The Tragic Tale of Bill
Tuesday, May 9th, 2023 12:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
snoozefestaudioTurned off the alarm in my sleep and didn't wake up until 11:20AM this morning, but jumped out of bed to go make sure the timer was working.
Making my coffee, I could see out the back window upstairs that the sprinkler was indeed running!.. so, at least the timer wasn't accidentally on standby or some bullshit.
Me, Yvette, Snoop, and Prowly made it out into the back yard by 11:40, and I knew the bubbler was set to start at 11:45, so I waited.
It was a glorious spring morning out there. 65F and sunny with birds singing and church bells ringing.
Finally at 11:45, I heard a click and a spurt and went over to visually confirm that yes, THE BUBBLER STARTED AUTOMATICALLY!
So, finally, after struggling with it for three days, I've gotten the automatic two zone irrigation system to function correctly!
And I also visually confirmed that the grass seed mat is FINALLY starting to sprout thin little blades of grass througout it's width & breadth!
So [knocks wood]... it looks like the grass mat, and the Nuttall Oak are gonna be good to go from here on out!
I can leave everything run, and focus on other shit!
------------{=0=}------------
The S23 has shipped, as of this morning. And according to FedEx... who now texts me about their deliveries, because I set it up when I was worried about Natalie... it's coming tomorrow!
I'm not really ready for it to come that quick, but... okay!
The 5TB hard drive's already here, and, ironically, it's much smaller than the 1TB drive I bought a few years ago.
Guess I'll have to hook it up to this computer downstairs to backup the S10.
------------{=0=}------------
As for that peer of mine I mentioned last night, I checked Facebook, and it does appear to be legit. His family has set up a memorial page for him so... yeah.
His name was Bill, and he was my age. I met him at NIU in DeKalb way back in the fall of 1989, when we were both 20.
I fancied myself a musician and artist back then. Many of our mutual friends fancied themselves artists, poets, or musicians as well. And Bill played guitar and harmonica at the open stages, doing Bob Dylan covers.
But DeKalb is a spooky little town, out beyond the Chicago Metro, isolated by a vast ocean of corn. It's got NIU there, so it draws in young people from around the state, like Bill, and holds on to them, like a glue trap!
He wasn't the only person I knew who went there for school, and then just stayed in DeKalb the rest of their lives... just knocking around town, bar hopping, playing at little coffeehouses, going to afterparties to mingle with college girls, and drink until dawn.
But Bill really leaned into that life like few others.
It was like his full time job to just be all over town, all night, every night, in his folksy outfits, performing his Dylan covers, and his originals... that were identical to Dylan covers... singing in his oddly haunting, girlish voice... and then stumbling around drunk being tragic, and getting sucked into local drama, later at night.
Back in 89, everybody thought he was a rising star! The hippies, who back then were still in their 30s and early 40s, loved him to death, but his GenX peers also hailed him as a juggernaut of musical talent!
He was young, handsome, and had a charming, soft spoken personality that made him seem very approachable.
But, if you did approach, you found that he was rather aloof, and did not engage in pedestrian conversation.
More of a high priest of folk, than a regular folksy guy.
His popularity in DeKalb made it too easy just to stay there, and never evolve. He continued to be that 20 year old, for the next thirty-some years.
He was also cartoonishly romantic. He'd fall in love with a girl at first sight, and get insanely obsessed or depressed over her. Always love struck or heart broken. And he tended to get together with really abusive women.
Ten years ago, he wound up dating Erica, a woman I'd dated for a couple months back in the mid 1990s. And he messaged me on Facebook for advice about her.
She'd assaulted him with an iron skillet, and sent him to the ER. She was arrested for the assault, and he was telling me that he didn't want to press charges because he loved her so!
I told him to press charges, let her go to jail like she deserved, stay away from her forever, and for God's sake, stop putting up with that kind of abuse.
He of course, did not listen. Love won. Erica went free.
I never spoke to a mutual friend who wasn't worried about him.
Never heard somebody say, "I saw Bill last night and we had a great time! He's doing great!"
I remember Roger referring to him as, "A waste case." And that was 15 years ago.
Troy, accurately predicted he'd likely die one day in a drunken accident... again, over a decade ago.
