Goodbye Blue Monday

here’s goodbye blue monday before it was goodbye blue monday;

it has nothing to do with anything other than i put it here to let you know that it was full of rats when this picture was taken, and between loads of poison and a certain cat, all and any trace of them disappeared over five years ago.

with a sigh of relief, we handily passed our fourth health inspection.
i owe it to my staff and to my being a nag.
we might be a tad dusty, but we’re sanitary.
the inspector was a nice man and seemed to thoroughly enjoy the space itself.
i invited him to see a show.
i knew he understood the place when i asked him the kind of music he liked and he said “anything, as long as it’s good”
i told him about us being freeform and all…..
they still have me going to court next month so they can exact their pound of flesh but that’s the way it goes. i didn’t have a label on my carrot cake. that’s why i have to go.
we can’t tell you it’s carrot cake. “it” has to tell you it’s carrot cake.
mercy me. i wonder what that’s gonna cost.

if you were to add up the age of everything inside goodbye blue monday, upstairs and down, you’d be able to go to the moon and back just in records alone.
with an average age of 40 years-per-record, we’re talking about 400,000 miles. (40 X 10,000).
for all i know, you can get in “galactic-shouting-distance of the eighth electro plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension” with the combined age of everything here and if i were able to count the dust itself, “forget about it.”
that’s italian. i speak it because i was not able to shampoo the grease out of may hair this morning. may hair, scalp and skin are italian.
my liver is irish.
if i had been able to shampoo my hair this morning when hannah called and told me that the department of health and mental hygiene were downstairs, i might had said “oh, be jesus” instead.
back to GBM dust;
some of that dust might be from the dawn of time, just like the static you see on an old television. i learned that on pbs.
carl sagan, himself, may have revealed that to me. i don’t remember.
i’m not sure if you’ll see that with digital signals starting next month.
and i’m not sure mister sagan could answer that question any longer, now that he’s with “the chin”, jesus, david “fathead” newman, billie holiday and a whole gang of other bits of the universe and eternity, glinting and gleaming somewhere on the outer shelf of “gizmo2873A – priori-latinus”, a place that might as well be just to the “universal” left of the eighth electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension. (if you want to have gizmo2873A – priori-latinus as your vanity link, put it onto a blog subject and let’s see what happens.)
btw/”left” out there could be anyplace and i’m sure there’s subatomic high-fives being slapped right there on the eighth electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension by bits of those people along with eva paron and guy kibee.
when you buy something from here at goodbye blue monday, you’re buying history.
a book here may have witnessed a lizard visiting a crooked new york state politician in the nineteenth century. it may have seen a “lunch and suit” happen.
if a book could speak its own words, what incredible stories could some of them tell.

with the weight of the department of health and mental hygiene having slid from my shoulders, along with maxx’s insistence that he go out as in OUT, i piled up the car with maxx, biscuits, a big bottle of water and prepared to hit the cold beach.
as i was leaving, i spied auntie drew’s jared and told him about my plan for the day. as i asked if he’d like to join us, i worried for second that he might become a lizard’s lunch. realizing he’s about as broke as i am, i relaxed and we met a short time later in front of the dirty old car.

knowing that the lizard people were remarkably good at reading my mind, i was conversational with jared about my relationship with these secret-con-artist-master-farmers of pompous greedsters. i explained to him that there’s always a car parked near me with any number of lizards or suit-wearing-types. jared raised his hand signalling that he understood; that he had read some of this stuff that i posted in the past months and was comfortable with not being rendered a lizard’s pickins’ all that soon.
when we arrived, sure enough, there was a black late-model mercedes 300 coupe standing alone in the parking lot. we parked away from it, in the center of the lot, piled out and headed toward the paths through the dunes to the beach. i glanced to my left (not my universal left), and noticed the passenger-side window open about four inches. the driver looked like the eduardo cianelli lizard-guy who ate omar sharif, but to know for sure would have required me to squint or look harder from the distance i was from him.
he wasn’t calling me, i wasn’t answering him and that was that.
i’ll be back. maxx’ll make sure of that and they know it.
i wonder how far their knowledge and history with the likes of humanity go, i mean aside from knowing how to farm pink-skinned, self-congratulatory rip-off artists who don’t give a damn about the people they victimize, the old people whose pensions are dissolved or the workers they have absolute no regard for.
i had a dream that i was sitting in a room above a saloon called jimmy days on west 4th street near sheridan square up until the late 1980′s or so. it was a bar-restaurant that was part of my earliest days spent in the village in the late 1960′s. in this dream, i was reading a script that had letters i had never seen before. i looked across the room and ken lay, or rather the freshly emptied suit of ken lay was sitting before me saying “sure – you can understand this. it’s easy as “pi” he said.
the only thing i know about “pi” is that it’s 22/7ths of something and it can go on and on; that it’s a repeating fraction.
i am a product of the math of fractions and integers and i failed algebra and all things math. it is why math, to me, is outerspace, and why even with all the number-spinners out there, the only constant is “you might think you know” and your math is only as good as your sale of it and you’re right only as long as you’re not wrong.
some guys with great ability with numbers were “scholz and merton” -
they figured out a mathematical equation to determine the value of derivatives.
as i read the above link, i detected an odor by the third paragraph.
i suspect that this stuff is three odors removed from umbo boxes. once i saw the words “balance sheet” i knew the rocket to the universe of bullshit was on its way.
but, back to scholz and merton;
they were incredibly right with their math.
after they put this formula together, they both took a long sniff.
they didn’t smell a thing.
they were so right that got the nobel prize for economics in 1997.
they didn’t smell anything either.
with their math and nobel prize, the launched a hedge fund called Long Term Capital Management
the earth spun around, and people did what people did and in no time, all sorts of stuff happened, just like it’s happening now. you can smell it all now.
needless to say, that nobel prize winning formula and a metro-card’ll get you on the subway.
this doesn’t mean they weren’t smart. they were the smartest, nobel-prize winning economists for about 2 years till space, time and humanity rendered them not-that-smart.
so they go, so go we all.
back to my pi.
what that dream was telling me, i guess, was that like “pi”, i would follow my path because of my need to and unfortunately i was not made to be a merchant other than it to be a means to an end, something that i used to tell people when i first opened scrap bar and something that i would say eight years later when opening scrap bar in atlanta.
“your math is rudimentary at best” the suit of ken lay said in my dream, “but to look beyond the numbers is to attain bliss”
“is this ken lay or a con-artist lizard laying a line?” i asked in my dream.
with that, the furniture in the room began to lose color and become black and white drawings. the lounge chair i was sitting in became a drawing of a lounge chair on twenty-pound stock paper. the tables, lamps and the walls themselves were sketches in number-two pencil.
the reason i knew that was because i was the person drawing it, and as i drew i was just the tiniest bit alarmed that my angles were not ninety degrees where they should be.
“it all comes down to math,” i muttered, “and i’m not very good at this.”

i blinked and was on the beach. maxx was running his heart out. to my right i was able to make out jared saying “…and all i can hear is the ocean. this is great.”
i took this photo because it had something to do with the conversation i had with the lizard who told me where the elder lizard (who sounded like eduardo cianelli and looked like omar sharif) was the last time i was there.
if it snows later in the week, i’ll go back out there and find out.

One Response to “the department of health, the lizards let jared live”

  1. Goodbye Blue Monday » Blog Archive » oy…, so i was listening to npr a few days back…

    [...] all, i was talking about a conversation with a member of the best and the brightest of mars’ con-artist lizards, those who look at us in terms of deliciousness and pinkness, as extraordinary morsels chiseled and [...]

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