more from the road

She and Patrick arrived in the driving rain. the wipers could not keep up as the rain poured from the heavens in large sheets. water was coming in everywhere into the old truck. from around the doors and through the windshield seal, running in ribbons down the inside of the glass dripping off of the dash only to pool on the rusty floor then finding its way to holes and back out on to the road. out of the rain storm they saw an oasis of light, a shining neon beacon of safty in the night. they pulled in the parking lot and parked, looked at each other and ducked out into the rain. they came out of the rain into the motel office. a man shuffled out from a back room, lit on by the light of a television. he was short, squat and balding. his once white undershirt now grey and stained from years of washing his own clothes and spilling his food while he ate. he wasn't there to make money, he was there because there was no where else to go in this town. he had worked for the motel since he graduated high school, just for the summer, but he never made it away. now years later he was not just the night shift manager, but he was the manager, and maintenance man. the exposed skin spilling from his shirt had a greasy sheen that matched his greasy hair, what little was left. he didn't speak to the them when they approached the counter, he just stood there with a blank expression, waiting for the ritual to continue so that he might get back to more important things. like watching sports and drinking his last beer for the night. Patrick asked for a room and the man flatly replied, 35 dollars while sliding a check-in card towards them. Patrick filled out a the card while the man fumbled to find a key and then handed him the money. almost as an afterthought the man gestured over Patrick and the girl's shoulders and grunted, second building on the left, check out is at 12.

Can't Hardly Stand It

Can't Hardly Stand It :Charlie Feathers

Well, the sun's gone down
And you're uptown
And you're just out runnin' around

(Chorus:)
I can't hardly stand it
You're troublin' me
I can't hardly stand
It just can't be
Well, you don't know, a-babe I love you so
You got me all tore up, all tore up

You say you're trough with me
You're settin' me free
You're just out with your used-to-be

(Chorus)

Well, my spirit's low
I love (miss) you so
I stand alone and watch you go

(Chorus)

Well, now that you are gone
And I'm alone
All I do is sit and moan

(Chorus)

Baby, all tore up
Baby, all tore up
All tore up...

well crap i can't believe i have to get over it again. i thought i had suffiectly braced and reinforced my fragile heart. the image i have in my head is of a bloddy heart laying on a table or maybe hung on a wall, wrapped in metal strapping tape, wire and screws, all held up by a couple of 2 by 4's. the ends of the boards covered in blood, the sheen of the cold galvinized industrial metal glistening with coagulating life. strong and unyeilding. but in one fell swoop it was all ripped off, and thrown to the floor with our clothes. i don't know if that was the intended purpose or not. but i suddenely feel naked and vunerable and confused. of course mybe i brought this all upon myself. hopefully i can get passed this and move on. maybe i reading too much into this. maybe it was just sex. maybe it doesn't mean anything.

so i have begun the long arduous task of going thru my life agin. i do this from time to time. for some reason i tend to go thru the same stuff over and over. today i went through pictures. and i threw alot away. i threw away some from a forgotten trip to the woods. i don't where or when they were taken. so they got thrown out. i have so much paperwork from the military, and i have gone thru it from time to time, and everytime i find more papers that i thought were important at one time but now i find them completley useless and a waste of space. space. this is why i've begun this again. i have run out of space. i lost a room in my house to my bestfriend, now roomate, and i no longer have the space to store the scraps of my life. i'm workign to a point where i can load everything i own into the back of a truck and leave. some day i hope to start over. brand new life, brand new friends. brand new everything. and to do this i have to find the strength to let go of my past. from time to time i hate my past. i made chioces that i'm no longer happy i made.

but i guess you can't run from your past can ya?

yeah i thought i could go a week with out drinking. who the hell was i kidding. i went 2 days. on weds. i went out, and had a bourben and coke. big mistake. i thought i could handle it. and actually i could. i didn't even finish my drink at dinner. but then i went out for drinks, i had two. during the middle of my second i ordered a glsass of water. but afterwards i went home, got my roommate, went out for a few more, then we went home and drank till 5am. i realized i love the way bourbon washes over my mouth, and over my body. it's sweet and bitter just like a woman. i decided that i cannot not drink right now. i love it way too much. i love the bitter sweet flavor, the wetness in my mouth and the warmth on my throat. the shiver down my back and the buzzz in my head. goodnight.

what a weekend. live music, Hot Rods, bikes, and a ton of rain. i'm hurting like hell today. i've got bruises all over my body, a black eye, and huge gash across my nose. i was told that i fell down more than i was standing. fun stuff. this may be the incentive i need to stop drinking. i don't know if can do it or not. i know i can go a shift at the T, with out drinking, i can work with out drinking. i but i don't know if i can go out without drinking.

oh well. i didn't go to jail.

create your own personalized map of the USA
or write about it on the open travel guide

Work

Work work and more work. but i did take the weekend off and go party. but back to work.

