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Thursday, Feb. 14, 2002 / 6:52 p.m. ~Rest In Peace, Waylon.....and Pop~ In honor of my Pop, and Waylon Jennings, I'm listening to "Ol' Waylon", on vinyl. "...Luckenbach, Texas, with Waylon and Willie and the Boys.....". Damn shame. You know? The guy has diabetes, right? He loses circulatory function, or whatever happens to diabetics who don't live as they "should", so they fucking take off one of his feet (I can hear the doctors now: "Well, Waylon, you know that foot's gotta come off, it's got no blood circulating through it anymore", and Waylon says, "Aw, man, that's my foot! Do you have to? Ain't I gonna die anyway?", and that's where they talk him into it), and he dies anyway. Like within a week or two or three. Fucking doctors. No, I don't know all the details. But for some peculiar reason, my father, born and bred in Chicago, Illinois, joined the Army as a kid, fought in whichever war, the BIG one, or Korea, no, wait, he was in the Phillippines, I think, and went to school in Spain and France (at the Sorbonne), had a HUGE passion for country music, especially Waylon and Willie. Not only did I inherit a nice portion of his Mozart, Haydn and Vivaldi recordings, I split the collection with my brother, dividing up the Waylon and Willie and Tammy and Dolly. What an interesting character he was, my Pop. Cheers, Pop! Cheers, Waylon! You're both at peace now, wherever you are, drinking and partying, and listening to country, and Bach Lute Suites.......and you don't need feet. Or brains, or kidneys. There's no cancer, no diabetes. Must be grand. Oh no, Waylon's doing "Sweet Caroline" now. I'm sorry, I may have to flip this and listen to the Elvis Medley......hang on..... Yeah! Waylon singing "That's All Right"....this is pretty good. I haven't heard this album since Pop was alive. Surely he played it for me. We lived together for a while, he and I, from right after my mom died until I went off to college. About 3 years, I guess. He'd break out the country music from time to time, and I'd either leave the room or groan especially loudly, but some I really liked. Like Dolly Parton singing "Jolene". That's how I chose my name for my diary!! Yeah, did you know that??? And I spelled it wrong, found out after the fact, but you can't alter your username.......Man, that's a great song. I recently bought one of her albums on CD just for that song. Waylon sure did sing pretty. I gotta tell ya. Makes me wanna cry just listening to him. This is clearly "get drunk and cry in your beer" music. Oh yeah. Hey, I have Penelope's definitive conjecture on the Rasta situation: "I think he got the boot." A direct quote. When I asked. I did have to ask. First I asked D., "So, Rasta's 'no longer with us'?", and she nods, as she's straightening his cubicle, his little Jah message scrolling across his monitor as a screensaver. Then Penelope confirms it. I knew she'd know. Laverne went to lunch with him, I saw Rasta drop her off as I was leaving. Oh well, he was not a good employee. He is not a "worker". I can see him lounging on a beach smoking a fat one, but I can't see him really ever working, not hard. I don't know what his passion is, but maybe he'll find something some day. I was so resentful of his slackness I was DYING for him to be "let go". It was just so unfair to keep him on, to pay him to do what he did, to lean back in that chair and yak on the phone all day. What goes around comes around. Tonight is......oh, guess! Part 2 of the Season Finale of "Temptation Island 2"!!!!! What else? I cannot wait. Well, I can, but you know. I will. Hermione is supposed to call me, this is her last night here, but I called and left her a message warning her I have all this TV I have to watch, the "ER", etc...oh, wait, the Olympics...no "ER"??? Anyway, I warned her I'd be watching my shows. Gawd, I sound like a little old lady. "Well, I have my shows, you know, and the kitties, so I keep myself pretty busy, but I sure could use some company." Hah! Oh, fucking Valentine's Day. All day, people got flowers and balloons and chocolates and shit, the receptionist paging everyone to the front desk instead of calling them on their phones. "So and So, come on down! It's YOUR turn!", blah, blah, blah. I warned Sabrina she was going to do that. She did it last year. She'll do it every year. Fuck her. It embarrasses the ones who get the shit, and makes the ones who don't get the shit feel like they should be getting shit. I told Helen, whilst gazing at the red roses on her desk, her first red roses on Valentine's Day, a 2nd time Newlywed at 48 or so years old, "Yeah, men are okay, but they're far more trouble than they're worth", and I believe it. I think. I like yellow roses anyway. So there. Harrumph. I don't want fucking roses anyway. And chocolate? Who needs it, I don't even like it that much. See, who cares?! Um, right, things to do, gotta go. Gotta turn this crap country music off! Sorry, Waylon. Rest in Peace. Cost of the War in Iraq
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