Boxers Page 5
June 25, 1999
Subject Line: Life Goes On (?)
Hello Scrap, welcome from “The New Lantern” bookstore (wretch) thanks to the wonders of email. Here at “TNL,” minor Beat poet Hammerhead Hirsch is required to wear his beret–to give the place “color,” says the new boss! Here at “TNL,” H must wear a nametag saying “Head”, just as the greats, I’m sure, wore nametags like “Allen G.” and “Jack K.” at their Beat conventions at The Holiday Inn. And Head makes cappucino for yuppies now! Cool, huh?
June 25, 1999
Dear Spud,
Just freed up the scratch to go rhyme witch ya up in Frisco this weekend.
Friday,
Head
September 27, 1999
Dear Miss Terwilliger,
Thanks for your kind invitation to speak to my son’s class on Career Day. By way of introduction, since I guess “free spirit and child of god” is out of the question (haw), you can refer to me as a poet, bookstore cowboy, blues man, spoken word warrior, and political activist.
Lookin’ forward,
Hammerhead Hirsch
October 6, 1999
Dear Miss Terwilliger,
Many thanks for your kind thank-you card for my Career Day spiel to the kids, and if I may correct the teacher, the pleasure was mine. Still and all, I wonder if you could pass on an addendum to the kids, because when you asked me what “specifically” a political activist does, I spaced out and only mentioned collecting signatures for ballot propositions, and failed to mention marching against war (twice), marching for civil rights (back in the day), singing original protest songs on the Boardwalk (and letting Pete Seeger use my guitar in a pinch), and lots of participation in environmental groups and such. I think it’s good for the kids–especially the snickering ones–to get a fuller picture of what an “activist” does (and it wouldn’t do my own kid any harm, either, especially considering he was snickering right along with `em).
Respectfully,
H. Hirsch
October 15, 1999
Scrap, if that *!@!#! who bought The Lantern calls, tell him I want my severance pay NOW, or I’m gonna stick a baseball bat halfway up his butt!!
October 22, 1999
Scrap, I’ve hobbled on over to Walgreen’s for “da good stuff.” Give this check to the New Lord when he comes, and hide the dogs when you hear the door–he’s even less cool than the last guy (if possible).
Pa
November 15, 1999
Lissen, Scrap, you better not have blown my percodin money on your so-called “graphic novels,” my back’s acting up like a mother fumpfer!
P.S. Your grades might improve if you’d read a REAL fuggin’ book for a change!
The North Pole
December 25, 1999
Dear Scrapple,
Here’s twenty-two bucks, go on over to Walgreen’s and get yourself somethin’. It may seem cheap, but remember, twenty-four bucks is a lotta dough to some folks. And don’t wake your pop, he ain’t slept right in days.
Your pal,
Santa
January 23, 2000
Dear Lenny,
The reason you and Howie can’t go with Rex on his sleepovers at Ant Bonnie’s is, her dark lord don’t allow dawgs in the building. But remember, these sleepovers are really good for your kid, `cause his ant really loves him–plus, you know he don’t like my new friend Charisse.
Love,
Pop
February 15, 2000
Dear Lenny,
I know you’re used to your spot on the couch, but be real: it was Valentine’s Day, and it’s pretty damn normal for a man and his lady to sit next to each other. So, to be frank, yes, you should’ve gotten down for Ant Charisse (I know, I know, she ain’t a “for real” ant–so what!). And while we’re on the subject, your boy shouldn’t have made those snide remarks about her, for his information she probably hates Britney Spears even more than he does. Tell you the truth, Lenny, it reminds me of your comedy career: your anger was cool when you first started out, but once you started reading from your obscenity trial onstage you weren’t funny at all, just a strange, bitter man.
Respectfully,
The Man of the House
March 18, 2000
Dear Scrapple:
Hearty congrats! Another bird has flown the asylum! And don’t bother asking me to pass on another weak-ass apology, it wouldn’t do one damn bit of good.
Dad
March 22, 2000: Mirror Mantra
To thine own self be true.
From: hhirsch@greenscene.com
To: boxerboyz@lafreenet.com
Date:April 13, 2000
Subject: Dot.Com Dad
Hiya Scrap,
And hello there from Hi-Tech Hirsch. It’s kinda cool out here in th’ Internet, though truth be told, it seems to me like not much more than a fancy kind of mail order biz. Anyways, everyone’s hustling like mad here, there’s foosball and a video game and a lot of pretty people a lot younger than me, and I guess it’s kinda cool writing articles for publication, even if they’re just reviews of sprinklers and shears. Have some grubs, and c’ya `bout six.
Love, Pop
www.greenscene.com
April 27, 2000
Dear Coach Reese:
If the star pitcher of the Parkside Orioles says I’m a cockeyed dwarf, who am I to disagree? As for my son adding, “He’s a troll, not a dwarf!,” boys will be boys! Sorry I can’t help coach anymore, the demands on my time are just too great.
Rounding third and heading for home,
Mr. Hirsch
April 28, 2000
Here’s a scrap for your scrapbook, Scrap, a little proof that, yeah, your dad was a “for real” boxer once’t (I was a “for real” poet, too, but I wasn’t much about clippings and prizes and all that modern “self esteem” b.s.).
May 8, 1964, Region 3, Golden Gloves Tourney.
Middleweight champ, 17-18 Age Group,
Hillel Hirsch, Culver City.
From: hhirsch@greenscene.com
Date: May 14, 2000
To: boxerboyz@lafreenet.com
Subject: Keepin’ It Real
Scrapper, click this link, then click the link at the bottom of the page on “Organic Gardening,” then scroll down to the review of the composter: that’s mine! ;o) I finally got a “meeting,” so-called, to suggest some richer “content” (“content,” they call it!), like nature-oriented poetry, and articles about the abuses of agribusiness and suchlike, but all I got was a pat on my old gray head and a lesson in “metrics” from a pantsuit.
Pop
May 21, 2000
Happy 10th, Rexness. My, oh my, the Big 1-0! A decade, dude! A strike! Ten pins! Man, oh, man, have you gotten big. Seriously, kid, you amaze me. You’re a green belt at 10, you’re bearing down on four-eleven, and more importantly, you’ve got that same mental toughness, that same precocious maturity you’ve always had. You’re gonna be a fine man, young fella, able to take on whatever life brings you.
Your Forever Fan,
Dad
August 5, 2000: Note On Head’s Bedroom Door
Rex, walk the dawgs and get yourself dinner. And let me sleep in, my back’s killing me (don’t worry, “Green Effin Scene” and I are history, I got nowheres to go anyways.)
Dad
August 15, 2000
Hey Spud,
I’m lookin’ good for Seattle and beyond.
H
September 1, 2000
Hey Scrap,
You know what Ant Bonnie said about you today? She said you are a “very old soul.” That’s major kudos, big guy.
September 24, 2000
Good news, Scrap, Ant Bonnie has put a few things in order, and she’ll be able ta spend MUCH more time with you soon–just like you’ve always wanted, amigo.
P:o)p
October 1, 2000: Note on the Pillow
Dear Son,
I’m sorry I left without saying goodbye. I’ve gone aw
ay on a mission for I don’t know how long, to find something huge that I lost years ago. Ant Bonnie’ll be living with you now, and that’s so great, `cause you’ve said a zillion times (at least) that you love her! And she loves you, too–like her very own son, my man! Everything’s arranged for her to take great care of you (not that you need much “care,” you’re so incredibly strong!). And guess what? She’s getting you a new boxer pup! I wish I could be here to see it, man.
All my love, always,
Pa
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