Ozzy Pizza Deer Leg Tweet.

by Serge Bielanko

The following is a random assortment of drips and drabs. Enjoy.

--- There are snowflakes whirling around through the apple blossoms in the orchard across the street from my bedroom window. What the hell, Lord? Tell the sky to get with the seasonal program, man.

--- For the last 700 or so naps and sleeps that we have put Violet down for, she has drifted off to this CD of African Lullabies that a friend sent us when she was born. Whatever gorgeous language Ladysmith Black Mambazo sing in...my daughter is probably gonna grow up understanding it through twilight osmosis.

--- WAR AND PEACE. I am still reading this. One of the best novels I have known. When I'm done, I plan to read DON QUIXOTE. As I get older/more mature/fatter: I need to combine weight lifting with my reading time. So only big heavy classics hold any allure for me.

--- My wife and I had a conversation on our bed this past Sunday. It was afternoon and we were still both in our sleepwear (rare for me/unrare for her). The talk was on the use of restrictor plates on the engines of the stock cars at the bigger NASCAR tracks, the Super Speedways. The only thing I can come up with is that maybe she was trying to stall me as her lover slipped out the back window or something. Either way, it was nice.

--- We've been toying with idea of a small weekend getaway somewhere this summer. Nothing fancy, we say. Nothing expensive. I am leaning towards me, her, and Violet driving the Honda north towards different historical sites along the Oregon Trail in Wyoming and Idaho. You can move at your own pace, hit up some local luncheonettes, stay in motels with pioneer themes and stuff.

--- My guess is Monica would rather head to Vegas. There, she could allow herself to be sucked into the vortex of bad hands, tears, and financial ruin that she was met with the last time we went there. I was like a small elderly man, sipping his soft drink, and placing nickles in the small-time slots. When I approached my wife at a card table of some sort, no lie, she couldn't even look at me. Didn't see me or hear me. Just ignored me.

--- Either little getaway probably has one main thing in common, I guess. Here it is: In Sin City or on Wagon Train Row...Serge won't be getting laid.

--- My daughter started drinking from a Sippy Cup this past week. Then on Sunday I found her and her mama in the fozen food aisle at Wal-Mart and noticed there were some flower pattern Sippy Cups in the cart. My heart sank a little. I had been wanting to get these Dora The Explorer Sippy Cups I saw at the other grocery store. I didn't say anything though. Then, later in the evening, I had a conversation with myself in which I basically confronted me with: "What the fuck, man? Get a damn grip. Who cares about Sippy Cup aesthetics? You're losing all edge, dude. ALL FUCKING EDGE!"

--- A few weeks ago I decided that I would send a Twitter to Bill Cosby. I have always thought he was super intriguing and very funny. My Pop-Pop used to watch this one HBO Cosby stand-up special over and over again when we lived with him. He would laugh until tears rolled down his cheeks, until small snots bubbled at his nostrils. So, when I checked my Twitter the other day for the first time in a while...there was a return Tweet from the man himself. Bill Cosby had Tweeted me back. If you want to act all cool and think that ain't no big thing, well go right ahead. But in my world it was huge. Huge.

--- After Bill Cosby Tweeted me I took Violet and the dogs out for a hike in the hills because my heart was beating fast and I needed to think about Bill Cosby and Philly and Little Bill (the awesome cartoon based on Cosby's Philly youth) and whether or not there was actual validity in my feelings; could I justify my effervesence or was I just dancing around the same Flame of Loser Daddy that made me Sippy Cup crazy? Whatever. After a while my dog Milo came wandering back to me with a deer leg he'd found jutting from his mouth like a massive blunt. I construed that this was my award. From God. If you get sent a Tweet from a comedic legend: you get a deer leg. Seems about right. To me, at least. I was pretty much able to let the whole experience ride after that. I haven't brought it up at all. Well, til now, yeah.

--- California would be a cool getaway. I miss seeing it. Take Violet to the ocean for the first time and all. Ride the PCH in the Honda. Hell, maybe I Tweet Cosby...tell him we'll be in the area. But its a long drive, I reckon. I doubt the kid would wanna watch Peanuts on the mini DVD for twelve hours straight, huh? Damn.

--- I've calculated a thing. Between Monday morning and Friday night, I see my wife awake for a grand total of fifteen minutes. 3 minutes per afternoon, as we trade off cars and Violet. Usually in a parking lot somewhere.

--- If there is a way for someone to send me a real pizza from NYC or Philly, I'm down.

--- Every morning, on my way to work, I see the same three pheasants out in this field near the freeway on-ramp. For months now. How will that all end, I wonder? Will they just decide to move on someday? Will I have to change my route when construction closes the interchange? It's weird to me. That it has to end eventually, us seeing each other at every crack of dawn. You just have to enjoy it while it lasts, I guess.

--- I damn near bought an OZZY OSBOURNE t-shirt on ebay the other day. I never would have done that years ago. I didn't get Ozzy then. Didn't even try. But, the more I'm alive, the more days I survive: the more I understand him and like him and wanna wear his name across my chest. I should probably Tweet him.

--- I broke my fly fishing rod again the other day. So I sent it back to the company to fix it. Then, a friend was cool enough to loan me one of his so I could fish. On Saturday I fished with it for 5 or 6 hours and then I broke that rod too. In half. I sat there on the side of the river just staring at the dangling piece hanging off my line. Then I went home shit-out-of-luck.

--- The band I played in with my brother for many years is called Marah. They just finished a new record called LIFE IS A PROBLEM. I'm really happy for them, and for my brother. The music is wonderful. It really is.

--- No, I don't really miss playing in the band that much. I miss big parts of it, of course, but not the music business or the long constant touring or the endless hours in the studio. I mostly miss being drunk in gas station mini-markets at 3am, trying to decide if I wanna buy six Mozzarella string cheeses and Paprika Pringles or eight Mozzarella string cheeses and some Nibs.

--- I couldn't tour anymore. Since Violet was born, neither one of us has been away from her for even one night. That's 15 months of togetherness. Not so much like touring, I guess. More like one of those hillybilly theaters down in Branson, Missouri....where the same people play in the same place every night of the week. That's where I'm at now and I'm super cool with that.