Happy Birthday to me!
for my birthday today i had a steak breafast/dinner when i got home from work last night, and as a special treat, before i went to bed, i turned turned the A/C on, set it to ice and got the best nights sleep i have had in months. i'll have to turn it off before i go to work, but it is nice to curl up in my big blanket and sleep. on the flip side, i ended up sleeping most of the day and now i'm about 3 hrs behind schedule. oh well, fuck it it's my birthday.

he drove into the west Texas sunset. she sat next to him in the truck. it was late July. hot, sticky and just plain grueling. the old truck had no A/C and with the chopped top the windows only hinted at the breeze blowing past the windows at 70 miles an hour. the truck rocked and creaked as the open header pipes bellowed their arrival on the road to points unknown. where were they going? she didn't know and neither did he. he knew that where ever it was it wasn't where they'd been the night before. before the fight. before the whiskey. before it all went terribly wrong.
Patrick had the day off. a rarity these days. he was trying like mad to pay his bills and rebuild his broken bike. it had broken a long time ago and the stream of broken hearts and broken whiskey bottles had left him in debt and with out his beloved chopper. he sat in his home watching TV occasionally staring out the window to the garage. the padlock was beginning to shown signs of weather, and the leaves were piling against the door from un-use. he decide he needed a drink. not just any drink would do. it had to be a good one. not one could make himself. but one that was made just for him. a drink that would take his breath away and absolve him of all his fears. so he combed back his greasy hair, dusted of his cowboy boots and headed out the door to find his solace in the bottom of a glass.
when he got to the bar it was just the way he wanted. loud, dirty, ugly punk rock made it's way from the stage and filtered through the patrons souls and out in the night. the doorman gave him a handshake and smile and let him on thru. he went straight to the bar and waited for the magic elixirs to be handed him in the grim dark light and swirling noise. that was when he noticed her. she was standing next to the jukebox as if she knew, and purposely stood there to bath in her personal spotlight. her black hair rolled and cascaded off her shoulders. her eyes sparkled. her lips followed the words to the music. or so he thought. but instead of watching the band,she turned to him and smiled with a come hither grin and Patrick knew this girl was going to be the death of him. he could see death in her eyes and lust on her mind. they both stood for a moment and just stared at each other. then she turned back around to dance and sing along to the band. Patrick ordered up a second drink and strode over to say hello. when the band was over he asked her name and they began talking. suddenly there were no others in the bar, and the music fell off into background noise. the once blaring jukebox was no longer filler between bands, it became the soundtrack to lust and sin. she told him things he wanted to hear but was afraid to ask. she whispered in his ears things that took his breath away and made his skin fit funny. she turned and nodded towards the dark corner behind the stage. the band was unloading their gear and they would just be another couple in the mass and disappear for a moment. she reached out and took his hand and his breath away. she led him to the dark corner. her eyes glowing in the shadows. she pulled him close to her, brushed her cheek against his as she drew back for a kiss. her lips met his and the world stopped. the music stopped. his heart stopped. then it raced out of control as it came back to life. her lips were soft and inviting. she tasted of bourbon and cigarettes. her hands pulled him closer to her and comforted his broken heart. that was when it happened.
Patrick didn't realize it when it happened. it was just a dulled thud on the back of his head. but he'd work in bars for so long he knew the sound of glass breaking over a skull. his knees buckled slightly. he wasn't sure where the slight dizziness was coming from. the long remorseless kiss he had just been given or the bottle broken over his head. he spun around to find a young man puzzled as to why he was still standing. he heard her call out to the man who'd hit him, asking why he couldn't leave her alone, why he wouldn't let go. why he'd would not let her get on with her life. the first punch brought Patrick back to reality and he responded in kind. the mans eyes rolled but he stood his ground. the second punch caught Patrick in the shoulder, third was deflected. Patrick's second hit connected right below the mans left eye, his cheek split and spilled blood as he fell to the floor. in the few seconds that it took, the entire bar staff was rushing towards him. he spun around grabbed the girl, and ran thru the guitars and amps spilling on the floor from the scuffle out the back door and to the truck. he never asked if she wanted to go with him. he just took her along. he was just as scared as she was. did he have friends, was someone hot on his heels in pursuit? he never looked back. he just ran to his truck, threw her in, fired the old beast up and rocketed out of the parking lot and out into the streets. after leaving the club she never said a word. she just held on to Patrick's hand as they ran. once in the truck she just sat there, looking at Patrick, looking at the blood on her hands, looking out the window.
he didn't know where to go, so he went home. she cleaned the broken glass from his hair and washed the blood from his face and hands. they didn't speak much, they didn't have to speak. there was not much to say. there was not much that wasn't being said in a glance, a nod or a touch of the hand. they slowly undressed. Patrick was beginning to get sore as his adrenaline soaked muscles relaxed. they laid down together, they embraced, and kissed as they drifted off to sleep.
the next morning over coffee and cigarettes she told him her life. of how she knew that if she didn't leave then she would never be able to relax. he would always be there, he would always find her. Patrick didn't really have that much worth staying for himself. his debt would never be paid off and he needed a reason to leave as well. to start fresh. so it was decided, they would start out together. he packed a few clothes, put his tools and broken bike in the back of his truck. left a note for his land lord to sell what he could and throw the rest away.
he asked if she needed anything, she replied no. there was no place to go and all she needed was already in the truck. if anything else came up, they'd find it on the road.

