Wednesday, October 19, 2005

I'm seriously considering dying my hair gray and changing my name to Sandy Goodnight. People will think I'm in my 70s. The story will go that I've been working as curator in a small town museum in the middle of North Dakota or Manitoba for the last 20 years. Before that I worked as a mule skinner for the U.S. Forest Service in Oregon. I've been married twice (to the same woman). Her name was Belva, and she died in 1984. I have one son--Larval--to whom I no longer speak. I live a peaceful life and fish a lot. BUT! One day I decide to record a rap album. . . . The indie rock critics love it for its novelty, but then the kids in The Bronx and Brooklyn realize that I'm the greatest old man white rapper they've ever heard and start taking pilgrimmages on Amtrak out to see me.

Then a civil war erupts for some reason, and I get my fair share of battle scars. Then I discover the cure for the Bird Flu and get married to a 44-year-old Guatemalan ex-prostitute named Marvel. I die in her arms after a painful arm wrestling match with Cowboy Troy.

Eight months later Marvel gives birth to a deformed daughter whom three U.S. Senators claim has extra-sensory powers.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

Holy shit!!! I AM THAT EX-PROSTITUTE, gUATEMALAN MARVEL!! But right now, i'm still in my mango mama body...I'll see you in the sleepside tonight, Funkadoman....love, elise

Anonymous said...

Sandman,

I work with your Ma, recently met your Pa for the first time a few weeks ago, and, like the bass-ackwards monkey fart that I am, missed the chance of meeting and listening to your show in Polson.

I have been downloading your tunes and checking them out. I like them so damned much that I cannot type a single word about them here. I am afraid that I will bubble over with an effervesence so complete that it will undo me. Just trust me, I dig the grooves deeply.

Here are the mysterious coinky-dinks that connect us:

1. You are pals with Mike "Earl" Craig. I knew Mike in many of his manifestations: Wood Ibis, Ramirez, etc. and still think of him as one of the best poets I have had the good fortune to hang out with on this planet. I have found some of Senor Wood Ibis Ramirez' writings in literary journals and now admire him from afar. The next time you see him tell him Rhino Benedetti greets him from afar. Is it Earl Ramirez that has the blind border collie named Vinnie? Tell him I have a son named Vinnie (Vincenzo, Vince, Vincent, Vin) who is neither blind nor a border collie, but still . . .

2. The first student I met at SKC (who also happens to have taken over my first job as Digital Arts and Design instructor) was one of your pals and prom dates: Leslie Camel.

3. As I mentioned before, I work with your Mom, a woman so wise, kind, and effective, I am certain I have added years to my life simply by knowing her.

4. Your eclectic musical influences are eerily like my own. I have yet to utter this same statement to anyone else on the planet. Grandmaster Melle Mel, 3rd Bass, Dylan, Marley, Zeppelin, Run-DMC, Ice-T – crazy, Holmes. I was most blown away that anyone but my bro and I remembered 3rd Bass. Everyone digs the Beasties, but who has heard of 3rd Bass? "My name is Pete Nice you want my autograph?"

If you also tell me, Sandman, that when you are in Rockin' Rudy's you have trouble deciding between Public Enemy, Tom Waits, the Meat Puppets, Ween, Stevie Wonder, Hank Williams III, and the Kills,
I will shudder with synchronicity.


Mo Later.

In reverence and coincidence,

Rhino B. Ugly (musical amanuensis for ROOG)

Chris Sand said...

dang, rhino! we'll have to hang out and swap stories next time i'm in the valley. thanks for the comment.

p.s. hi to leslie for me if you see her (even tho' she ditched me at the prom to make out w/ tony stasso in his black camaro.)