George Jones Medley

George Jones Live at Wembley Arena 1986

George Jones: Sinners & Saints (1999)

George Jones: The Real Deal (1999)

Billie Eilish: Bad Guy

Scummy wunna Grammy.

Earliest cockroach ever!!!

Austin has been having the mildest winter that I can remember (since moving here in 1983). And I just had the earliest cockroach in an apartment EVER! Usually, they don't start showing up until late April or so. But this year: January 30. In my bedroom closet. (A couple of weeks ago while on the university campus, I also saw the earliest cockroach in a public building I'd ever seen.)

George Jones: A Day in the Life of a Fool (1971)

George Jones: Sometimes You Just Can't Win (1971)

Just when the sunshine's the brightest
And the world looks alright again
Then the clouds fill the skies
You can't believe your eyes
Sometimes you just can't win.

My love never meant much to you dear
For to you I was always a friend
Oh, why did I call,
You have no heart at all
Sometimes you just can't win.

I can't live like this any longer
Not knowing just where I stand
I know I shouldn't care
But sweetheart, it don't seem fair
Sometimes you just can't win.

Depressing Monday: I missed the Census employment calls...

Weeks ago, I'd submitted an application to work for the US Census. Two people called me back: At 5:47pm on Friday and at 10:27am on Saturday. Both said the messages were "time sensitive." I didn't get the Friday or Saturday messages on time, but called back on Monday, around noon. The employee that I talked to told me that the job had already been filled, and I asked to be put back in the pool. She said "OK." Later in the afternoon, I got an e-mail from the Census Bureau re my status: "Ineligible -- You have refused a position and any future positions with the Census Bureau."

(1) I didn't "refuse a position" --- just called back too late to get a position. And (2) I certainly didn't "refuse any future positions." Geez. I had to call in to the main Census Bureau number and talk to someone re changing my status. She'll get back to me.

Later in the day, I went in to an Austin employment agency. Couple of black and Hispanic guys sitting there filling out applications for warehouse work. My agency worker was nice enough, but asked me to lower my requested $16 per hour... I can't, I said, because I won't be able to make my rent in March... (Plus, I have a Master's degree. Sigh.)

I've got a $30K savings account that my mom turned over to me a couple of years ago. I'd hate to cash that out now, but I might have to.

Paris for Your Birthday

Message from "Madison Michele" (I don't know who this is) on my dad's Facebook page:

Papa is 80!!!! Thank the Lord for his long life. Papa joked around and said he wanted to go to Paris for his birthday 🙂 hehe

My dad has lived in Texas for most of his life, except for his time in Germany, where he met my mother in the early '60s. She had spent a year in Paris as an au-pair girl.

My e-mail message to my mother tonight: Take the man to Paris, Mom! :)

Happy Birthday, Daddy

My father turned 80 on Friday. I'm not in touch with him, but... what an accomplishment, turning 80! Happy Birthday, Daddy.

Clockwise from top left: Newby Cinco, Mama Hennessy, Solomon, Sasha-Su, and my boy Pete

While in the midst of four cats, and then five, I first consoled myself with: Well, I have four rooms. One cat can hang out in the kitchen, one in the living room, one in the bedroom, one in the library...

As I have since learned, "solitary cats" is a myth. They like hanging out together. And they like hanging out with me. If I'm on the computer (the area behind the couch, pictured here), they'll all settle on the top of the couch cushions facing in my direction. If I nap on the couch, they'll all lie either on top of the couch cushions or on the couch with me. If I go to sleep in the bedroom, they'll all either lie on the bed with me or at the foot/sides of the bed.

Contrary to popular belief, cats--even once-feral cats like Hennessy and Cinco--like being part of a gang.

