GWAR AM I ?

A friend and I went to a GWAR concert last night in Portland Maine.
On the way, I some how passed the city and got lost. I do that every now and then. At least going to Portland, I do.
They should install a bright light there so it looks like a city or something. One mile out of the way, and you're in the woods again with no point of reference.
Having been thru this before, I jumped on the first exit available.
On previous trips to the dark city, I found the exits to be scarce when you need them, and taking an exit doesn't necessarily tell you where you are.
My sense of direction failed me, and not wanting to drive for half an hour in the wrong direction (again), I stopped at the first open business I saw. One lonely pizza shop on a dark neighborhood street.
I pulled my truck up to the front door and could plainly see an elderly woman, alone in the store, watching us walk in. In an effort to keep it polite and simple, I said, "I am lost, Which way is it to downtown Portland?" This woman looks at me and says,"Which way are you going?"In a split second, my quick wit supplied me with several sarcastic answers. Among them, "The WRONG" way, obviously!"Looking over my shoulder to the front door, then back at the nice lady gave me the time to quell any such comments and simply say, "Whichever way you tell me to go, dear."Pointing, she says, "Go that way till you come to a traffic light, turn left, and it will take you straight to downtown Portland."My buddy asks her if she has a bathroom.She says, "no." We say, "thanks."Two blocks after the left turn at the traffic light, we came to a "T" in the road and had to choose left or right."Straight to Portland, My Ass!"We decided that she probably DID have a bathroom!We chose left, and made it to the concert.The GWAR show defies description. It falls somewhere between "Kill Bill volume one", and "Dead Alive"(final scene).Non stop blood and multicolored bodily fluids pumped and sprayed at the audience full force, for an hour and a half.When the show was over, Every inch of our skin was wicked-witch green, with streaks of red and blotches of blue.Stopping for gas on the way home proved fun as well.(Remember, we're in Maine.)This time, it's was an elderly man, running the gas station alone in the middle of nowhere at 1:00 am. He has a curious stare as we walk in. I attempt humor with, "So, You get many colored folks around here?"No response.Oh, well.We had fun.In retrospect...It doesn't really matter where you are going. Getting there can be half of the fun.It's all good...on Planet Dandy!

Tijuana Taxi Ride

Crossing the border into Mexico is simple. Just walk thru the turnstile, and you're there.
Getting to Tijuana (T.J.) from the border, requires a taxi.
This is fun.
My first time, as with most things, was the most memorable.
December 1989.
There were five of us. Three of us shared an apartment in San Diego (I had just moved in, from Michigan) .The other two were down from L.A.
We walked thru the turnstile. "Yay, we're in Mexico", then, after wading thru the children selling Chicklets, we met our cabbies.
All of them holding their Cabbie I.D.'s up as they bid for our fares.
"How many of you?"
"Five of us."
"$4.00 each"
another one bids...
"$3.00 each"
We hesitate, then another driver bids "$2.00 each" and ushers us towards his taxi.
"Sweet, Tijuana for two bucks!"
We didn't even care that when we got to the taxi, it already had four people waiting in it, ha! That made ten people in the cab including the driver.
But then came the ride.
Forget that every one was on someone else's lap, and they were probably on someone else's lap as well. But, instead, think that this cab driver wants to get to T.J. and back as quickly as possible so he can fill his taxi (and wallet) with another nine or ten of Americas finest young partiers.
Just use your imagination on this next part.
Picture us, zig-zagging thru traffic at high speeds. Imagine our simultaneous screams. The kind of screams you hear from a roller coaster as it creeps over the summit and starts it's downward plummet towards a curve in the track.
"Whoooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashit!"
What a wild ride. Mr Toad had nothing on us!
We were dumped on some street corner in front of what I suspect was probably the drivers cousins cantina where we would meet his sister (a virgin). That is only my speculation, hehe, and we never met his sister. I don't think, anyway.
So...

If you ever hear some crazy story about a Tijuana Taxi?

Just believe it!
And, you know what else?

We never even told him where we wanted to go, but I'm pretty sure we got there.
Getting home after a night of cheap tequila shots and beer?

hmmm...
That was another adventure!

Send Post Cards & W-Tips to...

PLANET DANDY WORLD HEADQUARTERS
P.O.BOX 945
BELFAST, MAINE, 04915
U.S.A.

W-TIPS

I was trying to think of a profound revelation that I could share. Something to make you think . Or, at least make you believe that I can think.
Nothing.
I guess you can't rush something like that, and have it be real. So, let me tell you what happened to me last night. At least maybe you can think I'm cool.
About 10 years ago, on Mtv, there was this show called "Squirt TV". It was hosted by this funny, 15 year old kid named Jake. The show also featured Frankie, another kid, as a regular .
Every show had the coolest guests. Every one from Kevin Smith, to Beck , Liz Phair, and the Beastie Boys. (even Gilbert Godfried)
Anyway, I got a kick out of it!
On one show he showed off this box of W-Tips. "They are just like Q-Tips, except, they're W-Tips." I still laugh when I think about it, lately that's been a lot.
So I went on this mission to find me some W-Tips. Nothing, Nowhere. Not even on e-Bay.
I did some searching around the internet and I find some contact info for Jake, who is now 25.
So, I e-mailed him last night, (not knowing if it would ever get read). Briefly telling him of my quest for the Holy W-Tips.
And he answered me!
Now this guy, lives in New York City, is active in radio, television, theater, writing, and hob-nobs with all the coolest people on the planet, and on a Saturday night in New York City...Jake, e-mails ME!
On top of that he tells me he forwarded my letter to Frankie, as well.
I'm feeling pretty special about right now.
I mean, last year I met SLAYER.
Last month I met Alice Cooper
And last night?
An E-mail from Jake!!!
Well, the only thing that's left right now is to find them damned W-Tips.
Am I cool yet?

