Shower Dynamics (1995)

The 1^st Principal of Shower Dynamics as applied to showering bodies in a 9 to 5 configuration:

If you intend to shower from 9 to 5 you can (and do) generate phone calls and appointments with up to 99.9% certainty—simply by removing your clothing, stepping into the hot (or mild whatever the temp of your choice) water and lathering up.

At this point, the phone will almost always certainly ring, or someone will come to the door—or both. The dog will bark, you will cuss, and the birds will sing, and bells will ring.

The only possibility of this not occurring would be in the event that one were actually trying to prove this theorem by generating heretofore unexpected phone calls. Persons of this caliber are fools, basing many of life’s decisions on the spurious divinations of hairballs, potato entrails and other random chance erosion/sediment patterns.

Songs written by the window of 180-1/2 E. 8th Ave, across the street from Quest Diagnostics in Chico(1995)

Songs Written by the Window

Well I’m old and I wear a hat

And I carry a pack

And I drive the company truck

Wearing flannel overcoats and the like

Now I’m drivin’ away

A young lady in a small red car

Make that a middle age wreck

The woman not the car

Lookin’ like heck and

Frantically digging in her purse

And tripping in her highly

Inappropriate heels

Fine young grunge princess

Disappeared behind the bushes

I wonder where she went?

Will I see her again?

More on this as it unfolds

Maintenance contractor, union type

Gets out of the rig that’s

Blocking my view—what’s he

Gonna do?

Old people, young people

Waiting for their urine tests

Waiting for the word on their pee

Did I pass? Did I? I sure

Hope the bum I bought the

Piss from didn’t lie to me

Just to take my money—oh, well

Well, I’m waiting? What’s the news

On my juice?

Andrew Letter 48 -- The Huckleberry Report

 
 

Wuhll Howdy, Momster,

Shucks, hi-are-yi-doin? 

Sunday rnernin 'bout 7am an' I is feelin' verbose. Mah dawg is watchin' Gardening Naturally. He prefers the O.J. Simpson proceedings (boring legal jargon puts him right to sleep). I am secretly training him in his sleep with old Lassie, Flipper and Scooby-Doo episodes--anything with good human/animal role models. Absolutely no Police Dog or Ninja Pups with gratuitous barking. Steven King is right out.

I tell ya it's eternal vigilance ya gotta have with these kids. He's a feisty little toddler, but I'm breaking him. A little psych­ology, a little reasoning--talking him through it like a director (sit-good-perfect-fabulous-hold it--- no, no, no -- it's all wrong­, take it from the top, etc). Gettin' a picture, yet?

Yeah, but he loves me. He won't never catch a rabbit, but that's OK cause he's good enough, smart enough and doggonit -- people like him. Especially little kids. He licks their little faces, whereas he bites my scraggly old beard (still looking for a teat somewhere in there).

Whoa--gotta GO. 

Little tyke was getting restless. I gotta get him on an independent study program, 'stead of this Mr. Constant Attention Required.

But he's a regular Gomer Pile, or uh, Forrest Dump. He does his most prodigious work outdoors, thank God. He's had his first worms and his first fleas. Oh boy, what's next? His first psychoanalysis? His first double homicide? Aw, heck, I can feel a nap corning on...

And the days and weeks whirred by like daises, like birds, and the spring came with its lengthening of days and balmy nights. And there was music, and bells -- but I never heard them ringing. No, I never heard them at all -- and there was Huck.

Old sad, droopy-eyed, mutton-jowled, hang-dog shuckle-burnpkin. He's got Willie Nelson Ears. He's my buddy. Did I mention that he loves me? He shore does. He's always trying to make eye contact with me, just for reassurance. Now, who will reassure me?

I seem to have faith these days, or is it blissful ignorance? Wutcha gonna do when the well run dry? Get a haircut and get a real job? I dunno. I'd a hundred times rather be just making it and be my own boss than be working for someone else eight hours a day, day in day out. Especially with today's corporate streamlining, downsizing and layoffs of long-term employees nearing retirement age, blah, blah, blah ...

