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Sunday, September 23, 2012

But Sometimes There's Just a Loud Roaring in My Ears




A re-worked re-post from this beer-drinking moron. Enjoy!


As one can imagine about someone who writes every day, I like to spend a certain amount of my life with no actual connection to reality.

I find it just works better with my line of thinking.

My favorite fantasies include a mixture of what could conceivably happen with what could never.

In other words, in my head, it is possible for me to rescue Elvis Presley from drowning while waterskiing.

I find that my best daydreaming is done in that nebulous time between awake and asleep.

I love that region, by the way. It’s like a tiny little vacation.

My favorite late-night fantasy, the one I’ve been lulling myself to sleep with lately, involves my having become a highly respected clarinet player, swinging, Benny-Goodman style, with a 40-piece band behind me. Gene Krupa is our steady drummer and a helluva guy if you can keep him off the sauce. Billie Holiday sometimes joins us for a song or two, rising from the table she keeps up front when she knows we’re in town. She plays a hot game of craps and most of the band owes her money.

We play all the hottest spots. Our crowds are hep cats who show up late and host outrageous after-bar parties. My best friends are L’il Jack, Midge, and Paulie, people who wear vintage clothing and pull short, unfiltered cigarettes from mother-of-pearl cases. Paulie and Midge have been together since forever, but Li’l Jack plays the field.

He’s such a hoot.

I am known as a generous soul, and I am forever being approached by people who had been mean to me in high school and now want to apologize.

They are always profuse with their regrets: “Pearl, we had no idea! Please forgive us for not having recognized your coolness sooner!”

If my difficult childhood has taught me anything, it’s how to be humble in the face of their groveling; and I have the bartender send their table a round of drinks, on my tab, just to show them that there are no hard feelings.

This sometimes leads to misunderstandings, though, and my now-fans try to get closer than I am comfortable with. ‘Hey, Pearl, I love your shoes. So where’s the band going after?’

When I have to make it clear to them, no offense intended, that they just don’t fit into the crowd I hang with now, they are always a little saddened. There are the inevitable tears as the truth of my words sink in; and I am forced to reflect, once again, on the responsibility that my genius carries.




As I say, I like to spend a certain amount of time in my head, away from the madding crowds; but it's not all fun and games in there.

26 comments:

Sioux said...

I can see your hep self up there on stage. And you're way more generous with the mean kids from your past than I would be. I might send them a drink, but I might also hock up something and spit it in their drink before it was delivered.

At least I'd like to think I would...

mybabyjohn/Delores said...

You have to have some place you can go for some privacy..if not your own head...then where?

Paula Wooters said...

"Please forgive us for not having recognized your coolness sooner!” What I'd love to hear every night before going to sleep!

So... where ARE you going after the gig, Pearl?

Indigo Roth said...

Hey Pearl! I'm a dork in a crowd, and never get invited to parties after. Still. I do like your shoes. Indigo x

Joanne Noragon said...

Wow. I remember a great deal of living happened in my head between the time I sorta woke up and the time I got up. I just don't remember it past the time I brush my teeth!

So, are you hanging out with Liza Bean these nights?

Sextant said...

Wow Pearl, your fantasies are varied and rich. Quite possibly because I don't hang out in bars much, I seldom see people that I went to high school with, but about every 5 years I get the dreaded invite to yet another re-union. Let's see back then I was legally obligated by the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania to spend at least 6 hours a day in awe of the beautiful, athletic, witty and most likely to succeed. No thanks on that reunion, I am still ugly, a klutz, dumb, and no I didn't succeed...I just was.

But I did have a fantasy, once, of me, virile and witty, 6 pack rippling under my Banlon, standing in a bevy of admiring girls next to my Corvette..."Oh can I have a ride in you car?" Then I look down and to my horror...I have white socks on. I think that was back in 1966 that I had that fantasy. I have tried to avoid them ever since.

R. Jacob said...

Luckily I happen to like beer drinking morons of the female persuasion who need to stand tippy toe to reach the top of the fridge!

NotesFromAbroad said...

There is something about "beer drinking morons" or at least one that I know of... they are very lovable.

Vapid Vixen said...

That time between awake and asleep never lasts quite long enough.

jenny_o said...

You failed to mention the high-school category of academically gifted, which I suspect is where you resided :)

An invite into your head would be even more appreciated than to the after-bar party, by this dork at least.

jabblog said...

Time spent in your head is never wasted - and it's entirely your own time.

Geo. said...

You get shoes with your fantasies? I'm impressed. We don't get promotional deals like that out here. Delightful post!

esbboston said...

Even though we have never met, I could neVer consider you a moron after reading so many of your weLL positioned words into sentences into stories. If you insist, I might consider the label temporarily chemicaLLy induced moron. Now, off to read more of today's post .... ah, you are a more-of.

esbboston said...

... vv o vv, veRy interesting passage, I held my chuckles until the end.

vanilla said...

...and I am the concert pianist who rivals Paderewski; but it is my skills as diplomat and statesman that put him in the shadows.

fishducky said...

I LOVE what happens in your head!! Thanks for letting us come in & stay a while...

D. Gage said...

I recently (meaning about 5 hours ago) had a dream that the federal government locked my computer and I couldn't access any programs. When I woke up I ran into my study, turned on my desktop and found that....

it really was just a dream. Thank God.

jenny_o said...

oops, that was Sextant, not you Pearl, who set out the high school categories ... apologies :)

Eva Gallant said...

there's so much more going on in your head than mine; I'm envious!

MITM said...

So it's you i heard at the after set at Minton's. You ever thought about switching to soprano sax? I think you would find your own grove.

Remember flatted fifths, altered ninths.

Good thing you ditched the digbys!

Linda O'Connell said...

Oh if you could hear the conversations in my head, why sometimes, I even open my mouth and what I'm thinking spills out. Then I say, "Did I say that out loud?"

Twisted Scottish Bastard said...

I love fantasies.

You meet a better sort of person.

HermanTurnip said...

"In other words, in my head, it is possible for me to rescue Elvis Presley from drowning while waterskiing."

Weird...you too?

The Elephant's Child said...

The time betwee waking and sleep is truly magical, but my fantasies do not compare with yours. Not no how. Sad.

Pat Tillett said...

I really try to stay out of my head. It's dark and scary in there...

Granny used to say that graduation (from high school) was the great equalizer. The cool kids, tend to become the opposite of what they were then and the not so cool kids blossom...

sophanne said...

Once upon a time a very old Gene Krupa was the featured artist of my music school's percussion ensemble. He went to the percussionists after-party. So did I. The closest I can ever hope to get to Billie Holiday is a David Sedaris impersonation in one of his books on tape. You're my new favorite blogger.