Beadsman needed
We don't pay, except in providing cheap living quarters.
Also, prayers must be written for the Magistral Grand Prior's prior approval. (C.B. might object, for instance, if our beadsman prays for the return of Brother Hans).
A Chef Mondial, so to speak, is needed as well, since I'm eating again.
Ah, these recent frequent vacancies are spoiling me, since I live in the largest room --- so grand my rent will double without a bunkie.
So, the brethren are faced with all these issues again, when it's time to interview all the up-and-coming, hopefully recovering junkies and rummies.
And they---the brethren--- remain very wary of my influence during our decision-making meetings. They are certain, almost to a man, that my motives are corrupt. Specifically, that I like to vote in men who will relapse, so I can have my f'ing room back. Or, more generally, they are just very suspicious...well, of my inscrutability.
Why does he keep that room? Why why why? And he never says what you'd expect him to say. It's like he'll pretend he wants what he doesn't want, to trick us into voting against our own interests.
I think they are going to kick me out of this suite, eventually. It's the best room, but it's the low end of the totem room too. That's confusing them to the point they're going to do something rash, I worry.
I still am up front and honest about this: I want an old man in the house! Awright? A stubborn, grouchy old man who frequently yells "I've had it up to HERE with youse guys!" and threatens to kick people "in the pants".
This man.
But no one believes that. Or, when they do believe it, they're against it because they still think it's a trick of some kind. And, never minding all that, they simply like to see me get mad when I don't get my way. But what is my way? I bet you I don't even know.
I want a man here who was already an adult before the gdam 1960's. I want a man who cleared forest and built a railroad bridge. I want a Merchant Marine with a "Mom" tattoo. Someone who has won and lost many fortunes, and expects anyday to make another.
Natch, I'll point out that it will be best if he's half deaf. And other qualities will come to my mind before Sunday.
You may object that I seem to be acting like the play directer, just like the "Big Book" says you shouldn't anymore.
Absolutely right. I'll have to pray. In secret. And then we'll just see.
posted by Jackson @ 10:44 PM
6 Comments:
Was Uncle Charlie too old to be a part of the Greatest Generation? Our daddies were part of it...you could tell, couldn't you? There just seemed to be a little more...respect? Give me an old guy any day...hearing aid optional but pork pie hat mandatory.
I could eat a pork pie hat. Without even losing a bet, I'm so hungry.
The problem is there are two types of old men left, it seems. The first dresses in black leather or bright Kesey Orange, wears a stocking cap, and sports a long yellow beard. I'm talking about the Harley old man, of course. They can be wise, interesting, and funny but unfortunately will have nothing to do with me because I can't resist trying to piss them off, to see it they will actually rough me up.
Accidently brush up against them and they'll say, Hey! Listen! I got a problem, being touched Ok?
The second type here, in their 70's and 80's, wear sweaters and jeans and tennis shoes. Very comfortable looking clothes. They live in cotton and their wives are invariably social workers.
You guessed it already: the old half retired English Professor who has stopped drinking at last. I almost chose one as a sponsor but he made a mistake when he asked me if I knew a certain Allman bros. song.
Fuck. I'm learning to face it. Hugh Beaumont is dead. Walter Mathau. Dammit. I'd even like having Tony Randall around. But no.
see this whole thing is harshing my mellow and fuckin' with my serenity.
Geeze John, Have you forgotten that old men smell funny and talk about their PSA endlessly?
PSA? Is that Public, NYSE:PSA ?
Or their Prostate-Specific Antigen levels?
I don't care. I'll regard an old man as a pioneer into old age, kind of like a canary in a coal mine.
That funny smell? It's just funny to you. Barber shop. Probably Wildroot Cream Oil in his hair.
I smoke, so I can't smell anyway...
but thanks for the warnings!
I fear that most of these men, like dear old dad are long gone or wishing they were. You might be able to find one if you look hard enough but why make them but up with a bunch of "young punks" as dad would have called anyone under 50. I do adore the type though, someone who can tell you long drawn out and detailed stories about how they cleaned up after Normandy in great details. oh dang, now you got me all sad missing dear old dad : (
:-(
I know.
Another thing is, maybe an old man would get some new life here. Even just being ornery. He'd know we appreciated him, even if we didn't say.
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