I just had a nice freaking out.
My laptops desktop screen has a slide show of photographs of myself, mostly head shots.
I have become accustomed to seeing one of the 10 or so photos of my face upon closing any and all windows and returning to the desktop.
Well, I had been watching an episode of Twin Peaks, and had paused the thing in the middle of the thing; probably so that I could jump in a bath that I had recently poured, before it cooled down.
I paused it just as they were in the middle of showing the face of a dead man, actually just an actor with gruesome makeup on his face and playing dead, but an actor who looks just enough like me so that, when I closed the Audacity program and there appeared the actor who looked just enough like me and was made up to look dead; I was freaked out for a second with part of my brain telling me that I must have returned to the desktop which shows a slideshow of me; and I have died in one of the photos.
I also thought for a split second that the mob was sending me a message; and wanted to be more high tech than putting the severed head of a horse on my pillow; so they chose to hack into my laptop and plant a picture of me, touched up in Photoshop so as to look dead, to warn me of something (stay off of the Quartermaster playing spot, perhaps).
It took me about 85 milliseconds to recognize the frame around the photo as the one which frames the media player; and to realize that I had not returned to the desktop which has the slide show of my faces; and another 20 milliseconds before I remembered that I had paused the Twin Peaks episode; right at the part where they were showing the face of the dead man that the protagonists were just discovering, right along with the home viewer; thinking that it was as good as any a spot to pause it, as it is the climax of the episode and, most assuredly, was immediately followed by a commercial break, returning from which would probably bring the viewer to a scene where the yellow tape is up and a forensic team is gingerly removing the body of the actor who looks enough like me to have freaked me out, who was playing dead.
In the background would be the squaking of police radios, and it would be at that point that the forensics team, as a stress reducer and an aid to coping with their jobs which bring them face to face with grizzliness, might make a joke.
You know, the dead guy has on a Celtics jersey and the first technician say's something like "What kind of sicko would do something like this; kill a guy with a phillips head screwdriver?!?"
And the second technician say's: "I don't know. Maybe he was a Lakers fan..."
Hillarity like that; then they cut to the next scene; probably the detectives standing around a map and poking a pin into the spot where screwdriver man was found.
The rest of the episode would be the dramatic unfolding, or the resolution (but not the complete resolution because there are more episodes to come) and I figured that, after unfolding in a hot bath, I would watch that.
It didn't cross my mind that it would freak me out when for a second I would think that one of the photos of myself had died; the mob had left me a high tech warning; and then but the scariest thought of all: I really look like that; and just hadn't looked at the photo really well.
Now, it is Tuesday and I haven't slept yet. I want to stay up drinking coffee and reading and writing and recording music, lately.
With me working on my 22nd day of sobriety, and not feeling destined to spend money on booze, I can afford to spend more time on those things; and by using my food stamp card to defray the cost, can stretch the 47 bucks that I made the last time I busked, for a few days of studio time.
I now go to see about messing with a recording a bit and then putting it on my flash drive so I can bring it to the computer room and try to upload it onto this blog.
I think it's about time for something recent.
You've just read: 763 words.
My laptops desktop screen has a slide show of photographs of myself, mostly head shots.
I have become accustomed to seeing one of the 10 or so photos of my face upon closing any and all windows and returning to the desktop.
Well, I had been watching an episode of Twin Peaks, and had paused the thing in the middle of the thing; probably so that I could jump in a bath that I had recently poured, before it cooled down.
I paused it just as they were in the middle of showing the face of a dead man, actually just an actor with gruesome makeup on his face and playing dead, but an actor who looks just enough like me so that, when I closed the Audacity program and there appeared the actor who looked just enough like me and was made up to look dead; I was freaked out for a second with part of my brain telling me that I must have returned to the desktop which shows a slideshow of me; and I have died in one of the photos.
I also thought for a split second that the mob was sending me a message; and wanted to be more high tech than putting the severed head of a horse on my pillow; so they chose to hack into my laptop and plant a picture of me, touched up in Photoshop so as to look dead, to warn me of something (stay off of the Quartermaster playing spot, perhaps).
It took me about 85 milliseconds to recognize the frame around the photo as the one which frames the media player; and to realize that I had not returned to the desktop which has the slide show of my faces; and another 20 milliseconds before I remembered that I had paused the Twin Peaks episode; right at the part where they were showing the face of the dead man that the protagonists were just discovering, right along with the home viewer; thinking that it was as good as any a spot to pause it, as it is the climax of the episode and, most assuredly, was immediately followed by a commercial break, returning from which would probably bring the viewer to a scene where the yellow tape is up and a forensic team is gingerly removing the body of the actor who looks enough like me to have freaked me out, who was playing dead.
In the background would be the squaking of police radios, and it would be at that point that the forensics team, as a stress reducer and an aid to coping with their jobs which bring them face to face with grizzliness, might make a joke.
You know, the dead guy has on a Celtics jersey and the first technician say's something like "What kind of sicko would do something like this; kill a guy with a phillips head screwdriver?!?"
And the second technician say's: "I don't know. Maybe he was a Lakers fan..."
Hillarity like that; then they cut to the next scene; probably the detectives standing around a map and poking a pin into the spot where screwdriver man was found.
The rest of the episode would be the dramatic unfolding, or the resolution (but not the complete resolution because there are more episodes to come) and I figured that, after unfolding in a hot bath, I would watch that.
It didn't cross my mind that it would freak me out when for a second I would think that one of the photos of myself had died; the mob had left me a high tech warning; and then but the scariest thought of all: I really look like that; and just hadn't looked at the photo really well.
Now, it is Tuesday and I haven't slept yet. I want to stay up drinking coffee and reading and writing and recording music, lately.
With me working on my 22nd day of sobriety, and not feeling destined to spend money on booze, I can afford to spend more time on those things; and by using my food stamp card to defray the cost, can stretch the 47 bucks that I made the last time I busked, for a few days of studio time.
I now go to see about messing with a recording a bit and then putting it on my flash drive so I can bring it to the computer room and try to upload it onto this blog.
I think it's about time for something recent.
You've just read: 763 words.
Take that damn art you just did and use it to make a CD label, stat.
ReplyDeleteThat is more badass than anything I could do.
If you remember, I offered to do some CD covers for you and had them sketches out, then retracted the offer because you sell your food stamps to buy dope.
I feel kinda bad about that now, since you're just another pathetic skeezer and pathetic skeezers sell their benefits for dope, that's what they do.
But I swear, you're doing some badass art on your own, you can put some letters for a title on that, and have a very decent CD label so go for it.... The more CDs, the more you can skeeze.
I'm not kidding about you being g just another skeezer but I'm also not kidding about the awesomeness of your art, there you are swimming in a sea of V-8 juice, buoyed up by the Gibson Explorer you're playing, while a green and highly alcoholic drink swims in parallel in the stream... I'd never come up with something that badass.
ReplyDelete