Missing Person
You know recently I've found myself pining for the good old days. Some of the happiest times I can remember were right before they opened up my head, inserted a piece of stainless steel, and made the vorpal blade go snicker-snack! That did it for most of my memory - but even as my body rotted on that cold steel table and the life ebbed out of me I was already swinging my leg over the saddle of a piece of gasoline powered crack. In a deep coma I rode forever on sunny highways with beautiful yet surreal scenery in an eclectic dance with the thrumming machine. OK - well back to the point - I really miss Brother Crash - my life is missing that spark he always put into
it. Maybe I'm just wallowing in self-pity and that maybe is more of a probably, but I never realized how much I would miss him when he left. You know it's actually fun to plan a day trip to Baton Rouge the long way and take 4 hours to cover 100 miles, or get woken up at 5am to ride to McDonald's for Bacon, Egg, and Cheese McGriddles - Just because they're tasty and because he just thought we needed to go for a ride. I remember thinking how much better I liked myself (at times) when he was around as he seemed to bring out a side fo me that was actually appealing. Of course I could be wrong about that, but then again I'm wrong about a lot of things. I keep hoping that maybe - Just maybe - he will eventually get away from his 7-9 office job and move home to teach at Tulane or UNO. Yes I said TEACH at a COLLEGE? I'm sure his classes are terribly interesting - with the class paying rapt attention as he lectures in chaps and a thong. - Oh that's a jpg I did not need. But I am finding myself wondering if the return of my other brother John from Denmark will culminate in his purcha
sing and revitalizing his own rat-like motley assemblage he will license as a motorcycle. But I'd settle for Brother Crash finding a house in Slidell and leaving the PRP (People's Republic of Pennsylvania). Especially, since when he comes down all he has to ride here is Deb's bike and he looks like a buffoon on it. I also want to see him back on a cruiser and putting "bitchpork" (his NightHawk 750) to the back of the garage. Oh well, I'm off to bed to try to think happy thoughts... It's like having a happy little puppy wanting to play all the time and yipping in such a way that you just can't refuse. It would be a bad thing if he wasn't a like a cheer grenade - Even my Krewe who won't allow anyone not completely straight let Crash in free and ask me to bring him because he makes the party fun. I think in a lot of ways he reminds me of the Cat in the Hat - and beware because he can quote Dr. Seuss better than his 5 year old niece...
it. Maybe I'm just wallowing in self-pity and that maybe is more of a probably, but I never realized how much I would miss him when he left. You know it's actually fun to plan a day trip to Baton Rouge the long way and take 4 hours to cover 100 miles, or get woken up at 5am to ride to McDonald's for Bacon, Egg, and Cheese McGriddles - Just because they're tasty and because he just thought we needed to go for a ride. I remember thinking how much better I liked myself (at times) when he was around as he seemed to bring out a side fo me that was actually appealing. Of course I could be wrong about that, but then again I'm wrong about a lot of things. I keep hoping that maybe - Just maybe - he will eventually get away from his 7-9 office job and move home to teach at Tulane or UNO. Yes I said TEACH at a COLLEGE? I'm sure his classes are terribly interesting - with the class paying rapt attention as he lectures in chaps and a thong. - Oh that's a jpg I did not need. But I am finding myself wondering if the return of my other brother John from Denmark will culminate in his purcha
sing and revitalizing his own rat-like motley assemblage he will license as a motorcycle. But I'd settle for Brother Crash finding a house in Slidell and leaving the PRP (People's Republic of Pennsylvania). Especially, since when he comes down all he has to ride here is Deb's bike and he looks like a buffoon on it. I also want to see him back on a cruiser and putting "bitchpork" (his NightHawk 750) to the back of the garage. Oh well, I'm off to bed to try to think happy thoughts... It's like having a happy little puppy wanting to play all the time and yipping in such a way that you just can't refuse. It would be a bad thing if he wasn't a like a cheer grenade - Even my Krewe who won't allow anyone not completely straight let Crash in free and ask me to bring him because he makes the party fun. I think in a lot of ways he reminds me of the Cat in the Hat - and beware because he can quote Dr. Seuss better than his 5 year old niece... Labels: Delusion, Denial, motorcycles, Wallowing in Self-Pity
posted by Colin D. Corcoran, Jr. @ 10:37 PM
1 Comments
1 Comments:
Don't be sad... of course I'll be back soon! And I think I look dashing on Deb's bike.
It's kind of retro-tarded if you will. But I'll ride anything with a kickstand.
Oh, I made a short Crash list of things for people should bring to Gettysburg.
Things NOT to FORGET:
Condoms which are equally handy for the hot swinger chicks as they are for making gigantic water balloons.
A good cowboy hat that says “Go ahead and mount up and just try to break me.”
Special brownies (I always find these there and get them for free, but if you aren’t a social butterfly and lack skills of seduction then you better make some to take along)
Flask of hard liquor so they’ll say “You know, we’ve only just met but I feel like I can tell you anything.”
Sunglasses that say, “Yeah, I’ll be your daddy”
Methinks New Orleans would rebuild faster if I were there more often partying my ass off.
Maybe if I get down to a low enough body fat I could be a stripper in the quarter? What do you think? Ummm Pow pow... utz utz utz... shake it!
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