Tuesday, March 13, 2007
spring break! what is i-i-it
Tuesday morning. Well, okay afternoon really, but for me it still seems like morning. I'm breaking fast with a turkey sandwich and washing it down with a bloody mary. There's nothing like little hair of the dog that bit me to start the day. "Vodka and a cigarette, there's nothing that beats buzzing in the morning" is how a line from one of my unfinished songs goes.
All in all, not a bad start to the second day of spring break.
I stayed up a little too late last night, had perhaps a drink or two more than is prudent. But what the fuck, it is spring break after all. I know I've said this before, so please forgive my redunancy, my dear reader. But on this spring break from the daily grind of special education I can't help but harken back to a simpler, easier, more inebriated time.
. . . Many years ago, in a little bar in Matamoros filled primarily with underage American kids getting way to drunk than is safe in a border town I stood drinking a Corona smoking those little filterless Mexican cigarettes and talking to some typically hardened looking biker dudes. I remember them as being old and lecherous, and wondering what the fuck were they doing there as we traded inappropriately obscene comments and talked about the things we would like to do with the young coeds whose lean, lithe, and tanned bodies bumped, ground, and gyrated on the dance floor. Some cheesy Mexican cover band banged out a bastardized version of Faith No More's "Epic", screaming "Spring Break! What is i-i-it? Spring Break!".
Those were the days, my friend, those were the days.
Please don't take me wrong, my dear reader, I by know means wish a return to those salad days. Like all of us, I find from time to time it refreshing and relaxing to look back, to reminisce and wax nostalgic about the glory days of youth.
It's like Brother Bob sang:
Do not mistake me, my dear reader, I wish no return to those days. I am quite blessed and content with where life has taken me thus far. I have the love of a beautiful wife, a glorious child, an illustrious career. I have a wonderful house filled with all the conveniences and toys of modern life.
Although I will confess that from time to time I do miss the comraderie and fellowship of spending my days hanging out with a group of equally grungy and like minded young men whose only goals were to outdrink and outlast each other while mostly vaingloriously failing at scoring with the girls we somehow managed to surround ourselves with: Kid Tahoe, Bishop Groove, Count Spew, The Sloth, The Sneaky Dwartz, Dave, Mikey and Mike (why they escaped nicknames I do not recall), Stump, Tesh, Curtis and Chris. Like the names and deeds of the great Roman Emperors of old, they will go down in my history book.
Ah, enough of the past. My bloody mary cup is running empty and the sandwich is long since gone. I have yardwork to do. And while it is most definitely work, I do not complain. I relish and enjoy it. I'll most likely grab a beer and my ipod and jump right in. It just seems as though it never will end and I know that is truth. When we bought our little 50 year old piece of the planet in July I knew we were taking on a big responsibility, but is our responsibility, our home. We are building the future.
Happy Spring Break.
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All in all, not a bad start to the second day of spring break.
I stayed up a little too late last night, had perhaps a drink or two more than is prudent. But what the fuck, it is spring break after all. I know I've said this before, so please forgive my redunancy, my dear reader. But on this spring break from the daily grind of special education I can't help but harken back to a simpler, easier, more inebriated time.
. . . Many years ago, in a little bar in Matamoros filled primarily with underage American kids getting way to drunk than is safe in a border town I stood drinking a Corona smoking those little filterless Mexican cigarettes and talking to some typically hardened looking biker dudes. I remember them as being old and lecherous, and wondering what the fuck were they doing there as we traded inappropriately obscene comments and talked about the things we would like to do with the young coeds whose lean, lithe, and tanned bodies bumped, ground, and gyrated on the dance floor. Some cheesy Mexican cover band banged out a bastardized version of Faith No More's "Epic", screaming "Spring Break! What is i-i-it? Spring Break!".
Those were the days, my friend, those were the days.
Please don't take me wrong, my dear reader, I by know means wish a return to those salad days. Like all of us, I find from time to time it refreshing and relaxing to look back, to reminisce and wax nostalgic about the glory days of youth.
It's like Brother Bob sang:
If you know your history,The past is an inevitable and unavoidable piece of the future.
Then you would know where you coming from,
Then you wouldnt have to ask me,
Who the eck do I think I am.
Do not mistake me, my dear reader, I wish no return to those days. I am quite blessed and content with where life has taken me thus far. I have the love of a beautiful wife, a glorious child, an illustrious career. I have a wonderful house filled with all the conveniences and toys of modern life.
Although I will confess that from time to time I do miss the comraderie and fellowship of spending my days hanging out with a group of equally grungy and like minded young men whose only goals were to outdrink and outlast each other while mostly vaingloriously failing at scoring with the girls we somehow managed to surround ourselves with: Kid Tahoe, Bishop Groove, Count Spew, The Sloth, The Sneaky Dwartz, Dave, Mikey and Mike (why they escaped nicknames I do not recall), Stump, Tesh, Curtis and Chris. Like the names and deeds of the great Roman Emperors of old, they will go down in my history book.
Ah, enough of the past. My bloody mary cup is running empty and the sandwich is long since gone. I have yardwork to do. And while it is most definitely work, I do not complain. I relish and enjoy it. I'll most likely grab a beer and my ipod and jump right in. It just seems as though it never will end and I know that is truth. When we bought our little 50 year old piece of the planet in July I knew we were taking on a big responsibility, but is our responsibility, our home. We are building the future.
Happy Spring Break.
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