by Tim Sampson

thursday, november 27

You know, I am not one bit right. I’m not even 40 yet and I have a knee that can predict the weather. People who talk to themselves follow me everywhere I go. I was at a bar the other night for one quiet, solitary, civilized martini, and a guy sat down next to me and began mock karate-chopping things in the air and saying, “Okay, I’m fine now. I need a beer. No, I don’t think I want one. What do you think about that red car outside? I’m okay now. Yeah. Yeah. No. I don’t like gin.” Then he began reading the labels of all the liquor bottles behind the bar –

I am still horrified at the thought of fake antlers as a fashion accessory.

because he’d just gotten his glasses back, I learned, when he finally spoke to me. Naturally, I struck up a conversation with him to see what else he would say, but he looked away, started karate-chopping at the bar-fruit container, and continued babbling. When he got up and left, I was terribly disappointed, and wanted to follow him. Like I said, I am not one bit right. Just this morning, I stopped at a convenience store. The woman at the cash register was talking to a delivery person who apparently was trying to flirt with her. I was barely awake. During the 60 seconds I was in line, she managed to look me dead in the eye and say, “I don’t need no man. I got me a condo at the Hamlets!” I immediately began thinking of her in the role of Hamlet. I couldn’t help it. I wanted desperately for her to start running about the store in her Circle-K jacket reciting Shakespeare while straightening the detergent boxes on the shelves. “And which pump dost thou want thy gas pumped from, my evil love slave? Oh, number two? I fear, my wandering lust-filled friend, that that pump no longer serves us as it should. But I give thee my life, my soul, my heart of hearts in this darkest of hours.” Then she rips open a box of Cheer, eats it, and dies, falling head-first into the shelf of Vienna sausages and pickles. It would be almost as good as the play opening next week at Shelby State, If Scrooge Was a Brother. The only holiday-related event that I plan to acknowledge. And speaking of the holidays, I guess they’re about here. Which means I’m going to become even less right. Someone called me the other day to see if Memphis magazine was running a holiday gift guide, and wanted to know if we would include their product: special underwear for incontinent people so they don’t have to wear adult diapers. It rendered me unable to speak without a stutter. And I am still horrified at the thought of fake antlers as a fashion accessory. I have a friend named Granny. I make homemade paté. I’m convinced my cat rolls her eyes at me. I want to go to the Church of Scientology. When I was little I had a quail-egg incubator but I turned it up too high and baked the eggs. I used to make my own fertilizer. My friends and I used to gather and then scatter and knock on every door on the street at the same time and then hide and watch as everyone walked out onto their porches looking confused. I like Gordon Lightfoot’s “Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald.” The thought of Nancy Kerrigan still makes my skin crawl. I know how to make a pipe out of a carrot. I tried to reverse my male pattern baldness once by putting sheep placenta on my head for two weeks. I have a friend who used to check herself into a mental hospital on a regular basis and receive shock treatments between hands of bridge and couldn’t remember what card she last played. Billy Jack changed my life. My washing machine is hooked up illegally. I used to wear a magnetic earring. I once began hallucinating at an Edgar Winter concert and thought the rows of people on the floor of the coliseum were crops. When my dad passed away (bless his sweet heart) we had to have him cremated on a Visa card. When I was really little he used to tell me that my Aunt Birdy buried her pet monkey with its tail sticking out of the ground and it would make me turn red and cry and scream all day. One time I had a cat (not the princess I have now who rolls her eyes at me) to whom I fed bologna, forgetting to remove the red plastic from around the edges; later I heard her yowling like someone was killing her, and when I found her she was trying to use the bathroom and the wrapper was coming out of her, well, just picture it. And picture having to pull it out. Like I said, I am not one bit right, and I think I’d better stop on that note before I say something that would lead people to think I shouldn’t be allowed around small children. Besides, it’s time to get around to what’s going on around town this week, just in case you have no life and need someone to tell you where to go. Of course, today is Thanksgiving, so you’ll probably spend most of the day eating with your family. Which means you’ll probably be ready to get out later. Just a few suggestions: Preston Shannon at Blues City Cafe, James Govan at Rum Boogie (those two are great if you’ve got guests in from out of town), the Wanderers at The Map Room, the Grifters and Blue Mountain at the New Daisy, and finally, if you’re out in Raleigh, the Neurotic Sex Pigs are playing at the Stage Stop. So there.

friday, november 28

For great shopping, check out the River Bluff Forge Council Holiday Show and Sale of art by local metalsmiths at Metalworks Design Studios on Broad Avenue. Or the Bringles Holiday Show and Sale of pottery at Cordova Cellars Winery. You could also kick off the season by going to the Christmas Tree Lighting at The Peabody. Or just forget the holidays and head down to Tunica for a concert by the queen of all country singers, Loretta Lynn. Back at home, check out Blue Silk at Kudzu’s, and/or the Phantom 5 Surfers and 68 Comeback at Young Avenue Deli.

saturday, november 29

If there’s one spot in Memphis that deserves some recognition for making this a more interesting place, it’s Java Cabana in Cooper-Young, and you help them celebrate their fifth anniversary tonight at a special party featuring live music by the Continentals and other guests. I’m sure there’s more to do, but I’m running out of space.

sunday, november 30

Art opening at The Map Room for an exhibit of works by Dan Zarnstorff. Chanticleer in concert at Calvary Episcopal Church. Anna Karenina showing at the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art. Reba Russell at B.B. King’s.

monday, december 1

A Day Without Art: World AIDS Day panel discussion at Rhodes in conjunction with Tim Andrews’ exhibit currently showing there. To See the Stars Instead of Night, a World AIDS Day concert at downtown’s First Presbyterian Church, featuring the Memphis Civic Orchestra and the Olivet Baptist Church Choir. For a holiday bash, check out the Center City Commission’s Miracle on Main Street, when Main Street Mall will be lit for the holidays; event includes live music, food, and more. Later, Calienté at Young Avenue Deli.

tuesday, december 2

Boxing on Beale at the New Daisy. Junior League of Memphis Holiday Bazaar at Memphis Botanic Gardens. Tsunami and Hot Monkey at Barristers.

wednesday, december 3

Bite me, for I know of nothing special going on today. Which matters not anyway because, as always, I couldn’t care less what you do, because I don’t even know you, and unless you can ban holiday music in public places, I’m sure I never want to meet you. Besides, it’s time for me to blow this maggot ranch. I need rest. Like I said, I’m not one bit right. n