False Production

I was thinking of a few more things that posterity cannot do without yesterday morning. The best story I have written ever was a Junior High School piece titled Worm Man Versus The Criminals Of The Underworld. I am a big fan of the sexual abilities of these creatures; I liken myself to a worm and have been referred to derisively as having their basic characteristics. In fact a relative in law said that I personally do not need any one other person; seemingly a statement that could be interpreted in different ( perhaps some rather dark if not morbid ) ways. To present a balanced view of our non relationship, she in her almost late seventies will converse with me on the phone at most once a month for a very limited time lately.

I was ruminating early this week one morning about ( in ) famous landlords I have been involved with as well as maintenance people. In one case I mistook ( as a junior high age kid ) one of the latter for one of the former at first glance, etcetera.

I had several such Forrest Gump type faux pas ( why can I not socially climb by throwing in all manner of foreign language verbiage into my writing? ) . As an aside, I have not had any really solid music playing in the background while I type lately. Back on topic, the first time I mistook an ex Ambassador for a gardener/maintenance/handyman guy. The second brush with celebrity inspired me to ask a sitcom super ( sort of ) star what time it was. A Grammy Award winning singer said I was the most laid back stagehand she had ever seen ( why I did not ask her could I eat that ass is a matter of conjecture ) . Finally, I sat down backstage in the green room next to a twin bill headliner; his better half did not seem really chagrined, maybe slightly bemused would be more descriptive.

Growing up we rented from in no particular order, two doctor's families, a banking executive's wife as well as the previously mentioned Middle Eastern ex dignitary. Some how, not a lot if any of this wealth rubbed off on me as best as anyone can tell. They just all had eccentricities like everybody of course. In some if not most cases there were hot tempers regularly on display.

To me the heroes of this world were and remain the fictional Kathy Griffin Seinfeld type character who gets away with insulting the big wig. In this world one must be able to, occasionally at least, bluster one's way through a situation. Fake it or you will never make it was the axiom of the somewhat dwarfish classical musician I studied under. My somewhat ( in? ) famous YouTube musician ex camping high school acquaintance professes to be a self taught finger style guitarist, meaning he is trending in his late fifties towards mediocrity yet is still possessed of his entertainer's ego.

Should a miracle of sorts occur ( meaning some unfortunate unlucky stray reader happens upon my material ) one must put what I bombastically put down into context. It is not as if I do not pay attention to others and their artistic accomplishments. Maybe it is the unrelenting intense southern summer heat that causes me to spew vitriolic horse fertilizer about very competent professionals who probably should not dignify my criticism with any response whatsoever.