--<>--
And then we came to Cinco De Mayo weekend, 2023.
The news reached me, via text, from Brian, at 4AM on Sunday morning.
According to Bri, some sketchy woman who claimed to be Bill's room mate, contacted him and said Bill had fallen down the steps outside, leading up to their second floor flat.
She purportedly said he was on the asphalt, calling for help, but that when an ambulance arrived, he refused to go to the ER, and... died on the spot.
It sounded fake to me at first because, how does a 53 year old man die from a fall down a flight of wooden steps to asphalt? But... I suppose he could've broken a rib and been bleeding internally, right?
It does make sense that he would refuse going to the ER... IF he was pushed down those steps, by the, "room mate," because he'd have known from experience that it would trigger her arrest.
And undoubtedly, he loved her too much for that to happen.
--<>--
So... a tragic character died tragically, I guess.
I blame the town. I've said for decades that nothing good ever happens in DeKalb.
In Bill's case, DeKalb was a pocket universe that allowed him to stay the hopeless romantic, and perpetual folk musician he fancied himself to be at twenty.
And in the end, that lack of growth, combined with the very sketchy nature of the people who inhabit that spooky town, did him in!
--<>--
I'm sad for Bill, but I also feel lucky, that I grew up enough to let go of music, learn usefull skills, and embrace others, like Dad, who I cared for in his old age.
I'm lucky that, at 53, my idea of a thrilling weekend is one where I get to plant a tree!
And that my idea of a fabulous Tuesday is one where I get the hose timer to function before I leave for my janitor job at an elementary school.
It's not a glamorous life... but I'm happy. And people never worry about me.
------------{=0=}------------
12:00AM
When I got home tonight, the bubbler indeed was running!
And I could hear water dripping off the leaves of the trees near the grass mat, so the sprinkler had run too!
This confirmed that the, "every 12 hour," part of the timer program is actually doing what I imagined it should do!
So, I can confidently say [knocks wood] that the irrigation timer is going to continue sprinkling the grass mat and bubbling the tree twice a day, from here on out!
At 11:15AM & PM, the grass mat gets a 25 minute soak.
And at 11:45AM & PM, Natalie gets a 12 minute bubble.
------------{=0=}------------
I'll leave it at that for tonight.
°¦}
https://soundcloud.com/snoozefestaudio
Making my coffee, I could see out the back window upstairs that the sprinkler was indeed running!.. so, at least the timer wasn't accidentally on standby or some bullshit.
Me, Yvette, Snoop, and Prowly made it out into the back yard by 11:40, and I knew the bubbler was set to start at 11:45, so I waited.
It was a glorious spring morning out there. 65F and sunny with birds singing and church bells ringing.
Finally at 11:45, I heard a click and a spurt and went over to visually confirm that yes, THE BUBBLER STARTED AUTOMATICALLY!
So, finally, after struggling with it for three days, I've gotten the automatic two zone irrigation system to function correctly!
And I also visually confirmed that the grass seed mat is FINALLY starting to sprout thin little blades of grass througout it's width & breadth!
So [knocks wood]... it looks like the grass mat, and the Nuttall Oak are gonna be good to go from here on out!
I can leave everything run, and focus on other shit!
The S23 has shipped, as of this morning. And according to FedEx... who now texts me about their deliveries, because I set it up when I was worried about Natalie... it's coming tomorrow!
I'm not really ready for it to come that quick, but... okay!
The 5TB hard drive's already here, and, ironically, it's much smaller than the 1TB drive I bought a few years ago.
Guess I'll have to hook it up to this computer downstairs to backup the S10.
As for that peer of mine I mentioned last night, I checked Facebook, and it does appear to be legit. His family has set up a memorial page for him so... yeah.
His name was Bill, and he was my age. I met him at NIU in DeKalb way back in the fall of 1989, when we were both 20.
I fancied myself a musician and artist back then. Many of our mutual friends fancied themselves artists, poets, or musicians as well. And Bill played guitar and harmonica at the open stages, doing Bob Dylan covers.
But DeKalb is a spooky little town, out beyond the Chicago Metro, isolated by a vast ocean of corn. It's got NIU there, so it draws in young people from around the state, like Bill, and holds on to them, like a glue trap!
