Call of duty 3 pc\.

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Care Package, Airdrop a random killstreak.

I'm Always Chasing Rainbows

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One of the great pleasures of the last year or two has been performing at long term care facilities. Not only do I get a chance to play nice pianos for a captive audience but once in a while a resident will interrupt the final chorus of "Moon River" to request a song. At the Clipper Home a man as white as a bed sheet croaked up, "Do you know Honeysuckle Rose?" and I really had to work to sight read that one but on the third try I played a passable melody. Today the song was the obscure "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows" from 1918, revived by Andy Williams in 1965 and then forgotten...except by 90 year old Texas gentlemen.



Honestly, the request was more like this:
"Do...you...melody...something like that...up...down?"
Oggy thinks, "I need a bit more info, old chap."
"Good song..."
"Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head? By Burt Bacharach? I've got that."
"No."
"All of Me?"
"No. The melody..."
"Is it from Broadway? Some Enchanted Evening? I've Grown Accustomed To..."
"Rainbows....Chasing Rainbows..."
"I'm Always Chasing Rainbows?"
"Yes. Do you know that?"
"Not from memory."

It's been 4 weeks of trying to play piano at this place that is directly across the street. I basically ignored any problems with the apartment (rats running like uncaged bats in the attic, bi-curious landlord, no shower, a mattress with springs popping out of the fabric, 30 year old decor) because when I visited the old age home there was a nearly brand new baby grand piano in perfect working condition. I played two notes and my knees melted. It's a $30K piano that the family of a resident who has passed on donated in typical Texan fashion by going to a piano showroom and asking for the most expensive piano in stock. Few instruments make the player better but this is one of those instruments and out of courtesy I tried to get the entertainment director to call me back to no avail. 4 weeks of me going over there every other day and leaving notes with my phone number and knowing no one is playing that fine piano like a beautiful stripper hanging out alone and naked in a bathroom. Finally, I figured it was Friday and I had a day off and instead of getting my driver's license switched to Texas I took my sheet music and put on a clean sweater and marched over there. Of course she took an early day off but the RN took mercy on me and said, "Come back at dinner. 5:15." I nodded and showed up at 5:15 with an arm full of sheet music. I found a whole crowd of crippled men and women with walkers wearing baby blue cardigan sweaters waiting for me. I fumbled around with my books and heard one of the women whisper, "I don't think he's ever played before."
Ok, it would be a tough audience and as my opening song I played Pachabel's Canon in D because I can fake that song all day long and get the audience on my side.

My internet access is too limited to upload video but trust me when I say it was a safe performance. No Jerry Lee Lewis or endless verses of the Layla piano outro. That will come later. Today was safe pieces like "Bill Bailey" and "Weekend in New England" by Barry Manilow. I kept them entertained for a while and tried to remember how to play piano. Some people turn 30 years old and plan their careers and their families. I plotted out how exactly I would play pop piano at old age homes and believe me it required some severe austerity measures considering I could only play one song ten years ago. Like I tell adults when they ask me to teach them to play blues guitar. "You can do it, but it will require total commitment to irresponsibility."

The request for "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows" is funny because as soon as he requested it I knew I owned the music since I specifically purchased an Andy Williams songbook for that song thinking I could turn it into an Oggy theme song. "My schemes are just like all my dreams, ending in the sky." Of course it's not a song for solo guitar and I've had no access to a piano because society views me as a disgusting dirtbag, so I've carried this stupid Andy Williams songbook from New Brunswick to Texas but I didn't take it to the old age home so I told him he'd have to wait. Then a woman stopped by the piano to thank me and browsed my books of sheet music.
"Bob Wills?" she immediately exclaimed.
It's hard to imagine these men and women lived during the western swing dance era when basically 100% of Texans would swing dance for hours a day as recreation. Western Swing was invented in San Antonio. This was before Big Red soda crippled the health of the South. It's a rare day when all the handicap wheelchairs are not occupied by wide-assed 400 lb folks at the supermarket with crates of Big Red ("The Official Soft Drink of The Texas Diabetes Society") in their basket. It's pure poison and I'm not in favor of prohibition but this shit is more dangerous than crystal meth. It's bewildering how it is not illegal. I took a sip of someone's soda at work and literally had to spit it out. I've never been so repulsed by something so popular except when it comes to Hannah Montana and Justin Beiber and Twilight.

