to start with, another glossary entry.
i forgot to remember that everything here has to do with memory even though i write this stuff like “from the glossary of brain and memory.”
imagine that.
this surely illustrates the title of this entry being “failure to store,” and how i don’t have to use it in a sentence now that i already did.
11 – Failure to store – One’s failure to mentally process information in ways that promote its storage in long-term memory.
see above for use in a sentence, just in case your memory is also shot to hell.

this is a follow-up to the experience i had at the beach after having words with the eduardo cianelli-sounding guy a few notes back.
you can read it here.

what was being proffered by the eduardo cianelli guy, that con artist from planets beyond, was his tapping into my memory of the previous week when i met a guy by the name of dave who was the drummer in a band called the “spider junkies”
i’m going to leave this here, maybe for me, but i’m not sure;
Pillbox
the link above is written in a tone reminiscent to its time.
i’ve found a frenetically-offered mentioning of bands and names of people who were part of the moment that was scrap bar and the east village dope and whiskey-soaked punkpostpunk and bighairglampose- bikermetal era. this was scrap-life in tone.
i found it as i was searching for images of the band i’m talking about and one band member in particular, a kid i met who was sixteen years old at the time by the name of Brandy. this is the spider junkies;

brandy is the pouty-looking guy, second from left. dave the drummer is the blond at the far right end. he’s the one who was at goodbye blue monday this past week. next to him
is dave. he worked at scrap bar from a long while. next to brandy, at the far left is danny. he worked in the “boutique” that we opened upstairs from scrap bar.
i think that boutique was the mack-daddy of stupid ideas.
when asked what would be a better idea to put into the store, i suggested a not opening a store but if we had to, to open a coffeehouse.
i figured that if we got people drunk downstairs, we could get them sober upstairs.
i was out-voted. but that’s another story.
i don’t doubt that the grifting lizard guy had accessed my recent memory and used it to suggest that cab calloway music be played in and around what i might think is the lair of the grifting lizards from mars, out there in gateway national park. the grifting lizards are as good at keeping humans off-balance as they are at getting them prepped for their amazing “dinner-and-a-suit” gorge-a-thons.
this is because that kid “brandy” was cab calloway’s grandson.

”

there seems to be an overabundance of memory-connectedness in this entry. perceived, manipulated and otherwise. it’s not every day that the eduardo cianelli-sounding lizard would impart a memory-hook like he did. i find that since meeting these carnivorous grifters, our relationship has grown, though i can’t put my finger on whether it’s friendship, respect or an untenable link between man and lizard, prey and predator or lower and higher food source. i guess i’ll never fathom the thoughts of other life-forms in the universe.
i recall days when humans were so cocksure that it was perfectly alright to perform cruel and inhuman testing on dogs. they would use beagles because they were among the smarter and more trusting animals to exact horrible behavior on.
this was true because we were told by experts that they didn’t register pain the way humans do, or other such hogwash.
experts are as important as fashion mavens.
just don’t ask me what i think of fashion.
we have experts everywhere, all the time, telling us what’s best for us.
experts put gold stars on all sorts of things.
TV, wall street and washington are full of them.
i’m expert at straying from the point.
which leads me yet elsewhere.
after eating my first bushwick shawarma (pita palace at montrose and bushwick – site of the late “loco burrito,” though they’re keeping the mexican menu as well) – i stepped out to get some groceries. i walked into the new bodega across the street. on the sandwich grill in the open kitchen was a small hill of cooked bacon.
it propelled me to what…? two years ago? three?….
i received bacon-flavored ice cream as a present.
god, that was good.

back to brandy and the spider junkies.
he worked for me for a while but was part of the “trainwreck employee union.”
i know this because i was a high ranking official for this same union but was able to keep a lid on it for a while. i would end up crazier than a loon soon enough again.
i like to imagine my madness more along the lines of centrifugal force.
each time i would run the abuse trip, i’d end up further and further out there.
more about me later.

to keep it short and to the point, maybe being a twelve-year-old guitar player for his grandfather’s musical group did something to him. maybe being young and crazy was reason enough (it was for me), but he spun out of control far enough that he lost everything – bandmates, friends…you know – that stuff.
his girlfriend headed west and sort-of implied “if you want to live, come with me. oh, and i’m having a baby.” which is what ended-up happening.
i don’t know the histrionics. i do know he left and years later i ran into him in the streets of NYC. he was clean and serene and the father of two children.
a year passed.
the next thing i heard was he died and i assumed the worst.
i looked at it all with a sense resignation until one of his close friends (he got them back) told me it was natural causes, which made it ever more the little tragedy of making friends with your kids only to be sent off sparking up the universe because of the luck of the eternal draw.
i can’t put into words how excellent it was to know he was “there” for the blast-off.
i’d imagine he’s hootin’ and hollerin’ and a note was passed by the unprotected lizards who only look on passively as brandy tears along the rim of the celestial orchestra feedbacking the muzak playing in the elevators of mars.

unfortunately, we don’t get to press this button.
btw/ this was pried off one of those nuclear launchers out in the land of grifting lizards..

hi-dee hi-dee ho!