The Mushroom Diaries vol. 6 - Full Frontal Dudity

I'm an ordained Dudeist priest. Now for those of you not familiar with dudeism let's just say it's a way of life, a philosophy based on the life of Jeffrey "The Dude" Lebowski from the movie the Big Lebowski. It's a movie i happen to dig immensely and i've even read a few books based on texts taken and translated into Dudeism (see The Dude de Ching). Of course the funny thing is that i was the Dude before the Dude was ever introduced to the canon of popular culture. It struck me the other day while i was stoned and sitting my couch that the Coen brothers seemed to lift a lot of the dudes dudeist traits from your hero here. I spent much of my early to mid twenties walking around in a worn and shaggy brown sweater that zipped up the front, a sweater purchased for a few bucks at the local thrift store and in what i call a bit of cosmic bliss the sweater and i seemed destined to meet. It was semi-mouth eaten and i'm sure it's aroma changed with whichever bar or crappy apartment i'd happen to been in last but we suited each other perfectly. Of course one day while stoned and selling weed i managed to run over the zipper with the wheel of a chair i garbage picked, a chair that i used as my desk chair that sat in front of a word processor where i intermittently typed out shitty poems and even worse short stories. It was in that chair one fine afternoon that a mousy-haired young lady smiled, straddled me, then began kissing me while intimating that she would like to screw my brains out. Out of sheer politeness i obliged... then sold her some weed.

Stranger still i spent a lot of time drinking White Russians, aka Caucasians as they are sometimes called, back in those days, the years 1995-98, the movie came out in 1998 and the Dude was a big fan of said drink, all these similarities brought Robert Anton Wilson's Coincidence: A Head Test to mind. It was like that time riding a bus through the hills of Jamaica when i realized i had been there before but the before was in Costa Rica, a hop, skip and jump through time and reality and it struck me it was all the same and maybe i was both places at once... here's where the records skips and scratches it's way to the run out groove...

I've eaten the boomers twice this week, last night (thursday) being one. Of course in the course of the night it pissed down rain non-stop and i woke to a wonky internet signal and a back room that would soon be taking on water if i didn't do something about it. Now last night's dose wasn't a heavy hitter, more what i call a maintenance dose, combined with a puff here and puff there and in all a very relaxed night on the couch drifting in and out of consciousness while watching Chromatics videos on the box. Why Chromatics videos? well i'm a bit of a sucker for cinematic Italian-disco influenced eighties throwback music that's chilled out and stylish as fuck, the future nostalgia as i like to call it. Besides, their videos have lots of pretty, swirling colors and attractive women who rarely smile. So i placed a call to get a call back from the internetz geezers and then donned the rain gear and headed to the backyard where with broom and bricks and tricks combined with a bit of elbow grease and wet shoes, dirty hands and filthy pants, i diverted said water towards the swamp known as my back yard but hey man at least it wasn't seeping into the rumpus room where we've been playing much ping-pong between the I-mac juggling a soccer ball and Nick Disaster working on his handle with the hoop rock. Came back in, changed, hosed off, took the call from the internetz geezer and got things sorted, at this point i was looking forward to another day locked in the house reading books, listening to records and hanging with the boyos.

It was around 4:30 when the electricity went out, the wind doing a number on the trees we humans like to maim and mutilate. Of course i don't blame the trees i blame the people and i particularly blame the utility company especially when the estimated time of return to civilization keeps getting pushed back from 6:30 to 8 to 10. Now this would be annoying on the best of days but in these days it bordered on cruel and unusual punishment. A fridge and freezer stocked with food, a household with no income due to the Breadwinner being a business owner. Fact is if this shit goes on El Kono here will be heading back into the work force humping boxes for Bezos or delivering pizza. The restaurant business is taking a beating and while we ain't gonna starve anytime soon i can see that it wears on the boyos, the Breadwinner, and dare i say even myself. After driving around and charging phones in the car, perusing my usual streets, flipping around the radio, i found the boyos in the street kicking the footie, the cold front coming, the house dark, i told them to hop in the car and we sat in the driveway and shot the shit. We went in and when the lights clicked on Nick Disaster threw his arms around me and gave his old man a big hug out of nowhere, he asked if i'd read in his room for a bit tonight and i smiled as i looked down on his mop of hair.

I guess i could say it was one of those days but these days we're all having those kind of days. Yet sitting here, the I-mac sprawled on a couch, Nick Disaster flopped on a chair, the sounds of Scratch Perry sliding through the air, i mean what's there to do but smile and take a deep breath, remember to be here now cuz here is the only place i can be... now i gotta go read a book with my boy Nick D.