Several months ago, I awoke early one Saturday morning to find Paloma hanging out the living room window. Through my pre-coffee haze of grogginess, she explained that she had brought home a stray kitten and the feral creature had made a break for it – out the open window, onto the eave, and down a tree.
When the kitten returned the following morning, again in early morning hijinks, Paloma took it as a sign from the universe that the stray should be added to our menagerie. She looked to me for confirmation.
“I get to name her.” Thus, Pizza is now not only a delightful meal but the moniker of our smallest roommate.
Since her arrival, the fits of hyperactive, manic behavior by Pizza has inspired my completely non-sensical and totally unserious threat to box her up and FedEx her to Gary Busey.
I, for one, would not want to be under the supervision and authority (or even in close proximity) to Gary Busey. He seems to be just a bit too zany in 3D for my personal taste or piece of mind.
Of course, the idea of the always calm, cool, and collected Busey opening a box containing a wild, stray kitten that had been shipped cross country has incredible potential for comedic value. I picture it as some demented cartoon from the ’50s come to life.
My thoughts turned to Mr. Busey this morning as I read the news and an article about a family in Pennsylvania. Some hobo-type had lived in their attic for several days before they discovered him.
The tale mirrored the plot of one of Busey’s films brought to life – a little flick which I had the pleasure of watching called Hider In The House. His performance in the title role was something to behold. I truly believed that somewhere Gary Busey had been living some family’s attic, eating their porridge and stuff.
I suppose that it you had to choose between a total stranger and Gary Busey to be hiding in your attic, taking your chances with the stranger might be the smart move.
And as I read the news story, I wondered the same thing I did years ago when I saw Hider In The House – is it logistically possible that a psychopathic stranger (or Gary Busey) could live, undetected, in our attic for any length of time?
I have no “attic” songs, so here are a few songs by other Garys that may or may not be living in someone’s attic.
Gary Myrick & Havana 3AM – Havana
I knew Gary Myrick from a couple of songs on the soundtrack to the ’80s classic Valley Girl and, about ten years ago, I received a promo copy of his album Texas Glitter & Tombstone Tales. It was a pleasant surprise. Hardly the New Wave-tinged rock of the stuff I knew, it was more rockabilly inflected (although Havana has a more laid-back, Southwestern cantina vibe to it).
Gary Numan – Cars
Paloma and I recently snagged a couple of Gary Numan albums on vinyl, but Cars is an iconic track from the ’80s that still sounds spectacular nearly thirty years later.
Gary Wright – Love Is Alive
Wayne’s World or no Wayne’s World, I never was very taken with Dreamweaver. I much prefer the other two songs I know by Gary Wright, Really Wanna Know You and this one.
Gary “U.S.” Bonds – This Little Girl
I know that Gary Bonds had a run of hits in the ’60s, but I couldn’t name one or necessarily know one if I heard it. However, This Little Girl was constantly on the radio in the autumn of 1981 and its a fantastic pop song. I suppose it didn’t hurt that Bruce Springsteen wrote, produced, and appears on it.