But I digress. I got my Bob Wills book and looked at the 90 year old woman, "You want to hear some Western Swing?" I felt it would be violating some rules but I quickly acquiesced. "Ok."
And I had never played "Bring it on Home to My House" except on guitar but that song really swings on the piano. I had to sing it because the proper tempo is beyond my sight reading abilities to play the melody. My painfully slow rendition of "You Are So Beautiful" pretty much put everyone to sleep (I actually heard snoring in the dining room), but this Bob Wills song woke them back up. I ended with "The Night Life ain't the Good Life, But it's My Life"

If anyone wants to sing with me that would be great. This is one rainbow I finally caught.

I'll Be Home For Chrsitmas

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I had a request for some songs and it took some time to get it together and upload it but here's "I'll be Home For Christmas" as performed at the old age home. It's the only sheet music I had in my collection. The sad news is that when I tried to tackle an uptempo version of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer, the 87 year old Minnie couldn't help but feel that Christmas spirit and started to dance. She is generally wheelchair bound so I had to slow the Reindeer pack down but it was too late and Minnie had already injured her knee and run out of breath. I really want to die a merciful death early and painlessly rather than have a front row seat to my own decay.
It's one of the great miracles that the virgin birth of a man 2012 years ago on the opposite side of the world somehow is celebrated with songs about flying ungulates in North America.
This makes no sense. I got a pair of socks and some strong painkillers in my stocking.

Elemental Failure

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Can you see the problem?

My education in HVAC continues in the worst way possible. 50+ years after this Eisenhower era heating unit was installed I arrive and it immediately breaks. Not pictured is the shower of sparks that occurred when I tried to stretch the coil to fit again and caused mayhem. Three of the four elements are toast. It looks like a $10 part and probably was in 1965. Today, I'm literally going to have to start my own reality show in order to hunt this part down. For those Russians searching my blog to spam me with worthless Gucci perfume ads THE LEAST YOU CAN DO is hunt through your soviet scrap heaps for something similar and mail it to me. This is a Sears Air Handler and the sears Service techs laughed at me when I read them the part number. 493.58703. They were like, "Where are the other five numbers?....Oh, you mean it's from 1957 and you want replacement parts? Do I sound like an antique dealer?"



I'm angry because I almost electrocuted myself and no service place will help and they will all come here for $100 to laugh at me and tell me I need to replace the whole unit...which any idiot could tell me but I need to know how to repair it. And in a perfect world this part would still exist but I had to move into the only unimproved house in all of Texas so they still have original heating system. The old man is freezing, can't afford a pair of socks, and I know I'm the only who can fix this but it's actually not fixable in this decade. It would be easier to build a time machines and return to 1970 to buy the parts...but I know I'd get sidetracked trying to track down my mother to get her drunk so maybe she would miscarry me and I could avoid these petty problems.....But really it's merely a fancy space heater with five of these coils mounted on top of a fan. Real high tech. The coils get 240v and glow red hot while the fan blows. Then a family of rats climb in there to get warm and their claws break the coils and Oggy is left to repair it. I'm out of options right now. No parts dealer in Texas has even seen this part. I can't solder it because the solder will melt when it turns on. The only thing I can do is stretch it fit again. Or, since I have two working elements, I'll use those two. fuck it.

Resolutions

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The arthritis in my neck keeps my head bowed in reverence for the demise of humanity. But it's not on purpose. I spent too much time looking at my past below my feet and my neck got stuck in that position. January 1st is a time to look forward because regardless of whatever Irish or Chinese railroad crew was slaughtered because the contractor didn't want to pay them, time plods on and the living can either gripe about past injustices or move on.

I trained myself to methodically record every event in my life so I could later write about it in profound and original ways. This proved to be a double-edged sword because while I got all the details right I couldn't find the pause button on the universal remote control of my life's narrative. I still can't and small gestures and slights and smells and dogs licking lips and paws bleeding and tones of voice in deceitful packages still return to me unwanted when I'm merely laying in bed dreaming of Mexico or mocking television programs. Simply put, I don't have more than five minutes of peace in any day. This burden allows me easy access to the past like a painter using a limitless canvas but imagine if that canvas followed you around all day every day and haunted your dreams... My determination to extract the narrative of my life into a Nutria Cajun Moonshine Sauce has gone too far and I don't see a solution. If it means a decline in my writing then I can't compromise. Nothing will deter me from the completion of my Oggy Saga. But the pursuit of my Oggy Saga is poised to ruin everything.

