Well, where to begin...
...got no deep connection to these places (Saco, Biddeford) like I do Westbrook, so the trips kinda passed over me with no jarring insight...
BUT, one thing did stand out, was in how relatively relaxed I was driving through traffic that normally jangles my nerves, building up towards teeth gritted hissed cursing, and a throbbing in my head.
The difference?
My beloved MP3 player.
Popular music on FM radio has been bubbling sewage since the 90's, and talk radio is all Rush/Beck/Hannity/Dr. Laura nightmare lava anus vomit, so I drive in cold silence.
Alone, with my angry thoughts, and traffic.
Having that little magic gum-pack stuffed full of good tunes, and Bill Hicks, really did the trick to medicate me.
What a fucking difference.
Best thing I ever bought in my life, seriously.
Yesterday, I pumped my Weird Al, Dr. Demento, and Bob Rivers stuff into it, and that'll definitely cheer me up even more.
Reminds me of how, at some of my crappy jobs, they had shitty tunes on, and it really does fucking demoralize and weaken you.
Zaitlin had fucking country shit on, and Wal-Mart, they had alterna-crap on, and 8-10 hours of that shit just sucks the fucking life out of you.
Then you drive home, and it's Rush going "blurba-da blurba blurb, drive by media! Blurba blurba bluurrpp!".
So, if bad radio can sicken, sure as hell good stuff heals, and by crikey does it ever.
So, I gotta be pro-active, and stock up on good shit.
I love the shit out of the Bill Hicks/Len Belzer interviews, but only so many times I can listen to those before I burn out.
I'm gonna pump an extra Micro-SD card full of good podcasts.
I dunno what yet, but that's gonna help.
Gonna help a lot.
See, between crap oozing out of the TV, and out of the radio, and then on certain boards (cough!), you start to think the whole world has been totally taken over by stupid assholes, and it tears you the fuck down, and then you think that that's the world you have to take on when you get behind the wheel, and no wonder the road rage tingles start right up.
Least, that happened to me for awhile.
Part of what made me a hermit.
But, it's an illusion.
A VR hologram.
A big smoke puff of lowest common denominator pandering by the marketing scum.
There's good shit out there, by good people.
What a fucking blessing the internet is.
That, and CD ripping.
If tech like this hadn't come along, I think I really would have gone crazy putting up with the moron mass culture, and the horrific shallow selfish attitudes it shills.
Another reason I root for science over superstition.
Another aspect is, assuming a planet full of assholes for a worst case scenario, I at least know the people that made all this music and comedy that has enriched my life are good.
So we start there.
And they make enough money off their stuff to hang around, so they have other fans.
So, I know they must be plugged in, and turned on.
And the people who built all this technology, and wrote all this software had good intent.
And some of them must be fans of the stuff I like.
So, there's hundreds of cool people out there for me to find.
Hell, I know a bunch of 'em on the net.
So, where the fuck are they in Maine?
Howcome I was always stuck with the redneck/Jerry Springer/Rethuglican/sociopath trash?
Where the fuck are my people?
They've gotta be out there.
Gotta be.
So, that's the next phase of this "quest for hope", gotta track down, and build a community of like minds.
They gotta be out there.
Gotta be.
It can't just be me in a redneck zombie wasteland, it can't be.
I won't accept it.
Not anymore.
But I gotta formulate a plan....
“Dune: Part Two” Score Seeks An Oscar
7 hours ago
7 comments:
Excellent. Uplifting. Positive. Feel-good ending. Ever think of writing a screenplay? ;)
Make sure it's a cunning plan - "as cunning as a fox who's just been appointed Professor of Cunning at Oxford University"
I also despair over the amount of shit in this world, why people want to be the peerless bastards that they want to be baffles me.
But then I think of all that says bugger off to all that shit, it does exist and it is shouting it loudly in the face of all the crap.
Sod them, they will not destroy my will to be weird, my quest to drink tea, the music I listen to, the people I know on this Earth who make it all so worth while - there is even cheesecake!
Keep up the good work Mike and thanks for the Locations, I do keep up with it all, it's brilliant!
Revisited.
https://dickynoo.blogspot.com/2019/05/revisits-38.html
"nightmare lava anus vomit" - LOL.
I lost the CD player in my car for awhile around 2006 and that was pretty hellish. I considered just driving around with a pair of headphones and a portable CD player in its place but that was embarrassing and illegal.
Maine is still pretty much flyover country right? Is there anything the state is really known for besides Stephen King?
Alex Jones seems to be on the wane now and he was the substitute for Rush for the last few years. Really he was even worse than Rush though.
Hopefully, podcasts are chipping away at conservative talk radio too.
Yeah, flyover country is about right.
I saw a map that graded the states by opportunity, happiness, crime, etc, Maine was 32, and then Vermont, and New Hampshire were 4 and 2, and Mass was 6.
No wonder our neighbor states have always been so fucking snooty.
We're the stinky hoarder lady with the feral cats.
I can't believe anyone still bothers with the FM/AM radio at all anyway. Do people still do ham radios too?
Obviously I can't talk since my state is best known for f***ing Fred Phelps (dead several years, but the stench of his ghost hangs over the state like you wouldn't believe--God knows what he would have thought of Trump, since he liked to crap all over the US government and dead soldiers' graves, too--didja know he wrote a laudatory note to Saddam Hussein?)
You were probably never going to watch this, but the 90s indie film "Welcome To The Dollhouse" isn't terribly good. Now you know!
I've seen "Welcome To The Dollhouse"!
Eh, it's watchable.
I put the FM on sometimes if I'm bored, or I'm in the big city, and need to take my mind off my stress.
More often than not, I'd rather talk to myself, and rehearse jokes/rants.
Assholes in traffic give me material.
I make up humiliating tragic backstories for them.
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