Goodmorning America how are ya?

Don't you know me? i'm your native son. i am america.

my life has sucked all the energy out of my soul. now don't get me wrong. it's not gone, but it's pretty beaten up. i worked 54 hours last week, 40 of that was on thruday,friday and saturday. and i still tried to manage to keep a social life, but since rent is due on thrusday there is a good chance it time to hibernate in the house. if your lucky, you might get a post or two in the next few days. i'm supposed to talk to patrick tommorow maybe he'llhave another story to tell me, or if we go out, maybe a story i can tell about him.

yeah i got nuthing today. spent most of the weekend at home. Queenie came over saturday night, we watched movies and fell alseep on the couch.
only two more days to go till i get a day off. right now i'm on day 8 of 10 in a row. damn i'm tired. one just tired, phyiscally and mentally, and two, tired of people and bars.
Everybody sucks but me! thppphbhbh

Patrick had a rough day at work slinging drinks to all the 7th street drunks. at just after 3:30 he had managed to get them all out of the bar, everything put away for the night and the door locked. he walked over to the 7-11 to grab a hotdog and a pack of smokes. same story ever night. in the short walk from the store to his bike ha had managed to swallow the Bigbite, zip up his jacket and make his way to his bike. a glistening beautiful mix of chrome steel, polished aluminum, greasy black paint and rubber. it didn't look like much but it ran like a demon set free from the bounds of hell. Patrick had spent years slinging drinks all night and day to get this bike running and it was finally done. he swung one leg over the seat and fumbled with the key switch, it stuck from time to time and required a light touch to make it turn. once the ignition was turned on, he reached down and tickled each carburetor to give a little extra gas for starting. reaching down with his right hand he pulled the kick starting pedal out with a reassuring click letting him know it was firmly locked into place. he picked up his heavy boot from the cool damp pavement below bringing it to rest on the kicker. in one fluid motion he twisted open the throttle and brought his weight to bear on the quiet engine. in the same instant the engine roared to life. while letting the bike gently warm he double checked his gloves and cinched his jacket a little tighter, adjusted his weight on the machine, and slid his glasses down over his eyes. after returning the kicker pedal to its home position, he moved the transmission into 1st gear. while letting the clutch out with one hand he began to accelerate with the other, out into the street and gone into the dark night, the exhaust rising and falling with the shifting of gears, fading into endless black top that was his sweet eternity.
The bike sang as it ran down 7th street towards downtown. the air was cool and crisp, the pavement dry and smooth. as Patrick rode he could hear every gear change from the exhaust bouncing off the empty warehouses the lined the street. they would be bustling with activity soon, but for now he stood empty and silent. he accelerated towards the large monoliths standing vigilant over the central business district. 40mph, 50. Third gear 60, 70, 80 and into fourth with a reassuring clunk, the handle bars went loose in his hands as the bike crested the bridge with the front wheel off the ground. 90, 95, 98, 99, he was willing the bike to go faster and faster, throttle wide open. hunched over the tank to slip as much wind as possible. the bike compressed it's suspension and pushed itself frurther into patricks chest coming off the bridge to the rise in the road to downtown. at top of the rise the magic Ton,100 mph. the world went silent for Patrick. the valves ticking away between his legs, the rush of air through his ears, the exhaust bouncing off the walls of the city. all went silent. the voices in his head stopped as they reeled in horror at the world rushing at them. the voices began to wonder. were the wheel bearings tight? did Patrick tighten that axle nut sufficiently? was there anything in the road to puncture a tire? what about a cop doing his reports, were there any? what about civilians? would some dumb schmuck half asleep, not see that red light? Patrick didn't worry. he knew all was well. every nut tight, every bearing properly lubed. a small grin appeared on his lips knowing that there was nothing between him and downtown but a mile of straight dry road till the next red light. as he crossed Henderson the bike lifted again slightly and he knew it was time to shut down. closing the throttle he sat up and let the wind push his body back, pressing the brake with his left foot and reaching out for the security of the front brake at his right hand. the bike howling and belching resisting the de-acceleration. the excess fuel popping in the hot exhaust as he reached the red light on cherry street. the bike clenched up as it came to a dead stop at the intersection.His heart beat resuming to normal as the tremors of adrenalin washed over his body. and he sat waiting patiently for the green light.