George Jones: I'm a Long Gone Daddy (1987)

George Jones: Hopelessly Yours (1986)

George Jones: Moments of Brilliance (1987)

I wasn't the smart one in class
And I wasn't the one who ran fast
I begin things then I don't follow through
But I have moments of brilliance with you

There are times when I'm flawless, perfection itself
There are times when I'm even amazed at myself

I'll admit it my talents are few
But I have moments of brilliance with you

I can't draw a line that looks straight
I live life a half hour late
As a lover, I'm average, it's true
But I have moments of brilliance with you

There are times when I'm flawless, perfection itself
There are times when I'm even amazed at myself

I'll admit it my talents are few
But I have moments of brilliance with you

George Jones & Tammy Wynette: One (1995)

Gotye: Somebody That I Used to Know

Tammy Wynette & George Jones: Someone I Used To Know (1971)

Midnight Special 1973: George Jones & Tammy Wynette

Growing old cool

After the fat, self-righteous slugs at my last temp job, was heartened by the 70-something receptionist at my hair salon today: She was thin, her hair looked great (I asked my hairdresser to use her bob for an example when she cut my hair), she had on fashionable clothes, she was from Scotland, she was humble yet acerbic... my role model for growing old.

Middle-Aged Side Note to Temping (below)

RE the bossy middle-aged woman mentioned in the below post:

She was actually nice on the last day of the gig (Friday), telling us about her life, asking us about ours. Much more relaxed all the way around. She was now "finished with her career," her husband traveled, her kids were grown; she did various part-time gigs around town, including giving tours at the Capitol building. The Millennial asked her, "What are your kids like?" which I thought was odd but still a charming, naive question. The first words out of her mouth were that her daughter is "obstinate." And 6-ft tall. Likes volleyball. Just recently graduated, now working for a state agency in Communications. Her son, a "great guy," is still in college and likes to restore vintage cars.

(Me, my mom blatantly likes my brother better. My just-quit boss was always bragging at work about her loser son and trying to be nice re her daughter. Kind of bored with these women who like their sons more.)

This woman also has the nice home in the Austin hills. And she has an adopted cat (found after being shot by a BB gun) that her husband had built an upstairs fenced-in balcony for, so it would be safe but also have a sense of freedom.

After speaking about her kids, she asked me: "Do YOU have any kids?"

"No, but I do now have FIVE cats!"

"I thought that you might have some fur-babies."

God! Why would you think that? Do I look like a lesbian Cat Lady? I just got them this past April! It was an accident!

Temping Gig

After my temping gig of the past month, I'm reminded of Sylvia Plath's account in "Bell Jar" (taken from real life) in which she'd failed an honors science course and had to re-take the credit as a "regular" science course---only to find out that the course for "regular" students was actually a lot tougher and required more work.

I was not born privileged but, with my last job of the past 5 years, I'd worked my way up to a $50K per year job of privilege: Basically, I was paid well not for grunt work but for THINKING. Organization and logic. Which I'm well qualified for.

I still do not regret quitting that job in October; my boss was decidedly NOT a thinker, nor organized, nor logical. I could no longer be around that crazy.

But doing temp work again reminded me of what was so horrible about THAT: Not just the two bosses but also the temp co-workers.

The bosses: The main boss, a woman, tried to pretend she wasn't uptight, but she was extremely uptight. No talking, no water bottles on the tables, don't leave your pencils on your table at the end of the day, wipe down your work area at the end of the day. Her anality transferred to her underling boss. He was a nice guy on days when she wasn't there (bringing in candy, playing music), but he also warned us on those days: "Don't ask for help lifting boxes because X. wouldn't like it"; "Don't pick up your own assignment sheets because X. wouldn't like it." (As it turned out, said X. didn't mind if we asked for help with boxes or picked up our own assignment sheets; but she'd terrorized the poor underling so much that he was afraid to make any simple decisions on his own.)

The temp co-workers: I was the only professional person there at the end. (The one other professional, a 30-something librarian by profession, was there at the beginning but didn't come back after Christmas break because he'd found a library job.) The others, some of whom I've mentioned in previous posts: The lazy left-wing dyke who bragged about how smart she was (she spoke five languages) but only lasted a couple of days. The 50-something black woman (very nice) who worked only at seasonal jobs like the post office, IRS, etc., and didn't come back after Christmas break. A 40-something Hispanic guy who claimed to be working on a novel, and who claimed to have "three gigs." (Turned out the "gigs" were: This one, Saturdays at a golf course, and occasional catering.) This guy's shoulder bothered him, so he was out almost every other day. The Hispanic 30-ish daughter of a university retiree whom I bonded with re our violent past family lives, but who had barely held any other jobs before this and who barely did any work here, spending most of her time looking at her phone. A December 2019 college grad who had her phone sitting next to her the whole time and who spent 75% of her time either texting or staring off into space (wish the anal boss had called her on this slackerdom).