I've been watching survival shows and the Acronym "STOP" means
S---Situation
T----Threats
O----Observe
P----Plan

Ok, I'm going to apply that to my present survival situation. Usually I trace my path to my present situation on New Years Day and make absolutely no plans for the future. I know it's amusing to watch me go from processing Lobsters in Maine at this time last year, through a tornado ravaged N.Y. and Penn to a Missouri basement and processing IRS tax returns and then fleeing to go to Guatemala through the drought blighted Oklahoma to Austin where I suffered beyond all my limits in 120 degrees and in desperation and penniless going to the desert to slaughter hogs but ending up on the beach in Corpus Christi sick as a poisoned dolphin, alone, deaf, blind, dying...and then becoming a maintenance man at a trailer park and then fixing Goldwing motorcycles at a junk yard... washing from a hose...until the oil field beckoned and I followed the money into hazard beyond hazard that only ended when the whole company was charged with $8 million embezzlement by a notoriously crooked energy company who is actually destroying the global atmosphere while the world watches Storage Wars.
 It's enough to make me forget that in 2011 I managed to drive a 41 year old van to Labrador after 2 years of struggle and border wars.

I don't think it's inaccurate to say that if I had done any planning at all then my whole 2012 narrative would've turned out different. But the problem with crisis situations is that there is no time to plan, no money, no energy and no experience. I'm a child raising himself in a carnival.

Survey Situation -- I'm in a small town in the desert in a house with a tiny bit of heat from an electric furnace that I fixed. I have ordered new restring elements that should solve the heat problem for this winter. The room is cold but it has electricity. The van has a worn transmission. The bands are all slipping. But I have my moped and I have the money and time and skill to rebuild the transmission. I have no pressing engagements.

Threats - arthritis in the neck and spine may prove my undoing. Too much sitting in a chair typing/jerking off and too much driving in futile circles. 8 hours of driving to do 3 hours of work. I got a $600 check for two days of work and all we did was dig two holes. But those two holes were 700 miles from here and we were surrounded by Hydrogen Sulfide gas released by fracking projects. But H2S isn't present in my bedroom. Brown Recluse spiders are all around me. My Tinnitus is going to make me go crazy and I'm looking at a $3000 hearing aid in the hopes it will help. The three dogs are safe now that I have bribed them with biscuits. Two are on death's door.

Observe - Uvalde has few resources but with some networking I can get a garage to use for the transmission project. There's a pawn store where I can hawk my remaining pride. I need to be mobile because if I can't find a job in January then I have to make plans. Also, there are no music teachers in Uvalde.

Plan- Get the parts for the transmission project. It's $150 for all the gaskets and bands and pads. a total rebuild will cost around $300 in parts and two weeks labor. Find a place to do this with a transmission jack.
*Tune the piano. I could easily make money teaching piano in this town. the closest music teacher is 60 miles away. Tuning pianos isn't fun. if it were fun it wouldn't be called a job. there are 88 keys. half of those have three strings each. You have to tune about 200 strings total in a mathematical stretching of octaves and counting beats and hammering each note fifty times to set it. But get it done because right now I've tuned 1 of 6 octaves and the piano sounds worse than ever if I deviate from the 12 keys in tune.
*The two best screenplay ideas I've got need to be finished this year.
*The Crystal Circus has become a circus trying to write. If I really wanted to finish this story then would I keep leaving places with electricity? Please make this a priority.
*If the oil field job calls back then don't answer the phone. I'm lucky to have gotten out alive.
*Having just received $500 in music software along with a new computer I need to record the few songs I have written...especially the Bread and Circus song. There will be no money earned but it's my contribution to the world of art.

Planning isn't hard.

*Shit, I totally forgot that the whole reason I got the new computer was so I could edit the 50 hours of footage from the trip to Labrador....which is rotting in a digital vault. Has anyone noticed that I don't have my shit together? Why didn't anyone say anything?