Garbage Trucks

I love them. i don't know why. they are big and filthy. they stink to the very depth of the metal, every nook and cranny that could be is packed full of tiny bits of trash, food, and what nots. i remeber having to weld one up one time, i spent quite some time cleaing and cleaning then finally donning a protective suit to keep my clothes clean. i have found out that no matter how much you clean, there is still a film of stench and grease. so i cleaned some more and ground down the area that needed to be welded. the driver had not noticed what he threw in the back and jammed a peice of pipe in the hopper ripping the side door open and tearing open the compactor blade. so i hammered everything back into place, and struck an arc with my welder. burning the metal back together. the smell of untold things burning out of the metal stuck in my throat for days after. i'll never forget the sweet pungent smell of a burning garbage truck. i hate that smell. the smell of the entire world all smashed into one.
every tuesday i sit patiently waiting in my house for the big lumbering truck to come by and take away my refuse. and now that we have the trucks that pick up the bins i'm even more in love. i don't really know why. all i know is that my whole life i've watched the garbage go out. before there were trucks with big hydraulic arms there were men with big arms running down the street to pick up and take away everything i'd give them.
even though i hate taking out the trash. and it never fails, if i take the bins out before i go to bed they don't get picked up till late afternoon, but if i decide i can wait till morning to take the trash out? fuckers come by at 7am and i miss them. it'a good thing i don't create much trash.

ok i'm a jerk. I'm sorry. that's all for now.

for all you who read this from time to time sorry for not writing latly, but don't give up on me. i've been offline for a while with work and personal stuff. but i will soon return.
thanks for coming out today, i'll be here all week.

cleansing

well a small discovery. i used to not shower on a daily basis. not because i'm a gross pig. but i always thought, hey if i'm not dirty then why? i mean if i shower and don't do anything, all i do is sit infront of the computer all day then all i have to do is wash my hands and face and go back to bed? right? but i had a little bit of a revelation. or for me a light bulb or something. latley it has not been about showing to clean my body but to clean my mind. i have discoverd the ritual of hygene to be more about my head than my body. the whole ritual is self cleaning and gets me going. i wash my body then may hair, then my face. after that i stand under the shower head for sometimes up to 30 minutes just letting the hot water wash everything else away. after that, i shave, brush my teeth and comb my hair. finally i get dressed and walk out the door ready to take on the world because i just washed a bunch of shit outa my head and down the drain to deserted part of town to let the water department solidfy my shit and fill a big hole in the ground.

another thing that came to mind today and startled me. i was sitting here listening to woodeye staring out the window watching the rain, and thought, damn i miss home. WHAT? i am home. i live in the city i was born and raised in. why on earth did i think of home as holland and germany. go back home to amsterdam. sit on a canal on a rainey cold day, have a cold beer and watch the world walk by on vacation, looking for a beer, a dildo, a joint or sex with a stranger. i remember one time shortly after moving to germany, this is weird, i feel like i'm home, i feel like i've been trying to get here my whole life. maybe it's getting time to go back home..........

