In Memoriam: Dusty

Dusty was my dog. He died last week. He was 16 years old. He lived a long dog-life. He was a good dog, my Mom picked him up from the pound when he was just a puppy. He was a poodle and yorkshire terrier mix. Despite his name, he was black.

Dusty has lived with my uncle and my mamaw Walker for the past, I dunno, ten years. It's a different life from when he lived with me in the apartments and houses we resided in those years in Florida. In West Virgina, where he lived most of his life, he was tied up on the front porch out in the country. Since he was a city-dog he didn't know not to run into the street, so he was tied up. He lived in the house a lot too. He wasn't used to the cold, being a city-dog from Florida, so when it got that way, in the house he would go.

When Dusy lived with me, I was a boy. He travelled with me when I was 18, to West Virginia, and there he stayed while I went to college, and New York City. When I was a boy he would sleep in my room, in his little bed that was made for cats, under my desk beside the door. Anyone, except my Mom, who tried to go into the bedroom would hear a growl from Dusty. He was mean. Not mean to me though. Nor my Mom or Step-Dad. He bit my baby cousin, Eli when he wandered into my room. Dusty was in big trouble then.

When we lived in Barley's Club apartments in Florida, a cheap place to live, we also had a cat. Baby was his name. We were given him by my Step-Aunt and Step-Uncle... they named him. He was de-clawed and neutered, but before that happened he was as vicious as he was playful. Eventually he and Dusty where friends. Baby would clean Dusty with his tongue, rough though it was, it probably felt great to Dusty. My Mom would claim that they were like two men in prison who started a relationship to deal with their surroundings. Like the film Midnight Express. Once, my girlfriend was over, we were watching a film, and Baby was lying in the middle of the floor grooming himself. Suddenly he snapped his head towards the hallway. Dusty came barrelling into the livingroom, a missle. Baby jumped straight up in the air and Dusty went under him, kung-fu movie style. Then they took off in a chase out of sight. We laughed.

I loved that dog and it makes me sad that he is no longer around and that it has been years since I had seen him.

Indulge me for a second

Here I go again...

Apparently I am now rooting for my most hated Dukie, JJ Redick. Hate him but I have to support him now because the idiot in the front office, the same idiot who drafted Vasquez without ever meeting him or seeing him play, drafted him. It what world does JJ have a different career than Trajon Langdon? How are they different as players? I would say that Langdon is more athletic and a better defender.
It's amazing that have a good jumper and a college system designed to get you as many shots as humanly possible will get you picked in the lottery EVEN THOUGH you have a bad back (and a future drinking problem).
I wanted Roy or even Brewer but I'm glad we didn't trade to get them because Arroyo would have been involved and we have to keep him so the team stays in Orlando. The Puerto Rican fans that Arroyo brings to the arena will keep this team afloat for a season or two. If you go to the message boards in Orlando (I don't recommend it) they are trying to get Jameer benched for Arroyo! That would be dumb but he's a good back up PG and brings said fans.

Imagine a Magic game next year where the ball goes in to Dwight, comes back out and is rotated to JJ who nails the 3 who then gets his ankles broken and his back wrenched by ANY shooting guard on ANY roster in the league. It's a 2 guard's league now and he is going to get toasted nightly. Is it possible that he can come off the bench and fair better against second team's guards? Yes, but why do you draft a guy at 11 that will come off the bench for the rest of his career. I don't care how weak the draft is you could get a starter at 11 if you use your head.

Otis... you fucked me. At least I don't have to watch 6 years of games with Morrison shooting himself in the stomach at the break between quarters. That would have been hell on earth. You know that they are going to show it every game!

I'm not even going to touch the 6'11" stiff we drafted in the second round. He'll never see a minute on this team.

Okay that's it. That's all the negativity I will bring until JJ fails. I will root for him and hope that he will hustle on D and play smart, and shoot the lights out. I want JJ to make me look like an asshole again (remember my Tim Duncan prediction) so that my team will improve. Now I'm Mr. Positive Magic Fan. I'll give JJ until the All Star break. If he doesn't impress me then I'm back to the real me.

In other news.... Danny Ainge... what are you doing sir? Telfair? Good luck with that.

Some notes on IDLENESS and SLEEP

During this time of unemployment I, as often is the case, alter my sleeping habits. Not out of any desire to do so but out of blind servitude to "inspiration", or whatever is passing for that in my life at the moment. My brain is more fertile during night. Or so I tell myself.

It is true that I have done, and thought, more creative and worthy things between the hours of 12am and 4am, but I hate it. I hate this routine. It isolates me from the world, including my girlfriend and family, more than it is worth, for I have no masterpiece in the works at this point. I simply fiddle about on this and that, believing that whenever I get my shot these times will prove the perfect example of the genius of my method.

I say again that I hate it. I would rather work in the morning, like most functioning people (my uncle Donnie wrote between the hours of 5am and 8am when my Aunt and cousins would then awaken... he has since lost his mind) but find the world of sleep to joyful a place to leave. I never want to get up until half the day is gone and then I curse myself as a lazy oaf. What is one to do?

Atempt to fix the problem? Yes. How? Well that is where I err. I decide that I will stay up through the time when I am tired and power on towards a time when it would be normal for me to go to sleep. Then my pattern will right itself and I'll get up around 8am. I've done it before. It feels good. I feel like a human being when it's like that. I tried to do this last night and couldn't. I was here, in my room the entire time. The bed calling to me, inviting. So I decided to take a "nap" at 3:30pm...ish. Yeah, I slept until 10pm and have been up ever since. I even took Tylenol PM, to no avail. (I did feel tired though)

So here I am, awake, resolute to stay that way until 10pm this evening. I will be active. Go somewhere in the city. Try not to fall asleep on the subway. Wish me luck.

And here are some pictures of cool comic book covers.





Can you believe that Don Rickles is on the cover and a character INSIDE this comic. That Jimmy Olsen comic.

I love that Dingbats cover and I'm currently tring to win all 17 issues of Metamorpho the element man on ebay. Could cost me 20 bucks if I win. I'll probably lose.

For lack of a better idea...

Don't really have anything to post. I finished Six Feet Under last night at about 5am of my jobless existense. So good. So powerful. I wept through the funeral episode, ep-510, and the end, with it's rushed summing-up, felt like a weight off of my shoulders after all of that pain. Who knew that a television show could acheive such a thing. As good as Sopranos is it can easily veer off into genre convention to get out of many storytelling binds. Six Feet Under didn't have such a luxury.

Oh, here is a picture of a painting I did of a picture of myself.

First Message

Nothing to say really. Just thought I would register this blog. Maybe I'll blog sometime. Might be fun. Practice putting words into sentences. Could always get better at that. Oh and here is a picture.