Yours Truly,

the Gloomy Boomer,

a world-champion Slacker,

dreams of escaping personal responsibility

I have a personal responsibility?

That’s right!

I’m speaking of Scruffy.

I let him down.

I’m a bad owner. A good owner takes care of his boat. Spiffs him out. Shines him up. Makes him Turn-Key.

Scruffy just sits in the water.

Now I mean to dump him…sell him and go live in a stealth van.

I bought him thinking I’d fix him up

He needs his decks sealed. Wood windows and brightwork brightened. Water pump hooked-up. Bottom cleaned. Master bath remodeled. Window panes installed. Electrical sockets fixed. What else? Shit. There’s plenty more he needs.

I don’t even want to think about it

I’m not a fixer upper kind of Dude. I fooled myself into believing I was. That’s right. I bought this big old honk’n boat, Scruffy, two years ago this september, all joyous about owning him, confident in my ability as a handyman.

What was I thinking?

I’m not a Handyman!

I’m not even that kind of Handyman.

I wish I was.

I’m not a giving kind of person. I’m more of a Taker. What happens to a taker when he reaches seventy?

He ends up on a old boat…old and alone…with maybe a fellow Taker for company.

Old Salt, a world-champion Taker

Yeah, that’s right. I’m sitting here tossing crackers at Old Salt. I need to start Spiffing old Scruffy. Where do I start? The Deck? The Bathroom? The Plumbing. I got the whole day I can work on this boat.

Work? Yeah, work.

I’m thinking of plenty things I could do to avoid work.

Get crazy with this crazy Broad.

Share a bottle of wine with a this hot to trot old Broad.

I could have a drink with a young Bohemian. Share some of my Hipster Wisdom with the kid.

Or I could join a party.

Grabs some laughs.

Or I could do something that gives me a sense of achievement.

Like dig up some ancient artifacts.

Or put on my Collie Suit and walk around like a dog.

I could even go out on a boat.

A nice fixed up boat.

I don’t need to hang on Scruffy.

This is how you put things off. Shirk your responsibilities.

Forget about Boat Improvements.

Go off and do something.

Maybe I’ll put on that Collie Suit….

Okay, I’m standing here at my window, slinging crackers at Old Salt.

Thinking what to do with my day. How to avoid boat improvements.

I’m staring at my Boom Box.

A cassette tape and CD combination with a radio. It’s a AIWA. A real good brand in 1988 or thereabouts. I bought this one at the Salvation Army for ten bucks. You can get one on EBAY for fifty. This one works perfect.

Except for two little details:

the A/C chord slips out and I gotta reprogram the settings. Long as I don’t wiggle the chord…long as I leave it where it sits…no problem.

The other thing, the radio gets zero FM reception.

I can’t tune in NPR.

Every minimalist bum with intellectual pretensions needs NPR.

I mean, what’s my alternative? A.M.? What kind of talk shows air on A.M.?

The Right Winger kind. Flag waving Trumpy Lunatics with country music fade ins.

I mean, I’m good for a laugh or two with the Fascists but twenty minutes of that shit and I’m reaching for my Peacemaker.

No, I need a Boom Box that gets F.M. stations.

A Failed Mission

I’m feeling good about myself. I’m shirking my responsibilities. But at least now I have a good reason to shirk my boat work duties.

I’m on a mission. Buy a decent F.M. radio.

I check out three stores in my area.

Ross has no Radios. Salvation Army has no radios. Goodman’s hardware has a f.m. radio for twenty five bucks but it’s even more of a cheap shit radio than my AIWA. I’m gonna check out one more store where they might have a F.M. radio for sale CHEAP.

I head over to this store located right up the street from my Boat in good old Marin City.

Little do I know it…Old Salt’s been dogging me.

He followed me over there.

The little prick is hungry. If I don’t feed him, he’ll rob the store!

I’m out of there. I can’t be hanging in the vicinity. I could get nabbed as an accomplice.

The little prick has no moral compass.

Maybe he’s been hanging around me too long.

A full Moon Song

I got nothing done today.

I’m just hanging on my big bed in my big ass berth.

Gazing at a hole in my wall…

I really ought to fix that hole.

Put it on the list

of shit I gotta fix…

I drift off.

Awake to a full moon.

I’m staring out my rear hatch at a big old beautiful moon

with canada geese flapping by

and the air all peaceful down here on the docks…

Just me aboard old Scruffy.

My old Dude boat.

Just laying here feeling dreamy

when like magic

a song lights up my boom box…

must be that loose chord engaging…

and I’m hearing a hell of a priceless song…

the kind grabs hold of you like a hug…

tugs at your soul…

a song that takes me back to the wild days of my youth

back then

long ago

when you and I were running together

having a crazy wild time

in that crazy summer of 73′

I drift off thinking

maybe I’ll just

hold on to that old Boom Box…

a little while longer.