I'm learning, i really am....

i don't even know where to start today. my day to day life has become seemingly insignificant in light of the world, specifically iraq. yesterday i found a blog from iraq. from there i linked to several others. i was captivated. i read, went back and read many weeks and sometime months of posts from begining to end. i can't even comprehend the things i have read. what i can understand is something i have known for a long time. no matter where you go in this world everything is the same. people are the same. they go about their lives trying to do the best they can to provide for themselves and their families. i could argue that occasioally an individual has a misguided idea of what is good for their families. I could argue alot of things, but today my heart is heavy knowing that someone just like me is sitting in front of a computer not much different than the one i am in in front of, not knowing when the electricity will go out and if they can finish their post. not knowing what the explosion outside was. not knowing that their family is safe. not knowing the certainty of their future. the personal future and the future of a counrty they love.
one of the blogs i read a family member was kidnapped and held for ransom. for over a week he was gone. and the family had to pay the ransom to get him, back. they had to pay because the police are corrupt and often involved, and the american military does not get involved. can't get invovled. they don't know if they will be a detained by the soldiers at the next check point because their beard is too long or the color dress was wrong. i worry about having money for drinks and frivolous items that occupy our daily lives, they worry about bombs and gasoline and kersosene and water.

Screwed blued and tattooed.
i got a new tattoo on friday, friday the 13th of febuary. all i got was a simple 13. about an inch tall, red and black. took all of 30mins to get. i also had one touched up. i got the new tattto on my left arm right above an old one i got on the last friday the 13th. i was hoping to get more, but it took along time before i could get my turn and when i did, i was feeling the effects of 9 days of work and decidied to just get the one, to mark the day. a long time ago i decided that i would get full sleaves, but i was not going to get them all at once. i would get them as time and money allowed. i also made the decision that i would not get tattoos willy nilly with no ryhme or reason. the tattoos i would get on my left arm would be ones of places i've been, things i have done and how i see the world. the ones on my right arm would be how i perceive the world sees me or how i want the world to see me. so far so good. but if you've ever seen my tatoos and you know me, well you know that i'm still heading in the right direction and not too far from my mark. so anyway i got another 13 friday.
saturday i had a date with queenie. but she didn't get off work till late. and it turned out to be not much different than any other saturday night out. i stood at the bar doing shots and drinking beer, while she paraded around in her new party dress.
saturday night was supposed to be a one last stand, a remember the alamo night. instead she drove me home, like always, and we sat up till god knows when talking. but given that there was a time we would stay up all night talking it fits right in with our realtionship.
sunday i got called into work at noon. a shot of jager and a hot cup of coffee and i was able to stop my head from pounding enough that i could count money. after 7 hours of doing shots with the rest of the west 7th crew, all trying to get rid of their hangovers and forget the money they spent on their girls, i was no longer tring to get rid of my hangover but trying to function as a bartender. the combination of alchohol, exhastion and depression was too much for my brain to handle and when a girl asked if i wanted to go to a dance club with her and her friends i said yes. so off to vivid. i don't have much memory of the night. i drank, i danced, i did more shots. then i thought i was lost, then i was found. next thing i know i'm in a truck heading home. home being the bar. i got back, paid my tab and went to sleep in the sound booth. next thing i know i was called out of sluber into another truck and there i was, standing on my front porch, fumbling with my keys to get in the door.
monday i made spaghetti, cookies and ate ice cream.

wow, i don't even know whee to begin this. i had along weekend. it rained it snowed. i drank i fought i danced i loved i don't even know what i have i done. i made money and i spent it. i'll have to get back to you on this i ahev to go lay back down.

cold and sunny

i wish it was raining today. actually i don't want it to rain, but i would like it if the weather matched my mood a liitle better. i just want it to be dark and dreary. i mean it's already cold, it ought to be cloudy as well. at least if it was cloudy i could curl up on the bed or couch or what ever and wallow in self pity. but how are you supposed to have a pity party when the sun is shining and birds are singing.
i miss the first time, the firt sight, the first kiss, that first tingle up my spine the excitement of the unknown, of atticipation. i miss my pants fitting funny.
i miss being excited in the morning. i miss not wondering where she is or who she's talking to.
today i want a big steak, the first cut and the juice spills out on the plate.
i don't want to wonder about her. i don't want to know what she's thinking, i don't want to know who she's talking to.
but she wont get out of my head.
everyday the hole grows larger and larger. everyday the hole gets harder to fill. i miss the days when there was no hole in my heart. i miss the days when i could fill the hole with a few shots of gentley warm bourben. the cool glass in my hand, and fire in my chest.
i miss birds singing. i miss walking on air.