He wasn't the only person I knew who went there for school, and then just stayed in DeKalb the rest of their lives... just knocking around town, bar hopping, playing at little coffeehouses, going to afterparties to mingle with college girls, and drink until dawn.
But Bill really leaned into that life like few others.
It was like his full time job to just be all over town, all night, every night, in his folksy outfits, performing his Dylan covers, and his originals... that were identical to Dylan covers... singing in his oddly haunting, girlish voice... and then stumbling around drunk being tragic, and getting sucked into local drama, later at night.
Back in 89, everybody thought he was a rising star! The hippies, who back then were still in their 30s and early 40s, loved him to death, but his GenX peers also hailed him as a juggernaut of musical talent!
He was young, handsome, and had a charming, soft spoken personality that made him seem very approachable.
But, if you did approach, you found that he was rather aloof, and did not engage in pedestrian conversation.
More of a high priest of folk, than a regular folksy guy.
His popularity in DeKalb made it too easy just to stay there, and never evolve. He continued to be that 20 year old, for the next thirty-some years.
He was also cartoonishly romantic. He'd fall in love with a girl at first sight, and get insanely obsessed or depressed over her. Always love struck or heart broken. And he tended to get together with really abusive women.
Ten years ago, he wound up dating Erica, a woman I'd dated for a couple months back in the mid 1990s. And he messaged me on Facebook for advice about her.
She'd assaulted him with an iron skillet, and sent him to the ER. She was arrested for the assault, and he was telling me that he didn't want to press charges because he loved her so!
I told him to press charges, let her go to jail like she deserved, stay away from her forever, and for God's sake, stop putting up with that kind of abuse.
He of course, did not listen. Love won. Erica went free.
I never spoke to a mutual friend who wasn't worried about him.
Never heard somebody say, "I saw Bill last night and we had a great time! He's doing great!"
I remember Roger referring to him as, "A waste case." And that was 15 years ago.
Troy, accurately predicted he'd likely die one day in a drunken accident... again, over a decade ago.
And then we came to Cinco De Mayo weekend, 2023.
The news reached me, via text, from Brian, at 4AM on Sunday morning.
According to Bri, some sketchy woman who claimed to be Bill's room mate, contacted him and said Bill had fallen down the steps outside, leading up to their second floor flat.
She purportedly said he was on the asphalt, calling for help, but that when an ambulance arrived, he refused to go to the ER, and... died on the spot.
It sounded fake to me at first because, how does a 53 year old man die from a fall down a flight of wooden steps to asphalt? But... I suppose he could've broken a rib and been bleeding internally, right?
It does make sense that he would refuse going to the ER... IF he was pushed down those steps, by the, "room mate," because he'd have known from experience that it would trigger her arrest.
And undoubtedly, he loved her too much for that to happen.
So... a tragic character died tragically, I guess.
I blame the town. I've said for decades that nothing good ever happens in DeKalb.
In Bill's case, DeKalb was a pocket universe that allowed him to stay the hopeless romantic, and perpetual folk musician he fancied himself to be at twenty.
And in the end, that lack of growth, combined with the very sketchy nature of the people who inhabit that spooky town, did him in!
I'm sad for Bill, but I also feel lucky, that I grew up enough to let go of music, learn usefull skills, and embrace others, like Dad, who I cared for in his old age.
I'm lucky that, at 53, my idea of a thrilling weekend is one where I get to plant a tree!
And that my idea of a fabulous Tuesday is one where I get the hose timer to function before I leave for my janitor job at an elementary school.
It's not a glamorous life... but I'm happy. And people never worry about me.
When I got home tonight, the bubbler indeed was running!
And I could hear water dripping off the leaves of the trees near the grass mat, so the sprinkler had run too!
This confirmed that the, "every 12 hour," part of the timer program is actually doing what I imagined it should do!
So, I can confidently say [knocks wood] that the irrigation timer is going to continue sprinkling the grass mat and bubbling the tree twice a day, from here on out!
At 11:15AM & PM, the grass mat gets a 25 minute soak.
And at 11:45AM & PM, Natalie gets a 12 minute bubble.
I'll leave it at that for tonight.
°¦}