Oh, and halfway through, they brought in a lady in her late 50s who wasn't supposed to be our boss but who started bossing us around because she'd worked on such projects before. I was fine with her telling the two Millennials on their phones what to do, but I balked when she started trying to boss ME around! (For instance, the actual #2 guy boss at one point put me in charge of loading up carts to move boxes to the next room, and assigned this woman to another task --- but she immediately jumped up and started telling me how to load the carts! I had to, uncomfortably, tell her that the guy had put ME in charge, etc.) This woman was now retired and just did these temp jobs as a hobby of sorts, and she had an annoyingly self-righteous attitude (like I said: Apply that attitude to the Millennials who might need your guidance, but I certainly don't).

Sigh. So you see, there was a lot going on. I, like Plath, just wanted to be let alone to do my thing.

As a final note, I looked up my two bosses' salaries on the state site: The anal main boss = $43K per year; her subordinate = $26.9K. I don't mind doing grunt work, but... don't condescend to me while I'm doing it, especially if you're only earning what I made 20 years ago.

Pocahantas

Glad that Warren was caught on live feed. The phony. (Steyer, please.)

Fellow Temp

Walking to the elevator with a fellow temp employee, I asked her what she was having for lunch. We then started talking about where we both lived. She, with her mother. And, as it turned out, they had a restraining order out on the now-divorced father of the family.

The mother and father divorced 2 years ago. The mother is retired, the father still works for the state. The father happens to be hooked on meth. Since the divorce, the father has been driving by the house, showing up at family funerals, etc. The police have been called. There's a restraining order out on him.

I've never before talked to anyone who had the same experience as me. After my parents divorced when I was 12, my father kept driving by the house. One time falling asleep drunk in the driveway, one time knocking on the back door, etc. Calling to threaten suicide. An ongoing frightening emotional assault.

I'd never talked to anyone about it until today in the hallway.

One thing we both shared: The day our mothers told us they were divorcing our abusive fathers, we were happy --- despite the cultural propaganda promoting having a man in the family. Divorce was supposed to be upsetting to the kids... Not in our cases. In our cases, the removal of the addicted, abusive father was a blessing.

Dem Debate

Watched the Dem debate tonight on CNN 'cause I'm a political junky. (Otherwise, CNN hasn't been honest/watchable since 2016.) Apparently, the Dems think that "voter suppression" is an issue that's going to win the election in 2020. p.s. It's not. p.s.s. The girl "moderator" (in heavy quotes) from the Des Moines Register was ridiculous --- back in the '80s, Zappa astutely made fun of "Valley Girl speak"; today, CNN lets dummies like Brianne Pfannenstiel moderate. p.s.s. In 2016, my brother bet me $100 that Trump would lose. Anyone want that same bet in 2020? The Democrats have NOTHING.

Let's see how this works out...

A random, mediocre "artist" meets a royal and convinces him that his key to salvation and freedom is living in America. The man is never heard from again.

Bite Me

At the supermarket today, a young woman was shopping with her husband and their young baby. I first encountered them on an unknown aisle, where the woman had parked her cart in the center of the aisle. I came up behind them, didn't say anything, waited until they'd moved their cart. Aisle 2: Apparently we were on the same shopping path: Again, her cart was stopped in the center of the aisle. I came up behind them again, didn't say anything, waited until they'd moved their cart. Aisle 3: Again, the woman's cart was right in the middle of the aisle. Again, I didn't say anything, just pulled up behind her patiently and waited, as usual. This time, though, she said these exact words to me: "'Excuse me' are two words that are appreciated!"

