Tuesday, May 29, 2007

HAUNTED THINGS AND EX-FLINGS:
Of Scenester Exes, Interior Decorating, and Pissing in the Bathtub

NOTE -- This post may seem a bit out-of-sorts, but, heh, cut me some slack. I've got Mono. I'm kinda out-of-sorts, myself. And thanks, Steph, for calling me a hot librarian. Not feeling too hot, but, well, I'll be back, hotter than ever. Promise.

- JASON


"Here you are, with a handful of holes, a thumb up your ass, and a big grin to pass the time of day with. "


OXFORD, Ohio (ZP) -- There's nothing in the world like someone calling simply to say hi. I rarely get phone calls like that.

No, I get the I just had a nightmare about Sharky phone calls from exes at 4:30 in the morning.

The ex in question, for some reason, remembered Sharky, remembered the story behind it. In her dream, Sharky had come alive, transmuted into some evil demon, had slit my throat as I slept.

Er. Yeah.

There's a reason I'm no longer involved with this woman.

Her unhealthy obsession with death and demons turned out to be a little bit more intense than her skull tats and love of Joy Division had led me to believe.

After reassuring her that everything was okay here in Oxford Fucking Ohio, she hung up without so much as a goodbye. It's been four years.

I don't know how she got my phone number. Hers, of course, is now blocked. C'est la vie.

There are exes I still think about, and there are exes I wish I could forget.

* * * *

Sharky (right) is an heirloom, a knife that has been in my family for generations.

According to legend, the bayonet blade was used in combat during the First World War. It came into my family's possession shortly after being removed from some Prussian soldier's corpse.

In the 1940s, relatives of mine, somewhere out in the Great Basin badlands, commissioned a Native American craftsman to fashion a new, ornate handle. Where once there was nothing but military-issue wood, the old American Indian created a new handle out of pieces of glass and scrap metal salvaged from the desert.

The name Sharky appeared on the leather sheath sometime long before I was born; it's been known by that name ever since.

* * * *

Every woman I've ever been involved with seems to believe that the damned thing is somehow cursed. The fact that the blade has been a constant on my nightstand since I was a teenager, an ever-present fixture in my bedroom, probably doesn't help things much.

Makes for a great conversation piece.

And it goes well with the ever-present copy of Whitman's Leaves of Grass.

* * * *

There are times I think some of my personal effects cause more relationship problems than I do.

There's at least three decks of tarot cards floating around my living room, in plain sight, at any given time. There's the pseudo-Voudun saint candles (right) near the front door, the gris-gris hanging from the wall, and an ornate Ethiopian crucifix above the bed.

I've got a Seventeenth Century soapstone pipe fragment in my change jar, for chrissakes.

You know... the one next to the cassette copy of Ice-T's Original Gangster, beside the uncut pieces of turquoise, on top of the copy of The Book of Abramelin...

What bachelor pad would be complete without a Fifteenth Century grimoire, a colonial-era souvenir from an archaeological dig in Virginia, or a copy of one of the greatest rap albums of all time?

And who needs those silly posters of Playboy Playmates, anyway? I learned a long time ago that live, three-dimensional women make better playmates. Posters don't talk, think, or taste good.

Yup. Just a normal, single guy. With normal, single guy stuff.

Right?

Right???

* * * *

There are women who find this sort of decorating eccentricity attractive, at least at first. And then they realize that, well, it's not an act. I'm really a strange dude.

I've been involved with women who, for some reason, felt the need, early on, to compare my lifestyle to that of guys like Hunter S. Thompson, even Jack friggin' Nicholson. Those are the nice comparisons.

In the end, illusions of who I am, their image of me, often fall well short of the reality. While I may fit a particular lifestyle, as an eccentric lover, women who are attracted to me simply because of that soon realize that, well, I'm just being myself. And that's a scary thing for lifestyle-conscious women.

I could give a flying fuck about what parents might think about a guitar amp three feet from the bed, how embarrassing it could be to some folks that I read comic books in the john. Yes, I recycle pickle jars into drinking glasses and, no, I don't care what so-and-so said about it in her magazine column.