AND GODDAMNIT I HURTING TOO

Dark bars and Dark secrets

out of the mouths of drunk comes the strangest things. i don't know what they are, but hell their talking, and if they are tipping while they talk i'm listening. so last night a small group of six waltz into my place in arlington. two girls and four guys. they are out celebrating the brithday of one of the gents in the group. i only know this because they called proir to arriving to ask if it was ok if they brought a small leashed dog with them. ait turned out i was the only bar they called that would allow a canine companion to accompany them into the bar, so they didn't bring the dog on their birthday bar crawl. the group turned out to consists of a neighboring bar owner, his wife, one of their bartenders and two of their friends, one of whom was the birthday boy. i know these folks from visiting their bar, and lovely folks i might add. back to the story at hand. the birthday boy was obviously well passed drunk, was having a great time, but could barley speak or stand. being his birthday and knowing he was in good hands, i gave him what i imgine to be his last beer for his birthday. he was trying to get me to buy him a shot for the special occasion but after realizing just how intoxicated he was i tried to hem-n-haw around while i served others, tried to change the subject and basically avoid buying a shot one, and two having him puke it back up on my bar. so the night goes on and the bartrender girl remembers the last time i was in her bar i was buying everyone i could find a beer or a drink or a shot for those who were willing to do jager with me. i think the bartender was the only one whom i did not buy a shot of jager for because she stated that she did not care for taste. i bought her something else if my memory serves me correctly. this all came about because i had ended up working an unexpected double, made some stupid cash, i was caught up on my bills and i decide i was going to share the wealth. the whole time that batender girl and i were rehashing that lovely day and the enormity of my tab, birthday boy is listening intently and watching as best he could. then out of nowhere and in the middle of someone elses sentence, just as the word jager come out of my mouth, he jumps up, wobbles, points his finger at me and proclaims " i know you now, your the guy that bought me a shot of jager and told me a funny story" why yes i did, i bought a lot of drinks that day". no sooner had this realization hit him, another one hit him and he needed to use the phone. poof. gone. goodbye.
it got me to thinking on my way home, yup that's me. the guy who'll buy you a shot of jager and tell you a funny story. what story will i tell? i never know, and neither will you.

i can be your superman

i was reading thru my archives and came aross this post from July 01, 2003 i'm kinda feeling this way again.

Sex , lies and horny drunks



So a customer at the bar made an interesting observation in his drunken stupor after the conversation at the bar turned to sex and masturbation. Another drunk was making the argument that it's ok and that both men and women do it to "take care of business " the observation was that if all the horny men and women are going home alone and masturbating because they are horny, wouldn't the world be a better place if everybody got together and made the masturbation issue a non-issue. It got me to thinking, yup there are a lot of horny folks going home alone at the end of the night. But I guess not all of the right people are not in all of the right places at the same time. Of course this brings up the topic of causal sex and that I believe is a topic for another day. Of course as I have mentioned before there are a lot of ugly or not so attractive folks out there and for some ingrained reason most horny folks have a higher standard for the folks they want to have sex with than they have for themselves. I know most people do there best to look their best when they go out on the town, or maybe not. Maybe the horny folks have resigned themselves to be lonely and don't make an effort to get all dressed up when they go out for a beer or a show. What scares me the most are the guy and gals who obviously look like the put some time and effort into their appearance and still manage to miss the mark arbitrarily set by society. I remember one time at the bar, kicking back and having a beer or three, a young woman walked thru the door. This girl was the poster girl for a white trash whore. She was wearing a skirt that was too short, tattered and worn, not to mention about 10 years out of style. (do short skirts really go out of style?) ugly cheap shoes that should have been sent to the trash bin years ago, black torn fishnets and a shirt that was way too tight. Bright red lipstick and cake hair from the late 80's. Her whole outfit screamed I'm looking to have sex with the band, the whole band and nothing but the band. But when I noticed what she was carrying I almost fell out of my chair giggling. A bag of Doritoes. I turned and looked at one of my friends and in the straightest face I could muster, I said, "she's all that and a bag of chips." we laughed about that thru most of the night. And the young girl oblivious to our amusement stood dutifully at the edge of the stage and stared mournfully at each band that played. And I digress.
So horny people? Put on your best clothes, wash your hair, brush your teeth, ask a friend how you look, then go out at give it a go at not going home alone or at least getting a number for later. Now I'm not saying that everybody in the club is single and horny, but you never know, that pretty young thing that you've been looking at all night, might be just like you. Looking for love in all the wrong places.

