this weak in anime

i was watching macross frontier when i came across this bit of subtitle.

actually it was much better than the bastard remembers macross to be.

—the bastard

...on manifest destiny

real time: there's a woman who looks terribly underdressed for 20 degrees in front of me. the bastard questions whether or not he would wear that sort of outfit on this type of night,

in this type of weather.

flashback: "umm, I'm goin' to mom and dad's on Saturday", I shout across 32nd street and lex.

"I won't see you then", the mofo bellows back and them disappears into the nightime cold

I had a thought in the walk back about our conversation about the q borough

and our collective futures.

and always wanting one foot in it.

regardless.

and it reminded me of a conversation I had that was it's own self fulfilling prophecy.

the nice lady had asked me towards the beginning what would have happened if we had never met and never married.

would I have moved into some neighborhood like gramercy park and lived some other life I never knew I would have had?

and i had always said something to try and postpone the inevitable and that I didn't think like that.

but here i am.

in gramercy park.

living a life I never thought I would.

and I still want to keep one foot in queens.

because it's the only option.

I'll always be there for the bastard

in some way

shape

or form.

is what it is.

but, it's mine.

—the bastard

where my thoughts escape me

well kids.

the bastard regrets to inform you that this was a mullet free show.

we were encased in a box, with no view of the floor

so unless someone with a mullet came into the room, nothing was seen.

so your just gonna have to deal with that shit.

now tha I am past all checkpoints.

I'm getting breakfast and thinking about getting home and it makes me think of a certain Simon and garfunkel song.

—the bastard

...on breaktime

the bastard is tired.

I didn't bother getting breakfast prior to getting to the airport for a reason.

the reason being is that I am less stressed when all of my check in business is done.

if i had known that the check in counter gets a coffee break. I would have had breakfast already.

let the seething begin.

—the bastard

the job

done.

fin.

another one in the hopper.

it's nice to be done.

and done early.

big steak night.

—the bastard

...on too much information

you know,

if you're in the bathroom so long

that you need to take a cigarette break in the middle of doing your business,

maybe you need to see a doctor about your messed up intestines.

or maybe not smoke while in the can.

not hating

just saying

—the bastard

time machine

when day one is over,

there is always cautious optimism.

we go into day two cocksure and innevitably,

it all goes pear shaped.

but tonight, the bastard stepped into the time machine.

and made some money at the craps table.

didn't suck.

the bastard's garden grows.

—the bastard

day 0: all hat, no cattle

so, the bastard has noticed that the loch ness mullet has become a rarer and rarer sight at the gun show.

so

I'm seeing more and more hats

at least we do when the show is out west

it's a little bit a wango.

and a little bit a tango.

—the bastard

the bastard is las vegas

let the bastard start off by saying that the bastard does most of his blogging on blogpress and he can't understand why the trustie has trouble with it.

on the ground 24 hours and the bastard feels less like hell.

he's walkin the route to the new box where all the hell happens.

he comes alive.

he had four fingers of bourbon with dinner last night

good times.

—the bastard

apparently, I'm a terrorist

well here's a first.

the bastard just got padded down by tsa

apparently they found out about that plot by bald, blond haired, blue eyed, men from queens.

you sussed me out Johnny law.

now concentrate on actual threats.

—the bastard

roll

an hour of sleep

never felt so trucked

my driver clearly smokes in the car.

I hope i'm never dead.

we are the road crew.

—the bastard

precipice

flashback: "what will you do if something goes wrong?"

"nothing will go wrong.", the bastard replie

"but what if? what would you do?" prodded my ladyfriend

"I've been doing this for 8 years this year. the process is bomb proof. nothing can go wrong."

flash forward: I pull into the garage, tired and a little loagy from the evening's repast. door open I fiddle for the garage keys and I see my daughter's butterfly toy that she has been enjoying as most 4 month olds do.

grab it to put it in my pocket and

close

the

door.

damn.

panicked, the bastard races to his old apartment to look for the set that the mofo uses but to no avail.

and he ain't home.