And I really don't give a shit if the seat's up or down; if you're a woman and you're using my john, I'm stepping over you and pissing in my goddamned bathtub.

The only image I have has been created by others. And I don't play that game. Not my bag.

There's a reason I've sworn off Scenester Women. I just don't do trendy. I do not change with whatever scene may be popular, or counterculture, or indie. I just live my life how I want to live it. And I own some very weird things because, well, I just naturally a weird guy, from a long line of weird people.

If you want to date Dr. Gonzo, well, go ahead. Feel free to fuck his ashes.

* * * *

After the phone call, I couldn't sleep.

Pfft. Crazy goth chicks. Nowhere near as worthless as Emo Girls, but almost as creepy as Born-Again Virgins.

I reached over the nightstand, flipped on the lamp. There, beside the piles of books, sat ol' Sharky. I picked up the knife, withdrew the nightmare-inspiring blade from its sheath.

And I laughed.

Jesus Christ. It's just a knife.

I don't even believe the Dead Prussian story my great - grandmother used to tell. Makes for great pillow-talk, but Grammy also claimed The Rougarou would come get me if I were a bad little boy. I didn't believe that, either.

And who the hell calls an ex at 4:30 in the morning? After four fucking years? Last I heard, she was married with a kid, living out in Oregon...

Now that's fucking creepy.

I wonder how many other exes still have nightmares about this damned thing?

- # # # -

19 comments:

Cat. said...

Dear God, you're even weirder when you're sick!! You totally aren't Hunter Thompson. Someone wakes me up at 4:30 a.m. when I'm sick, and I'll show you Hunter Thompson....

You haven't been working? Good. Go back to sleep. Let the gris-gris do its work, and Sharky can keep the freakoids out, too.

coyotemike said...

You think you're weird? I've got a turtle shell/coyote pelt medicine bag on one wall, a pair of kokopeli on another, an Irish Whiskey taster certificate across from my diplomas and a metal skull with a foam brain stress reliever inside.

Woeful said...

Woeful's Odds & Ends:

A sculpture of a chimp sitting on a stack of books. The chimp holds a human skull looking at it as if pondering it's meaning.

The Aquarian Traot Deck.

My grandfather's half yard glass.

The Sandlewood box that I used to hide my stash back in the day.

A jade dragon.

My bass.

Leigh said...

Funny, I have a similar knife within my family... my dad has it right now, I am sure to inherit it. Yeah, those exes... *sigh*

EsotericWombat said...

I know you're not talking about me, but I still feel the need to clarify that any comparison I've made between you and the Good Doctor speaks to the "live to the fullest, speak the truth, and the fuck what anyone else thinks" attitude.

And dude, why do you need to get the ladies' hopes up? If anyone goes looking around the hills of Woody Creek looking for remains that were infused with gunpowder and detonated hundreds of feet up in the air to gather into some dildo-canister, it's on you =P

The ZenFo Pro said...

Cat:
Lol, yup. Actually, this is quite normal.

In and out of work. I'm training a new staff, and, well there are just too many projects. But no lifting, no overexcurison and I'm to go home if I'm feverish or tired.

Mike:
Ooh. I'm jealous. Want the skull/stress reliever. Sounds cool as shit.

Woeful:
Lol, this is turning into a goth-sounding comment feed. Two comments, back-to-back, dealing with human skulls :)

Lol. I've got a Washburn Lyon floating around my parents' garage...

Leigh:
Well, hey, surfer goddess!

Exes, well, are exes for a reason. It just takes reminders every now and then. Esp. the psycho ones. It's so funny...the blog has actually helped keep psycho women out of my life, strangely enough...

Wombat:
No, see, you can make comments like that. You're just being yourself, as was Hunter. Nothing wrong with marching to your own drum.

What gets me is the number of people who will latch on to counterculture elements like they were godsent saviors, people who turn to others to define their individuality.

Dildo-cannisters! LMAO! Dude, we could make a killing selling authentic Woody Creek Gonzo-Ash Woodies!

Steph said...

Well, our possessions do say a lot about us. You're clearly, very eclectic, and a little eccentric. Nothing wrong with that!

Jay said...

