Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Revelations


A couple things I'd to address.

1. I get along really well with old, long haired hobos who drink beer across the street from my work. They dont even ask me for smokes or money anymore. Jerry ( my personal hobo ) says he'd call me "red" if there wasnt already another fella going by that name. I'd like to think of myself as " the hobo whisperer". Although there is that one mean fucker with the violin. Fuck that guy.

2. People who pay for things in nothing but change really bother me. I'm cool with using change. Just never more then 5 dollars at a time. Shit can get kinda outta control.

3. Big Ups to my girl Nancy Kerrigan. Hang in there Boo.

4. White people love smoothies.

5. And Kombucha.

6. Terry Worrell hates winter and emails me everyday telling me so. Today he emailed me twice.

7. The other day a gay latino gentleman came into my work and when I greeted him he just said "g's up, ho's down". I asked him what the fuck he was talking bout and he just said "it's a state of mind". Still confused about the whole thing.

8. I think I might be a Republican. I'm totally cool with the death penalty and really hate having to give me hard earned money away to layabouts. However, I'm totally cool with gay marriage and abortion.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Terry Worrell Interview



Terry Worrell is a father,a brother, a poet, an artist, a lover, and a golfer. This is a candid interview I did with him over Christmas just for shits. He's a legend and an institution in the Austin punk scene and we were very lucky to catch him on a good day. Maybe it was because I gave him a subscription to Avid Golfer Monthly that made him feel like getting real.




LOGAN: Describe your earliest memory.

TERRY: This morning it was "I'm glad I made the coffee last nite".  Lifetime--- vague flashes
of black & white newsreels of WWII and FDR, and the remains of the house we had been living in after it burned down.

LW:What did you parents do for a living?

TW:Pop worked for the Highway Dept. for 42+ years and officiated fuhbaw,
basketball and baseball.  A lot of our 'disposable' income was derived from that.  Disposable income meant food,
rent, gas, etc.  Mother worked many years for the DPS/Driver's License Bureau.

LW:Tell me about your siblings.

TW:Chuck is the big 'un, 3 years younger, fuhbaw coach.  Pat is the baby, 7 years younger,
bigot cop.

LW:How did this influence your adult life? 

TW:I guess I was the leader.  No influence to speak of.

LW:How old are you?

TW: 2/20/42.  67 years old.

LW: Holy shit that's old. Do you have any regrets? 

TW:Way too many to inumerate.

LW: Terry Worrell, highlights? 

TW: 3/27/83.  1973.

LW:Who is Snidley Whipsnade?

TW:  My alter ego.  He is the creative one.  Resides in my PC and will say/write whatever
comes to his mind.

LW:When you were my age, what did you think youd be doing at 60?

TW: I was in the military at your age, and my only
thoughts were to be a civilian.  No cognition of being 60.  Not a clue.

LW:Describe your children. 

TW:The absolute best any one could ever ask for.  Totally different from each other.  Never
met anyone I'd trade either of mine for.My daughter is very intelligent and has been successful in her business career.  Very independent, in some ways.  Proud of her accomplishments.My son is a piece of work.  Got the guts of a catburglar.  Been all over the world by the age of 27, with more traveling planned.  He sees other countries like a local, not as a tourist.  He probably sees things that even the natives don't see.That takes some sand.  Lives life on his terms, not society's.  Proud as hell of him.  Takes risks I never took.

LW: Well that's cute, I cant wait to put you in a home. Marriage, thoughts? 

TW: Only reasons anyone my age should ever even consider getting married....She gotta ton of
money....and she can see to drive at night. 

LW: So why 1973? Care to elaborate on this?

TW: I went thru a divorce in mid '72.  It was the height of 'The Sexual Revolution'
and I was not a prisoner of war.  I met, and was befriended by, more than a few very nice members of the female
persuasion to help me enjoy my leisure time.

LW:How did what you parents did for a living influence your life? 

TW:Both of my parents worked their asses off.  Dad especially.  I became an athletic official for 10+years myself.  Most of what work ethic I have comes from my Dad.  As in:  If you ain't early, you must be late.  If you don't feel good, getcherass to work.  if you're sick, die and prove it.  Work as hard as you can for as long as you can.  Anybody can catch the easy ones.

LW:How do you feel about being married? 

TW:If I hadn't married your mother, I wouldn't have yall.

LW:How and when did Snidley make his was into your life?

