I had a dream. It was about (of all things) air travel. It seems I was on some kind of multi-legged airplane journey and I was in an airport, sleeping on the floor. I was dressed in a simple jogging outfit with socks or slippers on. There was some kind of scan going on and I was saying that I had nothing metal on me at all. That I barely had any iron in my system at that point.
I managed to drag myself over to a seat. One of the agents came and sat next to me and said that since they didn’t find any metal on me they were going to have to do an internal scan. He described the procedure, which sounded a lot like a colonoscopy. I put a hand on his shoulder and told him I was leaving the airport and walking to wherever I was going because I would not submit to that. That it had become ridiculous to the point where it didn’t make sense. The agent started to cry.
I’m not even planning on going anywhere so I have no idea where this dream came from. It’s well known at this point that I’ve sworn to never fly again. It’s not just about the security lines, the nude photos, the x-rays, the pat downs, or the groping; it’s also about the delays, the gate switching (with no notification), the cancellations, the too-small seats, the horrible service and all that.
But, more than that, I think it’s about the complete fear of writing about, or even mentioning, air travel. Make an off-hand remark about something and, in a best case scenario, you’re banned from flying. I’m having second thoughts writing about this and, like I said, I’m not planning on flying anywhere. Ever. This isn’t the America I was brought up learning about and being taught to respect because of the freedoms that we had while other countries lived in police states.
If I travel again, I plan to do it by car. In the long run I think it will be better. Sure, it will take longer but I’ll get to see things besides clouds. I can stop and smell the roses, or the wild flowers, or whatever. Maybe the world moves too fast these days and we all miss things, little things, that can add a little something to our lives.
Which is all wonderful, the only problem being getting enough vacation time to actually drive somewhere. I figure a trip to New Jersey should be two weeks, minimum. Two days to drive up there, two days to drive back and about a week of visiting time. I suppose I could do it in less time than that. Indeed, I may wear out my welcome long before ten days is up.
I’ve given up on even the idea of dating. I will, instead, focus my efforts on trying to get prostitution legalized and spending my money on strippers and beer. After all, those women should be rewarded for their honesty and integrity.
Frankly, if I hear one more woman go on about how there are no good men around, or that they’re all taken, or that men only want “one thing” I believe I shall puke all over their precious, cute shoes.
It’s been a tough week for me, for a variety of reasons; some I can explain and some I can’t. I suppose I’ve just been “in a mood.” If you don’t like it then you can you’ll have to find a way to deal with it. I deserve to have my off days, my sad days, and my angry days. I’ve never quite figured out why everyone else is entitled to them but I’m not. I guess I’m just supposed to be that fat, jolly guy who takes everything in stride.
I don’t have a music heading yet, so you’ll have to deal with WordPress’s ultra-shitty “Heading 1” setting, since I can’t find any way of adjusting the font size. I hope the 26 of you who read this can deal with it.
Anyway, in high school heavy metal was the big thing. There was some sort of difference of opinion as to what “heavy metal” actually was, though. I wasn’t really a heavy metal person, though; I listened to Rush, Yes, The Moody Blues, Hawkwind, Uriah Heep, Blue Cheer and stuff like that. I guess it could be considered “progressive.” I also had a Twisted Sister album, when they got popular all of a sudden. I’m still not sure if that’s considered heavy metal or not.
To cut down on the rambling, bands like Iron Maiden were big but I never really listened to them. I have to say now, after listening to quite a bit of their work, that they really are quite good. Although, I have a hard time coining them “heavy metal.” I sort of consider them “heavy progressive.” This is me now, though. I guess I would have considered them heavy metal back in the 80s, had I listened to them, then.
Just for kicks I thought I would try out some of the, uh, “heavier metal?” Like Anthrax, Slayer, and Venom. I have to say that I enjoy it, now. Strangely, after years of listening to punk and hard core, they all seem kind of tame.
This, my friends (if I have any left after the diatribe up further), strikes me as quite peculiar. Do people normally turn from progressive to heavy, Satanic, black metal bands in their 40s? And decide that they’re kind of tame?
In the future I imagine, people are listening to “Buck Rogers”-type of futuristicky music. All synthesizers and bleeps and boops while people dance with those light rope things. I have family come visit me in the old folks home (which, let’s face it, is unlikely since no one bothers to visit me now). They’ve got their portable listening devices and let me listen to it.
“What are you listening to that crap for?” I lisp through my wrinkled, toothless mouth. “Here, listen to some classic GWAR. Now that’s music!”
Assuming, of course, that GWAR will be legal in the new America of the future. Which it probably won’t be, the way things are going.
Frankly, a lot of the so-called heavy metal sound like bubblegum pop music to me. Like Kiss. Especially Kiss. Even newer Manowar, who purportedly play real heavy metal (on 10!), sounds like pop.
So, there you go. I’m full of angst today and mad at the world. No wonder I’ve taken to listening to un-Godly heavy metal music. Oh, wait… I think the PMRC are at my door.