Friday, October 30, 2009

Johnny Rumble:
Sharing Space

Waking up next to people, be they already wake and doing what I'm about to describe or still asleep and victims therein, is, and forever will be, an exercise in not screaming bloody murder.  People look hidieous first thing the morning.

It's when that little sliver of light, the tiniest little fraction of an inch of light, that, for some reason or another, always finds the thinest spot in your eyelids, wakes me up, I just instinctivly know that I am not alone.  Forget that I went to bed with somebody there, it's the fact that I'm lying on the edge of the bed, on my side, hip throbbing in the pain from the angle it's being submited at that tells everything I need to know.  I can't roll over and usual  and go back to sleep, nor can I shift to quickly lest I wake her up.

But it's too late.  Curiousity has gotten the best of me and I need to see the monster that I brought to my bed.  Or to hers.  Or the couch.  And on top of a piano.  Once.  I pretty much know what to expect.  A smooshed fact that looks something like a cross between an adult shar-pie and a pug, eyeliner smeered across the brigde of the nose and down her cheeks giving her that "coonie" look, hair in an absolute tangled mess that would make Medusa go, "God, she's having a bad hair day," and a glistening line of drool forming a damp spot on the pillow or the carpet.

I turn, slightly, so as not to disturb the freak show that my eyes are about to be thrust upon.  Slightly, slowly turning.  Waiting.

And there it is.

I think to myself, "Ha, whatever.  She's still cute and beautiful.  Even with all the horror."  I pull her in closer and snuggle with her underneath the comforter and fall back asleep.

Not a bad morning,

Johnny Rumble

Thursday, October 29, 2009

Johnny Rumble:
The Month of October

Usually, I love the month of October.  The Fall colors, red, brown, yellow, the smells and the sounds of the leaves rustling thier way down the street.  Sometimes the rains will come and wash the air of smog and pollution and will provide that rejuvinating spirit that I need to lift myself to the tasks ahead.

I read two book this month.  I, Shithead: A Life in Punk by Joe Keithley and Witness To A Century by George Seldes.  I have had a lot of free time on my hands owing to the fact I have no job and am currently interning for Yuba College, which has subsequently attempted to screw me over twice this year.  Once, the one class that I was counting on this semester (advanced Access,  I've been wanting to learn to database for a while now) getting dropped due to lack of students.  This in it self is not a problem.  Shit happens like that.  What really bothered me was that the college decided to call me the day before the second term was due to start, and their were very few classes available that would actually help me in any respect.  I was offered an internship at the Beale Outreach and jumped on it.

The second attempt boils my blood so much that I don't want to talk about it.

Love and Hate,

Johnny Rumble