open, fellowship, and clear uncomplicated, unconditional love.
This is the miracle for which I have search for so many years. This is the blessing that my hearts needs. That we all need. I've for decades been seaching for Fezziwings.
I haven't found it yet, and I'm ashamed to say I haven't looked for some time. However I do have faith. A kind of intuitive knowing that one day I will blessed with it's discovery.
One Christmas Eve night yet to come I will walk down a quiet side street in this great bright blinking city. I will walk with unseen Angels by my side, and find a little shop whose doors are open wide to the street. From within I will hear the sounds of songs, and laughter, and then see smiles of welcome, and warmth.
At long last I will have found my blessing, my miracle. I will have come home.
If there's one thing that I love more than dolls, airplanes, and trains its old bus's. The above is a model 735 Yellow Coach Company Omnibus. They used to ply their way through the traffic, and crowds of 1930's, 40's, and early 1950's fifth avenue here in Manhattan.
I don't remember them, but my Mommy used to tell me stories about 'em. Tales of how as teenagers she, and my aunts would go on dates with my future uncles on the upper deck of these NYC double decker bus's. Apparently it didn't take much to distract kids back then.
It was the upper deck of the omnibus, the Staten Island Ferry, and hipster swing shows at the Harlem Apollo, and the midtown Paramount. 'Wish I had a time machine so I could tag along just once.
I can see it now. My Mom would say "Who da Hell is you bub?!" She was a radical Young Communist, and a Hipster in them carefree daze. I'd tell her that I was her 57 year old son from the early 21st century, and would it be okay if I hung out with her, and my future aunts'n uncles for a few hours.
Ha! My uncle George would say "...climb on jackson'n let's make the scene!" Off we go eating hot dogs drink'n cherry cokes'n me telling them about our robot rovers drive'n around mars, and all them genetic frankenstien experiments in our labs.
I won't tell them any family history,..."against the rules". "I understand it'd spoil the surprize" my Mom would say.
Anyway all that came to mind as I toured this gem of a relic. I was very happy to see it. It's part of my family lore, and finally I actually sat in an Omnibus. Sadly I couldn't go up to the top deck.
The floor is too weak.
There's no dough in the transit museum budget for that renovation for a few more years. So sometime in 2010 I might be able to ride up where my very young Mom, and uncles, and aunts rode in 1939.
My family's spirits have waited decades to greet me up there I guess a few more years won't hurt.
I was sitting around bored tonight so I set up a christmas tree in the News Room. This office is the last outpost of relative sanity at the radio station I'm sentenced to. A long stretch,...29 years so far.
Anyhow I went back to my office dug up some toys, and set this joyous tableau. I picked up the Empire State Building model about two years ago. I never got around to building it till tonight.
I really like it. It came out swell!
We were supposed to get a foot of snow, and ice, but now they say mostly rain. Just as well. I'm not in the mood for a blizzard just now. Maybe after new years. We haven't had a snow storm on Christmas for years,...maybe 10 or more. This is turning out to be like a pre-global warming winter around here. Fine with me. I really miss winter.
Anyhow Merry Holidaze comrads! (Click on pix's they look cool enlarged. Btw, Ched I put more "Teenie Weenies" on my new page "Bleeding Queers")
Actually I was in a good mood the other night when I shot this. Cold, but sort'a okay. Christmas makes me crazy. I love it, but like an old girl or boy friend it can just never be the same as before. Yeah I'm happy to see it, and I'm glad others are having a ball. However for me I guess it best I keep my distance lest my heart be broken again.
I know this sounds like something from one of those 19th century romance novel's secretly written by nice New England ladies,...but ya gets the point.
I went out for a walk in the rain last night. The air smelled of old leaves, and bus fumes. Ah late fall in the city. I was leaning against the Trump Tower looking up at the sky.
I like to watch the rain coming down from oblivion.
Ever noticed? It seems to appear just this side of the clouds. Snow is different you can clearly see it was part of the white sky, and had just broken off. Still rain has more character.
That sound it makes gurgle'n down the sewers. The hiss of tires on wet asphalt. Traffic lights, and the crimson butt end of old cars make'n their own christmas pagents. The way it mix's with the city's steam. Them clouds'a steam com'n out'a them tunnels beneath us.
So there I was just hang'n around watch'n the rain appear out of nowhere. 'From that dry, and empty well of souls I dream about.
...and they say there's no such thing as miracles.
I've been doing swell blogs for years now. I know they're neat 'cause they keep getting deleted by pissed off hosts. The only reason my famous pervert site "Inkplum" hasn't bitten da dust again yet is that a pal of mine owns the damned server.
What I'm say'n here is I do swell work, but never get no creds, nuthin', zip! My stuff was pretty, sexy, witty, and never crapped in the punch bowl. Eh,...except for that once, but I was real sick that night.
So how come I've never got any of them blogger awards that everybody else seems to be getting. Personally I think the fix is in. Friends give friends awards, and I ain't got either. Friends nor awards.
So I've decided to cook up my own gotdammned award thank you for frigg'n nuthin' cruel blogsphere. Humm, I'll have to gets back to you on exactly what this swell thing will be, but don't worry it'll be seriously swell.
Nice. Real swell. So this "lawd" guy will only love you if you believe in him. Peachy. I came across another video on g-dtube, this one designed to scare kids. A teen sends a pal an e-mail from his holding cell while he's waiting to burn for all eternity. The poor kid is terrified, and pleading. Good grief. Suffer the little children indeed.