Seriously: "Two words that are appreciated"??

Me back to her: "MY two words are BITE ME."

And then I felt awful! I was honestly just waiting behind their cart each time, not aggressively waiting, but by the third aisle she'd recognized me and decided to say something... in a passive/aggressive way.

But then I said BITE ME. I'm crude and terrible (heh-heh-heh).

Credentials

Interesting, at a temp job, how fellow temps try to establish their "credentials" though we're all doing the same basic drudge work. One 40-something guy, for instance, is "writing a novel" between temp and waiting gigs. He takes frequent breaks because the turning of pages bothers his shoulder. Oh, and his 7-year-old son is brilliant. One 50-something heavyset lesbian speaks multiple languages and plans on moving to Finland because their government leadership is all-female. She's also late every day to work.

Reminds me of when I used to work at the campus library back in the '80s/'90s. Most of my fellow employees were well-educated but lazy and dull --- and had high opinions of themselves not based on any actual accomplishments. Despite the recent tech influx, in many ways, Austin slackers have not changed one bit.

Campus Oaks

Walking to my temp job every day for the past few weeks, I pass these beautiful oak trees on the UT campus, which stand before the buildings where I used to attend most of my English classes, and border the lawn and benches where I used to loaf and write and think and yearn and mourn. I used to think how big and mighty they were back in the '80s when I first moved among them... And now they're 35 years older and bigger (as am I, but I've certainly not gained their additional grandeur).

Sassy Old Man

After lunch today, was strolling around campus killing time. As I walked past the Ellsworth Kelly-designed building outside the Blanton Museum, a very old, very tiny man stopped me: "Is this where Ellsworth Kelly kept his dead gay lover?" Me: "I've never been in there, but...if there's a dead guy in there, I need to go see it!"

(p.s. Don't get nervous. The deceased Kelly's former mate Jack Shear isn't entombed there. He's still alive and directs the Kelly foundation.)

Ricky Gervais' Monologue - 2020 Golden Globes

Shut up and accept your award.

Shot in the Heart

If ever you're feeling sorry for yourself, read this family recollection by Mikal Gilmore. There is nothing heavier or more haunted or terrible. In its horror, it might bring you peace in that you didn't have to live through any of this.

Bus reading

Nowadays, it takes a bus-ride to work to get me to read "lit'rature." In my own living room, I usually turn on the TV or go online. While working a temp job on campus, though, after 2 weeks of staring blankly out bus windows, I finally chose a book to accompany me: The Library of America Nathanael West collection.

I'd read "Miss Lonelyhearts" and "The Day of the Locust" before, but this time I was starting from the very beginning of the collection: "The Dream Life of Balso Snell."

It shook my brain up in ways that I'm too lethargic to go into here now. In a good way. Five-thousand things going on.

One minor thing it made me remember was a description that I'd read and carried around with me for the past couple of decades: "yellow and shrivelled as the armpit of an aging actress."

While reading "The Dream Life" on the bus today, I came upon this: "The hot sun of Calvary burnt the flesh beneath Christ's upturned arm, making the petal-like skin shrivel until it looked like the much-shaven armpit of an old actress."

This had to be source of the quote, I guess. Where else would another reference to an aging actress's armpit, of all things, come from? Yet, I think I must have read the "yellow" and "shrivelled" part somewhere else.

Another longstanding literary image that I have never been able to find again: A kid is digging around in a closet and finds a gun (I think a BB gun). He accidentally shoots himself in the head with it. Afterwards, he doesn't tell anyone what's happened, but at some point after that: He sticks a pencil in the hole in his head in order to feel the sensations... I THINK this came from a Stephen King story, but I don't know...

Suleimani dead

Iranian general Suleimani was an Iranian. Yet... he was killed in Iraq. What was he doing there? Disgusting terrorists, and good for Trump for calling them out.