Nuclear Family

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American Mythology

Since I've injured my back I've had some time to watch television and I'm repulsed almost the entire time I'm watching. Either we represent ourselves as gross and superstitious or we're too dumb to realize that's how we represent ourselves. This manual for the long extinct Sears Roebuck central air conditioner represents some kind of clue to our collective self image but I need help because my spirits are low and my condition is getting worse. I lack motivation and am not invested in our society, yet 6 year-old kids getting slaughtered makes me cry.

archaic schematic

I want to learn about this HVAC system but only to the point that I can fix this one out of date unit. I don't want to "go into business" fixing other people's heating units because that seems like a defeat and an abandonment of philosophical principles. It's like entering the world these people live in with the 3'' heel on the housewife bringing dinner to her husband like a pharaoh's slut while generic "daughter" plays with other Sears accessories. I'll be wifey likes her red baboon ass spanked when she gets fucked. hahahah. Is that a boy outside in the Saguaro cactus desert with a sled? Yeah, that makes sense. Nixon sent him off to Vietnam to act as a speed bump to runaway Communism. "Family Provided By Sears" It's all a myth like the ghosts who chase those flim flam reality ghost hunters on tv.

fan relay

I'll be the guy in the blue uniform who arrives at the door with my tool bag to fix your HVAC system. Serious HVAC repair requires so much training that you don't do anything but repair HVAC.

If you see me like this then you're an asshole.

Everything in its proper box for conventional Democrats who dick around while ALL THE WATER IS POISONED TO PURSUE OIL...Shit, at least I worked for the enemy. I didn't fuck around with my thumb up my ass learning new words on my spell check app. I'm so disgusted by cowardice and selfish inaction. Petty concerns are still petty concerns even when they are on a 92'' flat screen tv. You're still an asshole if a million people subscribe to your youtube channel to hear you review The Hobbit.

Plea

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I'm broken. This is basic HVAC wiring. HVAC 101 and I have flunked. It irks me that neglect and ignorance lands me in a frozen house. It also irks me that after 24 years as a devoted art and speech teacher in public schools, the owner of this decaying house doesn't have any money. He is flat broke...living one month to the next, literally eating at a senior nutrition center and getting week old bread. The only income he has is my rent and his Social Security hahahah. 24 years in public schools and he gets excited for cupcakes that had all the frosting scraped off them when someone dropped them at the grocery store. He's had a leaking heart repaired, two bypass surgeries...gout...blindness and senility and today I walked in to the kitchen to write down this sketch and all the burners on the stove were glowing red hot as he tried to stay warm. Of course he wasn't in the kitchen since it was still freezing cold. The heating system is only fixable by someone like me because a licensed pro couldn't be liable for working on it. and he'd know it would cost less to replace it. but the house isn't going to last so a new heating system makes no sense. but the persistence of our blood and mind as it painfully stumbles along in any condition can't be ignored. My labor is free so that's the big difference.

real funny stuff as Oggy electrocutes himself

The other tenants could not be more worthless or oblivious. one actually says he may have his right leg amputated after getting bitten by a brown recluse in the wood shed (his bedroom). The other can't pay me back $40 from three weeks ago...and the things he left as collateral are junk bones and arrowhead shaped rocks. I watch the reality shows on TV and it's not even a contest between my life and the lives of the reality show subjects. My life is like a combination of three or four reality shows...barter wars...mental illness, ice road truckers...addiction...hoarders...poverty. And all I want to know is what broke in this schematic. God let me fix this heating system before the house burns down! Better yet, how do I wire the blower motor to come on when the heat comes on.

revised schematic

for those who care, the only way I can post these pictures TO PEOPLE WHO ACTUALLY TRY TO HELP ME on my DIY forum is to upload them here and then post the link in the DIY forum. obviously the people who read my blog are totally useless pansies who couldn't tell the difference between 24v solar panel system and a pair of sunglasses BECAUSE THEY ARE FUCKING ASSHOLES WHO DO NOTHING BUT COLLECT CHECKS AND WATCH OGGY SUFFER. TO Think that of all the 6 people who read this NOT ONE CAN EXPLAIN TO ME SIMPLY HOW TO TROUBLESHOOT THIS SYSTEM. How pathetic. We are a nation of used car salesmen who middlemen ethics to the lowest auction bidder. total cunts with no value. I almost resent the fact I have to post these practical pictures on my blog in order to share them with people who actually can do something with their life and don't just mark the days with dunkin donuts munchkins to fatten their chins and pot bellies some more so they need to buy larger and larger chinese made Old Navy sweatshirts. so disgusting and repulsive to drive in meaningless circles. you cheapskates and fuckwads!

revised schematic #2