TW: In 1995 my best friend Dick Yax became sick.
I started writing to him to cheer him up.  Snidely evolved from the stuff I wrote to Yax.  After he died
Snidely became a creative outlet.  Some people think he write's funny.  I don't sing, play an instrument,
paint or any other of the 'arts', so TheSnide is the only creative aspect of my life.

LW:Surely, there are more then 2 highlights in you 67 years on earth?    

TW:Trips to England, Ire & Scot Lands.  Road trip
w/Chuck thru Maine.  The Navy.  3 college letters in baseball.  6-8 trophies for racketball from YMCA. 

LW: Would you say you have a good relationship with your siblings? 

TW:vI have a good relationship with both brothers considering we
don't live close to each other.  I see them about once a year on average.  We email often.  Talk on the phone about once a month.

LW: How does being 67 make you feel? other then old. Is there anything left you would like to do before you die? Is there any weird bucket list hiding in your closet?

TW: I feel I've lived past my time.  Not liking all the changes taking place in the world.  Very frustrated with
politics, stupid people, hustle and bustle of the big city.  I try not to bother anybody, and I don't want anybody to bother me.
It ain't working.  There is still some places I'd like to visit.  Prince Edward Island, Canada.  World Golf Hall of Fame, Florida.

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Werk.

Being an international punk rock superstar ain’t easy. It’s hard partying all the time. Being a buff dude can really take its toll. The societal expectations of being a badass motherfucker in this day and age ain’t like in the good old days. You think Rollins had to deal with this kinda shit? Fuck no, he didn’t. He was living the high life with Kira. The only problem I can see with this whole extreme lifestyle thing I got going on is where to acquire the funds to facilitate said lifestyle. Drugs, selling ass, food service.

Let’s start with drugs. Well, if I got em, I’ll take em and there goes the money, which would kind of defeat the purpose. I’m not anti-drug by any means. I’m more anti-jail and definitely anti- being some strung out Manic Mike type dude. More than likely I’d fuck up and get involved in some MS13 bullshit and get my ears chopped off because I’m fucking stupid. I’d owe em money and they’d light my childhood home up like a fucking Christmas tree. The only really punk way of selling drugs would be selling bags of glue outside of shows at an all ages show space. Punk style. Ok. Mark it. Sell glue.

Selling ass. DEE DEE did it best, so why try to fuck with it. Dee Dee was a young, skinny, super cute little trick with a twinkle in his eye and down strokes in his heart. He had a healthy junk habit to support and knew what he had to do to get what he needed. Most of us, on the other hand, would just give blowjobs to buy Spanish records and tattoos. I tried selling my body for cash once. Apparently there isn’t much of a market for ugly chubby dudes down on 53rd and 3rd. Bummerville, population: Logan. Back to the drawing board, I guess. And as far as being an actual pimp, well, punks could never do such a thing. I’d be a horrible pimp. Now, selling dudes, on the other hand... I could sell the shit out of some dudes. Even got a couple fellas in mind. Guys today are looking for a clean buff type of brother and I for one feel that I could supply that demand. It’s hard out there for a pimp.

What I’m trying to say is that most of us punks gotta work really shitty fucking jobs just to get by. Frankly, mine ain’t all that bad. I don’t have to do it much and it’s something a retarded monkey could learn to do in about an hour. However, you still work shitty hours and basically suck dicks to make rent. Y’all know what I’m talking bout living on tips. It’s rough. Of course, like I said, that’s only a few days a week and only every couple months. Rest of the time I fancy myself an odd jobs kind of guy. You know, driving people around, picking up things, selling my wares. I’m also quite the fixture at the local pawnshop, but after many years of this kinda bullshit, it’s really starting to suck the life out of me. It’s really time to find a new way to make a living. Why is it that if you have no education and no skills you are reduced to a life of servitude? I can read. Kinda.

Now, being a 5th generation Texan, begging and asking for money is just not an option. Fuck these little scumbags down on the corner asking me for my fucking money. I’ll give the shit out of some money to an elderly person down on their luck just getting by on getting by or maybe a hobo who tells good jokes. Fuck all the generic debris sitting by the highway with their six dogs, 3 teeth (and probably from Chattanooga ) basically demanding me to hand over a few bucks. Fuck that. Get a job already. Remember that ANTI SEEN song “Spare Change”? I support it.

All you really need are your friends and records. Nowadays you don’t actually need either. We got the Internet now. 2009 is pissing all over punk. I’m not saying I don’t download DAC records online, but Jesus fucking Christ. Get the fuck out and live, man. However, people who say money can’t buy you happiness ain’t never been poor.