George Jones: Stand On My Own Two Knees (1976)

George Jones - Our Private Life (1974)

Co-written by George and Tammy while they were married. Pretty clunky lyrics---while describing Jones's lifestyle, this sounds like Tammy wrote the words (the '70s lingo "all uptight" and a girl being "stacked" don't sound like Jones, nor does the sense of condescending irritation at "giving it up for people just like you" -- in his songs, Jones is rarely condescending or dismissive of his lifestyle). Neither star was great at writing a bridge, so I don't know who's responsible for the plodding "melody." But, nonetheless, interesting because a direct insight into their feelings at the time.

Well you just picked up the latest issue
Hot out of Nashville
And you can't wait to read the latest news
All about the big stars and their reckless way of living
Who got drunk last week and who got sued
No, you can't wait to read about someone not showing up
For Shindig number two in ole Saint Lou

And you're all excited, all up-tight about our private life
We gave it up for people just like you

Now you're reading now how so-and-so
Just left his wife and children
And you can't understand why he up and packed
And on the next page you see where he's working in Milwaukee
And the girl that joined his group is really stacked
Now right away you know just why the whole thing happened
And you're on your way to spread the latest news

Well that's one more reason why
We don't have a bit of private life
'Cause we gave it up for people just like you

But we're always glad you want to read about us
And the things you read may make you want to cuss
But we don't mind at all about you knowing what we do
'Cause we gladly gave up privacy for you

Now you turn the page and read about a club down in Atlanta
Where your favorite singer played and drank last night
Everybody there was really doing some heavy drinking
But your idol, he should have never got that tight
Oh he should have been the only one there sober
After all, he only worked from 9 to 2
Have you ever stopped to think
That he's only a human too
And he came down there to pick for you (little darlin')
Came down there to be and see, raise Cane, and to keep on singing for you

Whataburger Shocker!

Today I went to the Whataburger drive-thru and ordered a regular burger, small fries, and small onion rings (actually "medium" rings since they don't have small). No drink, since I have Cokes at home. The total was announced as over $9!! Luckily, there was no one behind me, so I was able to back the hell out of the line and drive away. I refuse to pay $9-something for a simple fast-food meal! It's a shame, 'cause Whataburger has really good burgers... But never again.

Eye of the Beholder (part II)

I've been re-reading Mailer's "Executioner's Song" and am again struck by how the main real-life characters (Gary Gilmore and Nicole Barrett) are described as incredibly seductive and good-looking. As with the very plain Tony Cox and Virginia Woolf (see my December 4 entry) much touted by intellectuals as being sexy, Gilmore and Barrett seem to be the lower-class equivalent: lauded in literature but, in actuality, not so hot.

Concerts

An old co-worker of mine just posted something about his concert-going history (best/worst/loudest, etc.). Fun to reminisce (and interesting to me to recollect all of the many psychological memories surrounding each---many, many more than appear below).


First ATTEMPTED concert: Bay City Rollers at the Tarrant Co. Convention Center (Ft. Worth) in 1978 (mom bought tickets, but show cancelled due to lack of sales)
First actual concert: Shaun Cassidy (openers: Virgin) 1978 (Tarrant Co. Convention Center). My mom attended with me and my best friend.
First "groupie-wannabe" concert: The Knack 1980 (SMU's McFarland Auditorium, Dallas). Friend's mom dropped us off by ourselves. Got backstage by kissing a roadie and letting him grab my butt; kissed guitarist (Averre) and bassist (Niles) backstage; met Sharona herself. (Later saw the band in Austin at the Backroom, late '80s, where I flirted with drummer Bruce Gary at the bar.)
Worst concert: Prince at Austin's Erwin Center 1984. Seats against the back wall. Could barely see anything; got no vibe whatsoever.
Most mildly depressing concerts: Julian Lennon at Stubbs BBQ in Austin, late '90s (completely bored, sparse crowd); Bay City Rollers (with no original member but Ian) at small bar in New Jersey, 2011.
Best concert: George Jones at Stubbs BBQ in Austin 1999. (Darrell Royal in audience.)
Last concert: Cat Power at Austin City Limits theater 2013.
Best concerts: Local Austin band Two Hoots and a Holler at Black Cat Lounge and Hole in the Wall, late '80s and '90s.