Life on the road


two years, two people, two separate roads to go. there is now an empty chair in my castle, for my queenand i have parted ways. it's been amicable and pleasant, but today is the first day she has not been here for me when i woke up or got home. we've talked and we both agree, that the time has come to go our own ways. it's been a while since my divorce. what started out as quick trip has ended in a two year journey. i 've discoverd many things about myself and forgotten a few things. i never finished the story i was writing about my trip to california and it may now be never finished. hell my thought are allover the place right now, maybe i should go take a shower. i have alot of disconnected thoughts today. well not even just today, but for some time. i can create or envision wonderful titles and images but for some reason i can't flesh out the story.
for instance theis entry began on way and it took for ever for me to log on and now it's gone. oh well.

i'll see if i can recapture it for you.
life on the road........
well this post has digressed into one liners. i'll think about and try to post more later. right now the TV is bugginthe crap outa ma and i have to turn it off.

something i have been thingking of the other day, how the sonnet and the pop song corrolate. i'm doing some reaserch as we speak, i'll get back to ya onit when i find something out.


you can read about sonnets here

ahh forget it.

i got distracted and now i forgot what i wanted to write.

well saturday night was a blast. even thought i ended up working. it's one of the few times in the in recent memory that i enjoyed working. lots and lots of pretty people. some really good music. and money, money, money. of course lie true to form i went out sunday and spent everything i made saturday night. but damn did i have fun. i bought drink after drink and round after round. i do enjoy the look on a completestragers face wheni offer to buy then a drink. just makes it all worthwhile.

another round of shots please!

went to the woodeye show last night. it was good. i am amazed everytime i see these guys. they just get better time and time again. how they do it i don't know. i think it might be the copiuos amounts of alcohol invovled. just a guess mind you. no concrete evidence. they played with the mocking bird cartel and sorta. both bands surprized me. one because i had never seen the cartel play before and two i thought that sorta, well sorta sucked last time i saw them. but they didn't suck this time. i guess i should start paying more attention to the bands that put money in my pocket than the drinks that are in my hands, or the girls or both. who knows. tonight is halies birthday party lots of gay art people to look at tonight. i'll try to report in later

awe hell, i really don't have any thing today. it's s nice cool day teh sun is shining, birds are singing, and my hangover is waning
just a few random thoughts.

local music sucks, local music rocks.
i'm a rockstar.
i like pop music
everybody sucks but me. i live like you want to live, i drink like you want to drink, i fuck like you want to fuck, i fuck the girls you wanna fuck. (with apoligies to eicky)
i hate people. i love their money. i love that i can make them do anything that i want. people are stupid.
don't talk to me asshole. fuck you, pay me!

To Pink, i don't think that i'm not real, and i have a pretty good idea you are real, however i was drunk for so many days when we met in person, who knows, i guess we could have had a mutaul hallucination, but that is a debate for another day. however the point i think i was trying to get at was just how long ago things seem. i have incredibly vivid dreams, and there have been times i wondered "did that really happen? or was i dreaming?" so i think in the meloncholly mood i wrote that in i was just thinking, man that was soo long ago, sometimes days seem like years and years seem like days.

i have come to the concluson that i need to figure out at way to blog from the shower. i have found myself latley just standing in the shower, letting the hot water run over my head and down my body, for several minutes a day. sometimes as much as 20mins. just standing there thinking, and conversing to myself. sometimes i just i don't think at all. i just stand there.the problem is i i'm usally in the shower getting ready for work, so once i get out i continue my hygene ritual, get dressed then it's out the door. i also do alot of thinking while i drive. not because i want to mnd you, i'd love to drive blissfullu down the road like the rest of america, oblivios to my surrounds but unlike most of american drivers do not have a radio in my truck. that is really a misreprentation. i do have a radio in my truck, it's just that i can't use it. the lot i bought it from some how lost the removable face plate. and well i bargined them down so much on the truck, i didn't really think it was a deal breaker and didn't want to push the point. chiefly because the deal was done and well ther wasn't anything i could do about it, secondly this is the next truck in a long line of vehicles i have owned that have not had a radio. so i'm getting quite accustomed to riding in silence. i find myself from time to time even turing off the radio in my G/F's truck.




