Big, lanky, bald. That’s how I would describe him.
I’m reflecting on seeing Damon Wayans in the back of a limo, slouched regally in the backseat while being chauffered around a countryside during the day. A White guy that El Seikatsu 生活 El Seriooso El Serioso otherwise known as Moi (call me Elliot) recognizes as another comedic funnyman (got ALOT of work commercially, in commercials and TV and movies dunno his name offhand) yet dunno his name but he got gets around (late 60s through the 80s — at least). mainly commercials, TV and played clumsy befuddled shat-upon underling like all the time. jester harlequin jewish catskill-concocted gremlin fantasy type — in essence. And usually dressed as a chauffeur — black tailored outfit lots of buttons, chaps, highboots, black captain’s cap just as he was is right now but in the back seat, not at the wheel, next to tall lanky knob Damon Wayans and consoling no imploring him to do something or other, and all I can think of was is
I didn’t realize Damon Wayans was is in films TV, TV Movies or Specials or even a commercial in the 60s and this may be one (any one of them). But the sound is turned off and I take note of Wayans young handsome face with eyebrows that seem penciled on that very nice shade of brown, a reddish brown TV hue, a brown bowling ball made of skin being consoled by a comedic chauffeur (can you be consoled in a TV console? hehe — ugh) who is being chauffered around the countryside in the Sunbeaming country Sun and this may not be real anyway but where did I see it and was this a dream cuz Damon Wayans can’t possibly be in this role in the late 60s judging by the quality of light that is sabering about in the backseat of the limo cabin.
And that light —
TV light?
TV Movie light?
Movie Film, Film Movie light whatever?
b-movie light? (close!)
b-movie light.
‘69 maybe ‘70. No later than ‘71 and this is impossible and must be a dream.
But on top of another dream?
Possibly.
Where the impossible is possible made Real (hehe)! Beecuzzzz dot dot dot
Me had another dream. A non TV or Film Movie dream, though had that look that sheen too it. A glass wrapped in plastic sandwiched between some other glass with a light sprinkle of baby powder atwat’d with sabering countryside light careening all around an umbra of TV light. Clearly.
Me had another dream. Clearly.
I’m being wisked away by 2 of my 3 best friends from Jr High and High School, LA New Wave Best Friends, LAs first Metro Males (‘78-’82. no awards for it, mind you. cruel) and we are in Venice as in Italy not California but postcard Venice (to be fair Venice, Ca is postcard Venice, The Boardwalk Venice, check out the livecam on yt any way, any time! — and everytime it looks that way, sizzlefry cctv yt livecam Venice, even in Real Life! hehe. no really) like — catholic bird though lovely swooppooped on your terrific frozen italian ice Venice Venice
And I’m wisked away by dear memory friends and plunked down at an outdoor dining table (naturally) with white tableclothes (naturally) and the Italian Sun is so unLA cool (naturally) but cool (naturally) in Venice (naturally) and I can barely take a breath or get a word in when a waiter leaves then quickly (in Venice, Italy? first clue) comes back (second clue) and plunks down 3 shiny and I do mean shinyass pure as white as glowy creamy bluish white as a marble Italy porcelain plate porcelain plate, and I mean fuck. I could live and die and be rebecatholicborn in Italy on a porcelain plate on those fuckin porcelain plates! And on them
And on them
And on them are clear as Italy daylight in the Sunshine is
is
3 squirrels
dead on arrival face up on their backs
cute but dead but cute but dead
but cute
but dead
dead dead
dead cute
but dead.
Well.
Needless to say, I am appalled. I am palled. The squirrels are palled. And I’m getting my bearings. Palled bearings.
My bearings are not straight. I’ll be getting them
straight.
Porcelain cool. Italy cool. Sunshine on my shoulders cool. Blinding white table clothes blinding me and the Italy white Sun cool cool. Impossibly quick Italy waiters in Italy cool but dubious but cool, but cool and I’ll take it hells yeah but
Squirrels. Sunny side up. For breakfast. In Venice Italy not even Venice Califuckinfornia?
No way.
No way. José.
No way. José.
No way. Oi vey. Olé. But no way.
José.
No way.
This is a Non Way.
This is the Non Way to do things. To eat things. José.
Send me a fuckin postcard from from Italy, France, San Franfuckit, Gayoosh Arabia, mutherfucker and I guarantee you! —
No squirrel on the postcard.
No squirrel on the menu the postcard the postcard-sized menu the menu comes with the postcard the and you can see I am clearly out of my mind over this subject. Here.
Look with your eyes.
Sez here on the menu:
No serva they squirrel.
Capicé muthufuckers?
Comprendé Jose?
White fuckin Wedding the 12” single for the fifth time dancing our asses off at The Odyssey on Beverly Blvd, not fuckin Venice Italy where they are not! quick to serve squirrel on or off the menu, New Wave Metro Muthafuckers. However cool but not cool but cool.
Not cool.
Uncool.
And fuckin Unfuckin Venusian, Italy, if you ask me.
Jonk! Ifa You-a Venusia Italy!
reada they bumper sticker
Mascarpone cheese eatin muthurofuckero.
Listen. Lisseeen-O!!
No-aaay squirrel ona una petitisimo postcardsize aaay menua. Tis a pity. But true-ay.
{Waiter doing the catholic invisible pop-lock manuever ona they chesto. It’s quite filmic!}
So scram.
Yep.
Scram.
But before that a real live squirrel jumps up on the table about us and checka eeus all outë. Yep. I fee fi fiddle ee ii mascarpony you not! Right there on the table and that includes the gorgeous plates with his dead squirrelbrethren. Or whatever. They dead he living and he checkin them out too!
Dude. This is cool but
Not kosher.
Non kosher checkin each other out whatever the species not kosherness as in
Fuckittheyfuckityfuctup. Capicé?
One word
I’mouttahere!
I gather my wits feel up my tits and baby
I am gone.
See that vintage cartoon New Wave teen with hair gel espiriting offa him knees feet n legs in the air zipping toward a roadrunner wile e coyote Mid Century Modern canyon landscape in techno colors? Puffy floaty clouds signifying Gone all ranging about?
That’s me when Gone.
Gone Bye Bye.
Owriverdelchee Italy.
I Got The Beat. Now I’m beating it, Memory Friends.
fastafazool!
woosssh!!
And that’s how I excapeda eating squirrel for breakfast.
In this case, in Venice Italy.
Dream within a dream?
Beats the fazool outta me.
But I absolutely hate it when I fake out my cat by mistake which I just did.
my cat: hehe. not funny.
me: not funny. hehe.
Ah Life!
https://m.soundcloud.com/louis-prima-official/just-a-gigolo-i-aint-954957827
My aunt has told me that squirrel is her favorite meat. Might have been a missed opportunity.
your writing style is awesome.
Reminds me of Danny Kay and Hans Christian Anderson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzmnSyqv37A