I think that keeping weapons near the bed is bad karma, somehow.

xboxgirl said...

Cute zenfo + sexy + hot librarian - mono = hotter then ever (yeah, duh!)

My favorite knife is sitting out of sight in a drawer by my bed because I broke the tip off throwing it around (it wasn't really made for throwing, I'll have to fix it at some point).

Your interior decor is fine, its not weird (I could probably be considered weird with all the stuff I own because it is quite varied), but do you actually use the saint candles and tarot cards for anything?

The ZenFo Pro said...

Steph:
Lol, very true. Given the fact that I've spent way too much time alone in my apartment this past month, I've really come to appreciate that.

I dunno. It's annoying as hell either way to get a phonecall in the middle of the night telling me how weird my shit is, though.

Jay:
Lol, hey, at least I don't keep my guns in the nightstand :) Used to really creep people out.

And it is a very big knife. But, well, ya'd think women with a history of being "cutters" wouldn't freak out about it after four years... ;)

Xbox:
Lord, I have more knives in my apartment that furniture. A couple of broken ones, and I have no idea where my step-grandfather's throwing hatchets/knives are.

I do read tarot, mostly for other people. I'm told I'm quite good. Learned divination from my great-grandmother, who used to read my tea leaves when I was a young'un. The Saint candles fetish I inherited from an ex. I just love the scent of the rose-fragranced Virgen de Guadalupe candles, really.

But I do know how to use them. Can't hurt.

Miz BoheMia said...

Well, with oh so many horror stories of exes I have had the, um, good fortune (?), to encounter, I can honestly say I am oh so glad to not have any exes to think of...

And what does it say about me that I find it normal to piss in the tub if the john is occupied? Yep, living in a one bedroom back home in SF with the Loverboy, who was taking his sweet damn time on the toilet, had me resort to the new tradition of using the tub... it's when you have to do more than pee when you're in trouble! ;-P Nope, I am not easily grossed out by talk of bodily functions either I'm afraid!

As for your decor? Well, at 19 it was common to find books on past life regression, white witchcraft, how to channel spirits, animal rights, fairy tales, and whatnot on my bookshelf... and the fam now knows that I go to the bathroom to "relax" and my laptop goes with me...

And now at 32? Well, I do own a pendulum for heebee jeebee reasons and a bunch of other weird things I don't really remember seeing how they have been packed for a damn long time dammit!

All this to say, you are my kinda normal amigo mio!

And feel better soon! 'Tis a bitch and then some to be feeling icky! Besos...

The ZenFo Pro said...

MizzyB:
Ah, thanks a bunch, chica! I'm actually starting to feel better, though the damned swollen lymph nodes in my jaw are getting annoying...

I really don't want any more exes. Lol, I'd rather just be single.

Yeah, why would anybody care about peeing in the tub?!? People do it when they're in the shower all the time. A sewer drain's a drain.

See... that's why I just love ya to death, chica. Completely normal. By west coast standards, we're quite tame.

Bible Belt or rest of the world? Lol, not so much.

xboxgirl said...

Hey I live by the west coast, oh wait I do think your quite tame.

And I betcha I own more knives than you do.

jacob said...

Good write evenwhen sick.

Good read too.

Fell better man.

The ZenFo Pro said...

Xbox:
Lol. Yup.

Only about 15 or so. Never counted :)

Jacob:
Hey, thanks dude.

Lol, only took me, lord, like three days to go through the damned thing...

;)

xboxgirl said...

Ha! I thought so, I have about 30something knives (I've made 8 of the nice ones myself).

cooper said...

I posted a comment here a couple of days ago and it is gone. I am rather disturbed because it was a good comment. I can't remember it of course but i know it was good. ;0

My fading energies do not allow for this.

The ZenFo Pro said...

Xbox:
Lol.

Coop:
Blogger has been a real bitch lately for non-Blogger commenting.

Lol, well, at least I know its not my fault. For about a week, any time somebody'd complain about being tired, I'd get dirty looks ;)

max said...

That is very funny. Are you always that surly? Or is it being woken up at 4:30 am when you are sick by an ex you would just as soon call block?

I will never visit your bedroom but that is a very fun post.