"...that stupid fucking guitar." (Kurt Cobain)

129 DAYS LATER

There were many days of my existence that could easily compete for the title of "The Best Day of My Life." Maybe , I will explore some of them at another time. For now, the day that comes to mind, is the day that I saw NIRVANA.

Not so much the actual seeing of NIRVANA, as the the events of that day. It was November 27, 1993. I was living in Key West, Florida. A perfectly beautiful day. The show was to take place in Miami and the friend I would travel with drove a topless Jeep. How cool is that! Now, to get to Miami, the only way by "land" is to take Route 1, also known as the longest dead end road in the America. It spans from Key west, to the Canadian border in Maine. But from Key West to the Florida mainland is about 100 miles of bridge known as the Overseas Highway. On this stretch of road is the Marathon Bridge. It was blown up in the movie "True Lies", staring Arnold Schwartzeneger and Jamie Lee Curtis. This big scene, featuring a harrier Jet, delivery trucks and explosions, was to be filmed on location on this very day. Now, this meant that anyone wanting to travel north to the mainland, would have to do it before 10 a.m., as the bridge would be closed for most of the day. Whatever, fine with me. I'm going to see NIRVANA .

We seen the Jet parked at the edge of Marathon Island, as well as cameras and trucks and military personnel. (think of me during the bridge scene if you ever see "True Lies", I was there.)

What a beautiful ride. Warm, sunny, the wind blowing thru my long hair, and not a care in the world. My favorite feeling is to not have to hurry or worry. Nothing but blue sky above me, and blue water as far as the eye can see in either direction. Bouncing from island to island like some cosmic connect the dots game. We listened to a lot of NIRVANA, and arriving in Miami so early in the day, we were able to explore record shops, an outdoor mall on the waterfront, and the Hard Rock Cafe. It has a giant green Gibson Stratocaster on the roof that slowly rotates. It could also be seen from the amphitheater next door where the show was to be held. Later during the concert, people would be throwing frizbees on the stage and Kurt Cobain would say, "Instead of throwing things up on stage, why don't you go next door and throw rocks at that stupid fucking guitar!"

They put on an awesome show that night, and did a fair amount of damage to the stage props and equipment, as would be expected from the best "grunge" band in the world. I bought one of every NIRVANA concert shirt that was available that night, and was especially happy I did when the ride home proved to be less than warm. In fact, it was down right cold. Living in Key West can spoil you. You forget that it gets cold in other places, like driving across the ocean at night. I still have the shirts, and the seven mile bridge is still there. It was a perfect day.

I totally worshiped NIRVANA at the time.( and probably still would, but I'm a little bit between deities at the moment.) If I could live any day over again, this would probably be the day that I would choose. It was NIRVANA in Paradise.

129 days later, Kurt was dead.

I, MONSTER

I was sitting here watching a horror movie a few nights ago. (You know the type. Where some lost travelers make a wrong turn, and the unseen local psycho gets them, one by one.) Then , I found myself looking over my shoulder a couple times in response to the surround sound on my entertainment system.
Now... I know... that there is no one behind me.
I live in the middle of the woods, on a mountain-top, at the end of a dead end road, and I can plainly see if anyone is even remotely near.
Still...
I jump at the heavy breathing of "I'm gonna get you."
hehe,
at this point I laugh to my self when I realize, hey, the middle of the woods? The end of a long dead end road? The middle of nowhere on a dark night?
If there IS anyone out there, THEY are the ones that should be scared!
...I ...am at home
... I... AM the MONSTER!
... "I ...am going to get ...YOU!"

Kiss My Aura, Dora

I wonder how big an aura is.

Wouldn't it be cool if we could see our auras, and they emanated one or two feet around our bodies. Maybe only in special light. Like a black light.

Imagine everyone's auras glowing at a party. An orgy of light.

What if the color of your aura reflected your mood, and when your aura overlapped with someone else's, they would join and become a pulsating rainbow.

Of course, your auras would need to be compatible or nothing would happen.

Now throw in a physical feeling, like an orgasm, when that compatible aura met yours. That would take safe sex to a whole new level.

O.K., this is silly.

But seriously, folks! Haven't you ever felt your whole body tingle and hum, just being near somebody?

Any... Body?

I have.

Hmmm...

It's Real Angora!

TERRITORIAL PISSINGS

As I look around my castle, I notice that many of my possessions are adorned with stickers.
I just realized that they are my territorial pissings.
Objects that I've always had, and always will have, are meticulously decorated with stickers (mostly of a rock n roll theme) and have been dubbed ...Rock n Roll Trunk, Rock n Roll Stools, Rock n Roll Blender, etc... They keep me safe.
Whenever I relocate, they are around me, and I know that I am at home.
My pissing is done tastefully, and I never waste a sticker on something like a stereo component, or doors and walls. Those things are temporary objects in my life. They will die or I will leave them, and a good sticker will be with me forever.
I like my stickers, they are memories.
I also save special stickers by putting them on magnets. Now I can have a Rock n Roll Refridgerator where ever I go.
They keep me safe. I will always treasure my stickers.
I will always be safe.
Safe in my castle.
My Rock n Roll Castle,
here,
on Planet Dandy.

ORANGES PORNGES

Well, I wasn't planning on starting a blog tonight, but one thing leads to another when surfing the high seas of the net, so I'm throwing this thing in the water to see how it floats. I really don't even know why I need a blog. Maybe it's like a diary. We will see. Stay tuned, and, Who says, "there ain't no rhyme for oranges!" Welcome to my Planet.