Btw, this youngster's crime,..rape, genocide, polluting the water table, something like that? Naw, this 15 year old kid is going to burn for all eternity because he wasn't a christian. That's it. Nothing else.
What gets me is that maybe 100+ million loonies in this country believe in this sorry shit. They live in terror of this deranged heartless gawd. '...and vote accordingly.
Ah man I was in a good mood before all this talk of g-d came up.
A pal just emailed me this video from "G-dtube",...godtube.com. I'll have to check these folks out. They might be rightwing bookburn'n nutters or just nice people. I'll let ya know.
I just love sitting here all alone watching my Santa clock. (upper right) I quietly, patiently note the little blue, and red christmas presents move around, and around, and around as eternity slowly ticks away.
There are moments when I wonder just what's in those tiny, little sweetly rapped box's. Perhaps they're for the "Teeny Weenies". Remember them? Well for the youngsters out there the Teenie Weenies were a comic strip from the 1900's that was still around when I was a kid in the 50's, and early 60's.
These folks was tiny people that lived right beneath our nose's. Their house's were tin cans, old shoes or cigar box's. They had themselves a swell tiny time. My Mom especially liked them when she was little, and introduced them to me.
I guess that's why I believe's in Angels, Faeries, and stuff. Anyway I figure if I sit here long enuff maybe some of them little folks will show up to get their presents. I'll let ya know. For now,...shhhhh.
(Please click on the teenies to have a good look at 'em. Also remember these were drawn nearly a century ago. Some of the art my offend our advanced sensibilities,...right.) ***almost forgot. See the "Teenie Weenies" link on right.
I just added a Santa clock to this page. Lets see,...the red x-mas package or bomb is the hour hand. The blue package is the minute hand, and of course Santa is just Santa. Which is to say a cruel, commercial, Satanic distortion of a mostly well intended semi-pagan fantasy.
Btw, "Tick Tock" was the name of the time travel project in the old 1960's s/f series "Time Tunnel"
Okay so I took the bait. I got into the Holiday Spirit for about an hour or so, and went to midtown. See blurry snaps above. Well there was thousands of people from Nebraska, and France. A few from Brooklyn too, but they was on da job.
Yep lots of happy white people with money. That always puts me in a good mood. Especially after the cops have just shot another unarmed Black guy to death. Don't worry I'm not going there. Like what's his name said,"...why can't we just get along?"
Yeah good question.
Aw well. Look besides all that happy mayhem christmas always makes me think of really expensive electric trains sets. Ya know like the kind they used to have in the toy store window's. Them swell boy fantasy toys we used to gawk at. I remember my Dad taking me down to Sears to see the big christmas electric train layout they'd always put up.
Swell stuff that. Tons of cool geegaws, nicknacks, and stuff that smoked, and barked. I can half understand adult train spotting from all that. Well one christmas I woke up, and there beneath our tree was a cool Lionel electric train set chugging away!
Now that was a magic sight for yours truly here. Okay I'm leaving out most of the gleeful details, but again ya gets where I'm going. It is in fact possible to be happy at x-mas. Thanks Dad!
Yeah it's me that other son. The Queer one? Right. Anyway I'm 57 years old now, and living in the frigg'n 21st century,...don't ask. ..no I don't have a flying car,..I said don't ask.
Anyway I just wanted to thank you for them electric trains you got me back 200 years ago. I still have'em, and I still loves ya,...Mom too. Btw is aunt Kaye still pissed I spilled that paint on her new coat,... and how's my dog?
Brownie, her name was Brownie. We had a cat too. Named Tippy. She was alot like that evil feline Dennis, but that's another story. Getting back to my x-mas spirit thing. So yeah I went to midtown saw the Tree, and all the blinking trinkets of the season.
I'm still not sure if I'm happy or not. I'll have to get back to you on that. I'm certainly cold, and slightly disoriented. All the bright lights ya know. Kinda like be'n strapped down with strobes flickering into each eye.
Well above is some of my evidence that the holidaze are in progress. As for what they mean. Well you tell me. Just what would that nice first century Jewish guy Yashuwa make of this gawdy deranged shit that's all in his honor.
(This guy is clearly nutz, gawd bless'em! He made a model of the Subway system, and is humming away like a subway loonie while he plays with it. This comrad get frist prize in the X-Mas madness Lotto!)
Actually I took these snaps last summer, but you gets the idea. I loves faeries. They've been through hell'n back, but still has open hearts. All that sweet compassion stuff. Me,...Feh!! I used to be nice, but now I'm just another bastard.
On the other hand I'm out of meds so I'm depressed, and nuts today. Here's the funny thing. As much as the holidaze makes me crazy I'm sorry that it goes so fast. Soon Christmas, then New Years. After that another long grey winter, and all the stupid shit of another year starts all over again.
Not a way to run a railroad.
Clearly I needs a vacation. That, and lots of drugs, and booze which of course I can't have or I'll die. 'Least that's what various of my doc's told me. "You go back to your old hobbies, and you die."
I had an old dear buddy. A writer,...you've heard of him. Anyway he was told, "You drink again, and you die". He did, and he did.
So his gift to me was his final example. Thanks pal, and a merry Christmas to you too!
