***LONESOME
TOWN***
Trust me, guys, I’d love to be able to stop talking about Western Washington
University and how Bellingham
is a dead ringer for “Lonesome
Town” by Ricky Nelson (a
song I first heard on the Pulp Fiction soundtrack). I’ve talked enough about
it, so it’s pretty much a dead memory at this point. And then I get an email
from WWU’s department of English asking me to take a survey as to how my
experience was and how it could have been improved. If these surveys were
written on paper, they would probably end up in a big fucking fire pit. But I
took the survey anyways and gave them a piece of my mind. I told them about the
lack of social programs, the lack of psychological counseling, the bias against
introverted students, the shoddy public transportation system, the censorship
of R-rated writing assignments, need I go on? No? Okay, I’m actually relieved.
I open Face Book one day and I see that many of my classmates had the same
vitriol to spew at their former school, so it feels good not to be alone.
Perhaps the lyrics to Ricky Nelson’s “Lonesome Town”
could sum up my classmates’ feelings as they did for me. Maybe they’ll relate
to it in a non-romantic sense and I’d be inclined to agree with them. Want some
lyrics? Here they are:
VERSE 1
There's a place where lovers go
To cry their troubles away
And they call it lonesome town
Where the broken hearts stay
VERSE 2
You can buy a dream or two
To last you all through the years
And the only price you pay
Is a heart full of tears
BRIDGE
Going down to lonesome town
Where the broken hearts stay
Going down to lonesome town
To cry my troubles away
VERSE 3
In the town of broken dreams
The streets are paved with regret
Maybe down in lonesome town
I can learn to forget
Got any more surveys for me to take, WWU? You want to ask me
again to donate $50 to the English department? Sure, why don’t I give you a
blank check while I’m at it. And my social security number. And the pin number
and security code on my debit card. Go nuts! I really should stop talking about
WWU. It’s ancient history. Eight years counts as ancient history to me. Truth
is, I didn’t have any better ideas for a blog topic than those Ricky Nelson
lyrics. I was exhausted all day today and got very little done in the way of
creativity. Maybe when I snap out of my sleepy haze, I could do one of the
following:
***AMERICAN DARKNESS 3***
Two stories down, forty-eight more to go. Clocking in at
number forty eight is “Air Pain”. Clever title, huh? It goes like this:
CHARACTERS:
- Andrew
Gilbertson, Drunken Businessman
- Zack
Scott, Convicted Felon
- Tony
Battles, Zack’s Handler
- Susan
Martin, Flight Attendant
PROMPT CONFORMITY: To be announced.
SYNOPSIS: All four characters are taking a six-hour flight
to the Paulson City Airport,
which means nobody wants to be screwed with. Midway through the flight, Andrew
gets drunk and verbally abuses Susan when she denies him more alcohol. Zack, a
shackled criminal with Detective Battles watching him, considers bailing on his
handler to confront the obnoxious drunk at the risk of losing his plea deal.
The longer this flight goes, the more annoying Andrew becomes and the more Tony
considers unlocking Zack’s shackles.
***DARK FANTASY WARRIORS***
Marie Krepps jokes with me all the time about how I mostly
have fat male villains in my short stories and novels. This next Dark Fantasy
Warrior will keep the jokes rolling. His name is Big Daddy X and he comes from
a short story idea called “Sub-Culture Urban Marketing”. Anti-smoking
commercial viewers from the early 2000’s will remember that title and what
acronym it forms. “I’m sure they meant it in a good way.”
***ALLEY KAT BLUES***
Now that “No Cure for Cancer” by Denis Leary is in my
rearview mirror, it’s time for a fictional book. I purchased “Alley Kat Blues”
by Karen Kijewski (“key-EFF-ski”) at a book sale in Chehalis, Washington
(another place that could be described by Ricky Nelson’s lyrics). It was a
low-stress book sale that was void of pushing and shoving due to the wide
selection of books and big open space in the Lewis County Mall. I was happy for
the low stress. It looks as though I’ll be even happier with reading Mrs.
Kijewski’s book. It’s a crime thriller with a fast pace and a dead body or two.
I blame Brett Battles for getting me hooked on this genre. Thanks, Brett!
***WRESTLING DIALOGUE OF THE DAY***
FINN BALOR: Good luck
tonight, Roman.
ROMAN REIGNS: Good luck
to you, man.
FINN BALOR: Luck? I’m
Irish. I invented luck.
ROMAN REIGNS: Well, I’m
Samoan. Enough said.
