Most people assume that The Sopranos was based on a fictitious Jersey based mob family. I wasn't. It was actually inspired by a family in Utah who owned a furniture business. At first it would seem like those two worlds would have very little to do with each other, but I'm here to tell you, as a person very familiar with the Utah furniture family, having been a tenant of theirs in their gigantic warehouse that has been divided haphazardly into small apartments mostly rented to artists and Utah's apostate community, them fuckers know the art of intimidation. The walls were all crooked, the floors were slanted and trash and thrift store style valuables were piled all over the place. People drove their cars up and down the hallways all willy nilly like it was a driveway. Anyway, I can tell you that they rule with the same kind of fear tactics and brazen violence as your TV pals.
For instance, recently I returned to Utah to remove the rest of my stuff out of the slum warehouse I mentioned. As I was moving out I noticed a rug was missing. I't was one of those really cool rugs from the 70s that were made to look like old italian tapestries only instead they had a deer or Elvis printed on them. Mine had a couple of ladies in swimming suits on it. I knew not to investigate. Fucking organized crime. So glad I moved out of Utah.
Plus my other blue rug was had totally been eaten by moths. Exactly. Total mob scare tactic.
In different news, I went out into the back yard to write a song I had in my head all week, but once I got out there all situated at the desk by the plum tree I got distracted by the hose. I placed the nozzle on the desk and let the water pool out over my notebook, I tried to write on the paper with the water pouring all over it but it wasn't working very well, the paper had too much sponginess and the tip of my pen was getting stuck on the upstrokes. Besides, my nosey neighbors were laser beaming the back of my head with their nosey neighbor stares so I couldn't concentrate on the song, which sucks because when I talked to Prince on the phone I told him I'd have it ready by the end of the day.
"Don't act like that.
Don't act at all.
You're an awful actor."
Not much of a poem but that was all was able to rub into the wet paper. The only reason I could even read it was because I wrote it. I squeezed out the paper and the bluish ink water into my mouth because I didn't want anyone else to see what crap I had written and I thought maybe it might be cool to drink my own lame poem. It was fizzy.
Kinda defeats the purpose by re-writing it here. What the fuck do I care.
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