I call the local precinct but instead see a cop car backing up continental ave.

panting the officer asks me if I'm okay, looking concerned and perhaps had his hand on the piece just in case junkies wear trenchcoats these days.

officer bald and cautious apologizes as the po pos no longer carry slim jims and advises me to call a towing company apologizing again and wishing me luck.

sidebar: in today's age of information, one can procure the means to call a towing company quite quickly with a little iPhone app called "yelp". it has gotten the bastard from here to Kansas city and back and will presumably help feed me in the coming days

but tonight, it got my car open for me.

and to the little fella with the heat miser hair who is no doubt losing the cash I gave him in Atlantic city tonight as I type this, the bastard says thanks.

hunched over the couch, typing this, instead of getting the 4 hours of sleep I'll be getting shortly here I am chiding myself.

bombproof?

nothing will go wrong?

fuck that. this may be the year it all goes to hell.

and there I'll be.

riding that shit into the ground like slim pickins in dr strangelove.

yippy Kai yay mother fucker.

see you on the strip

—the bastard

...on breathing

so,

with lead in his lungs,

the bastard heads east for a doctor visit in the q borough.





a long nights work to get some drugs for my asthma.

i'm really rethinking this whole long distance relationship with my generl practitioner.

the businessman in me asks where the ROI is in these trips out east by mass transit to get a refill everytime they won't spot me a month of scrip becasuse I haven't been back in three months.

coincidentally the bastard gets three months worth.

so there's no overlap.

I think I need a second opinion.

—the bastard

...on long distance dedications

now the bastard is not often with reposting people's stuff but, i was sent a link by the trustie today and as i scrolled through the guy's site and i came across this which had me wondering how the mad russian has been lately. and since he's a huge fan, i thought what the hell.

hooper drives

the boat

chief

chum on this

aye haz an owwy

Smile you son of a BITCH

boom!

i'm casey kasem, and this is fucking ponderous.

—the bastard

and just like that...

... it's a very special 1970's edition of NYC.

we live in a nice neighborhood for the mostpart.

but during the week, you wouldn't know it between the hours of 8 and 10 am.

you see, there's a methadone clinic around the corner.

and in the morning, the junkies come from far and wide.

to get "clean".

and this evening one of the junkies must be expressing his thoughts in the matter.

and for a moment i was walking down 222nd street as a youth.

crack viles crunching under my feet.

just like autumn leaves.

walking to my favorite record store in the bad part of town.

knowing that more than likely that it was a drug front.

but they had the latest album by something something explosion.

at the end of the day your memories are all you've got left.

—the bastard

...on lightheadedness

my head was frozen from the walk from the garage.

got a cup of coffee and a few minutes of warmth at the coffee-a-teria.

as the bastard stepped back out into the cold night air I felt the slip.

the fuzziness.

the brief notion that your head was swimming through aspic.

I briefly thought on the allergy medicine and the dizzyness associated with it and made a deal with myself.

if you stay away from the platform's edge, i promise not to fall.

solid.

it sucks getting old.

—the bastard

...fume

"I'm a lone wolf ligger.

but i ain't no glitter boy".

—lemmy

it's gorgeous out.

cold and fucking gorgeous out.

last night's plan went all pear shaped and the bastard has to make the sojourn to queens today.

there are worse fates.

at least the bastard's got his health.

lungs feel like lead.

I'll get medicated next week. it'll be fine.

then my ladyfriend will be able to sleep at night.

which means the bastard ca. sleep at night.

so untl then, it's me and the F train and the awe inspiring guitar lead of accept's "bound to fail".

why do I love that song so much?

—the bastard

...reaping the whirlwind

pardon me.

can you take me to the hospital?

i think the bastard broke his ass.

we're like a week out from the gun show and the bastard's asthma is getting on him.

the kids in the downtown office just pulled a bait and switch. i hope that it's not me and the posse hand drawing these live pages.

—the bastard

ummah gahd

ummah gahd.

did ah tell u thah on our first date

John took me to do his laundry

ummah gahd. rilly?

ummah gahd, yah.

squeal

oh gay man, if you slept with John on your trip to the laundry, and you're calling that a date, it isn't a date.

it may very well be having sex with a guy who made you work for it.

I hope it was worth it.

ummah gahd.

stay classy laundry room. stay classy

—the bastard

two eyes from the east

tired.

so, as I mentioned earlier, the bastard mentioned meeting up with the past solely for the purposes of rocking.

it went down like this.

all comers were glad to be in each other's company musically after 20 years.

and we blew through our set list for the evening.

some of it was good and some of it went south for lack of knowing. I can safely say that it wasn't the bastard's best rendition of "over the mountain".

buy it was when we ran out of set list for the night.

and when we ran out of songs that we did together on a stage once upon a time on a spring night in 1987.

and we just

did shit

off of the top of our heads,

this was where the magic lies.

someone played a riff or a fill from our collective pasts and everyone else picked it up.

and we ran with it.

we fucking ran.

at some point in time we improvised our way through dio's "the last in line" and the bastard leaned his head against the microphone,

and held it back,

because I realized whose company I was in all those years ago and tonight and I was just so happy to be doing this again.

see how we shine.

—the bastard

...on rocking

going back in time tonight.

to 1987

I was in a band back then.

meeting up with them again tonight.

this should be good

—the bastard

well it's a new decade

and boom goes the dynamite.

—the bastard