The world is starting to suck for a large number of people. Or has it always sucked? Is sucking intrinsic to the world? Is the balance of sucking shifting out of our favor? For whom doesn't it suck and why? Is it just a state of mind?

Do we need drugs? Or guns? Or bombs, or what? Is the answer to just live quietly, ignoring it all, or is that just postponing the inevitable? We've got hate groups race riots, people poisoning Tylenol ... are we headed for Armageddon? Live, breaking news -- The End of the World -- we'll show it to you right after these messages.

Thus endeth the ravings of one Andrew P. Golding this day, Monday 9am 4-24-95.

OK, it looks like I’m a little late getting this bulletin out. No new news. See ya when I see ya.

 

Love,

Andrew

Andrew Letter 49 - 3-21-95 Approaching The Big Three-O (font is Slacker Illegibilius, pat. pending)

 

Andrew Letter 40 - Blue Christmas in the new shop

 

 

Season's Greetings, Merry-merry, and a ho, ho, ho ... (and all that sort of rot). Hi, hello, yabba-dabba-doo.

Thank you very much for the lovely Christmas Package (which I opened immediately upon delivery, to the dismay of the still present postman). I don't know when I lost the Christmas Spirit. I never have been too sporting. Remember when I ditched school and hopped a bus home, so I could unwrap and play with my presents early? And you returned the gifts and got me clothes or something?

Where am I going with this thought ...

 Anyway, I put the slicer to use immediately, really handy gadget--PLEASE DON'T TAKE IT AWAY FROM ME! Wahhhh! I won't do it again. There, enough sniveling.

Uh, sorry about not callin' on Xmas day. I been real busy, what wit workin' every day, and I got my dates mixed up, so on Christmas Day I thot it wuz Xmas Eve, and so the day which I thought was going to be Christmas turned out to be the day after. Well, I'm such a heel, I was too embarrassed to call then, so here I am.

I really have been busy -- for me. Three jobs in as many weeks, hundreds of multi-color stickers, posters and signs. So, I've made my rent electric, and bean bill again.

Kind of exciting, the not knowing. Sittin' around for weeks, wakin' up at the crack of 8:30, waitin' for that phone to ring, drinking coffee, watching TV and puttering. Then, PA-WASH! Suddenly, I am busy every day.

I just finished with everything, and now it's back to puttering and wishin' I was fishin'. I hate the cold. Steve called me from someplace near Ixtapa and said it's great, a gringo paradise. Maybe one day, I'll become as he and ride the warm air currents of life.

With my ambition, I'll never get rich ... or married ... or change the oil in my car. But Steve sounds like he's having fun. Livin' it up on granpa's money, the bum.

Hah, I ain't bitter. Look at all I got. I've learned a trade and am reaping the rewards of a business I did nothing to establish. Everything has just fallen into my lap. True, it's not the lap of luxury, but it's more than my sorry-ass deserves at this point.

No time for introspection now, though, it's technically a workin' day.

So, how's by you? Kids OK? No abnormalities or deviant behavior, I mean, any more than normal? And Greg?

Hope your Christmas was white or bright or whatever hue you wanted it to be. Mine was blue, but that's nothin' new. Even my cat didn't want to hang around with me on Christmas, man, that's blue. But not as bad as forgettin' what day it was, cause it ain't no different and it's just as cold inside as outside and your only friends are a TV set and an electric heater.

But I've stopped worrying about the landlord. I talked to him about the owner dropping in on me, and he said not to sweat it, they've been trying to sell the place for years. He didn't seem any more concerned about my staying here than before, so I guess I was just paranoid. Must be the Zoloft.

Hah. No. But for the first two days I got deathly ill-stomach nausea, night sweats and the I-think-I'm-going-to-die dry heaves. It could have been something I ate, or the flu. But I've scaled back to 50 mg every other day ‘cause it’s just too much of a buzz. I mean, I was up on the roof raking leaves at 8:00 AM. Now, tell me, is that normal??

Well, I gotta go. Happy New Year!

Love, Andrew