wickedflea | boring life update gives way to The Sanchez Chronicles

I always forget to save my good IM conversations.

goatsupreme and I had a nice chat last night about weird dadclothes, how to remove heel marks from a wall, and the unspeakable horror of albert71292 naked. (Page down a bit. Definitely not safe for work. This may in fact break your eyeballs. Do not fold, mutilate, or spindle.)

How is it that my really productive weeks go the slowest? When I'm slacking--not that I ever really slack, of course--the days go by like that, but when I'm working like crazy, the time be creepin'. Actually I don't know if that's always true, but it is this week. I don't mean to wish my life away or anything, but I'm just looking forward to getting some things done at home this weekend.

Jeez, I'm headed south next Friday. That seems weird. I'm looking forward to it, but not as much as last year for some reason. This year we're having Christmas at my grandmother's in Mississippi, so that will make things a lot easier because my dad's there too. Shuffling back and forth between Starkville and Chattanooga was kind of a bummer.

Oh, I almost forgot--thanks to everyone for the pledges and ideas for the Eddie Sanchez/Stevie Nicks/Wyld Phil project! I might wait until the first of the year to email the dude, but I WILL do it. This is going to be fantastic.

lunchboxface suggested that I should just let the guy use my face in the portrait, and of course that would be great, but I just know that it would end up being Exhibit A in some civil case. Or what if Stevie sent Mick Fleetwood out for me? That guy's old, but he's scary looking, and I just know he'd love to cut me.

Eddie Sanchez was actually involved in one previous court case. When my mom and stepdad ran The Willows, their antiques store in Starkville, they were co-defendants in a very peculiar case. The store was on Highway 82, which is one of the major ways to get across north Mississippi, and it was actually a couple of miles outside the city limits. Adjacent to the property was an area where several dumpsters were, so people were always coming and going at all hours. Oh yeah, and there was a billboard that stood way above the dumpsters. So one night some guy stopped in his pickup by the dumpsters area and wandered to the edge of the bushes to take a leak. And apparently on the ground there was an open power line that was somehow involved with the billboard. And yep, the guy pissed right on the power line and shocked the fuck out of himself. Naturally he hired a lwayer and proceeded to sue everyone in any way involved with either piece of property, from my mom and stepdad, to the owner of the building that housed the Willows, to whatever company owned the billboard, to whoever else he could think of. He invented all sorts of symptoms, like as a result of the accident he could barely read or hold down a job--and of course it turned out that he'd NEVER been able to read well or keep a job. So after a quite drawn-out legal battle--well, I can't remember exactly what happened, if the case was thrown out or if he just lost--but anyway, he didn't get any money from anyone.

But oh yeah, the Eddie Sanchez connection. Before all the legal stuff got really underway, I was at home one afternoon and got a call from some guy asking to speak with Eddie Sanchez. Now, I used to get a lot of mail under Eddie's name--record-company stuff, catalogues, etc., so I figured that he was just a telemarketer. Or maybe a bill collector from one of the record companies. "No, he's not home right now," I said. And then the guy started in: "Well, sir, I really need to get in touch with Mr. Sanchez. You see, I am a lawyer from Tupelo who represents Mr. Willie Robinson, and Mr. Robinson was shocked out at Willows Antiques, and Mr. Sanchez is listed as one of the owners . . ." But I didn't hear "Robinson was shocked"; I heard "Robinson was SHOT."

Oh my god, I thought--all these years of this "Rockin' Jailbird" charade have caught up with me. Some bastard has blown away somebody and FRAMED SANCHEZ. But Sanchez isn't real, so who's gonna go down?!? My mind reeled.

"SHOT?!?" I squawked.

No, no, the guy said, and explained the case. Oh, right, right, THAT guy. I was quite relieved. But still I had this lawyer who urgently wanted to speak with Eddie Sanchez. So what could I do? I guess I could have told him that Eddie had split for Tijuana, but in my addled state I could only sputter out the truth--that Eddie was a fictional character that my friends and I had created. Somehow the guy believed me. I guess it was too weird not to be true.

I still don't know how that lawyer got the information that Eddie was a co-owner of the Willows, though. That's always bugged me.

More on the origins and continuing legend of Eddie "The Rockin' Jailbird" Sanchez at another time. It's truly an amazing saga full of deception, love, hate, and unbridled enthusiasm.