THPPHHHHHHHH!!!

well good grief it's been a long time since i posted here. even though it's ben over a month, not much a has changed, or therte has not been anytihng of note worth writing about.

still working, still scrapeing for money, still working on the bikes, or should i say not working on the bikes. it seems that i can find just about any excuse i want to use to explain my lack of working.
ok this is just depressing me further rather than helping get things out my head to make me feel better.

yeah i miss my friends too queenie.

i'm gonna touch on past lives again. sometimes i wonder if they are true or not. my mother? let me tell you about my mother, Boom (lol a line one one of my favorite movies). anyway my mother was a staunch catholic, as was her parents and their parents before them. however, despite this upbringing she believed in ghosts, voodoo, and past lives. how i don't know, all three were disreguarded as pagan in the church. so maybe that is where i got my curiosity from.

once when i was a child i remember crying out to my mother in the night. i had to go pee, but i was too afraid of the dark to get out of bed, but too afraid of embarressment to pee in my bed, so i cried out in the night. soon my mother appeared at my door. her silken robe blowing in the breeze. she said what is wrong my child? i told her, and she said hurry. we didn't have night lights when i was a child, but i distincly remember i soft blue glow in the room and the hall. now here is the freaky part. there was a path from my bed to the bathroom compised of small aniamals; puppies, kittens, squirrels, bunnys, birds and more. when i woke the next day i asked my mother about it. she told me she didn't get out of bed all night. my guardian angel perhaps? a ghost? i asked my mother again sometime later in life, my early teens i think. this time i was able to describe in greater detail what happened that night. she told me with a wonderful expression that she thought in was the Virgin Mary, because she prayed at night for her to watch over me.

so past lives. i have often wondered, was i a soldier? it might explain my yearning for comabt. it might explain my level headedness in difficult situations. it might explain my tendencies to take contol. or not. or it might come from watching the movie Patton too many times. sometimes i think i may have been a common man. a metal worker through the ages perhaps? if you imagine hard enough, you can imagine yourself doing just about anything.

i wonder if my life is a dream. i wonder if the summers in europe were a dream. did i really march on the the arc de' triumph that hot day in july? march to the top and stand victoriously overlooking paris? did i really dance in the streets of amsterdam, ride the trians in frankfurt drunk, holding onto a pretty german girl for fear i would lose her forever if i let go? what about that night on the metro? were there german soldiers sleping next to me? did i really see a cowboy puppet show?
this is making me think of past lives. can you really re-write your own history? history is always recored by the victors. can i be victorious over my own life?

well tonight i have a date with my sweetie. but as usaul i may be trying to sabotage myself. it seems i have developed a bit of chest congestion. aside from that i have no idea what to do. if this was a date with a stranger i would suggest going to the bar and having a few drinks. however the place i would suggest is a place that is frequented by both my sweetie and myself on a regular basis. and i would imagine it might be no different than any other night of just hanging out. i would like to have a creative nice eveing, but all i want to do right now is take a nap.
on a side note, makes me think of something. the difference between hanging out and a date. what exactly is the difference? you wanna go out? ok. is that a date or just hanging out?

things are getting better. i have knuckled down and begun finding solutions to problems. i have made conscience effort to clean, and keep clean the places i have begun on.
aside from that , i got a new truck on friday, an 84 GMC.
and on sunday i bought a 72 triumph in fair condition. Queenie is convinced it's her bike. but only time will tell. i have to get the thing running first.
more updates later as things progress.

i'm tired. but i'm doing ok.
i'm tired of having a disgusting house, cluttered with all my crap.
i'm tired of not having a nice house.
i'm tired of having a house guest.
i'm tired of not having any privacy
i'm tired of not having any more money than enough to pay the bills
i'm tired of not having a motorcycle.
i'm tired of bing poor and not being able to afford to spend the money to change the things in my life that i want to, i want to enjoy the money i make and not just spend it on bills.
i'm tired of being tired, being a whiney ass bitch.
i'm tired of complaining and not solving. i was once told in the military that if i didn't not have an actual doable solution then i should not complain.

well it's been a long week to say the least.
last week this time i was standing over my friend in the ER, he spun out in some water and struck a light pole breaking his right femur. 38 hrs later i came home and took a nap, only to get up and go back to the hospital......he was released on friday. he's doing fine

I'm tired
i'll post more some other day

blah,blah,blah

not much going on these days. still fighting tooth and nail to get the triumph done with no money. did get a new tattoo this weekend though. i kinda feel bad. that was money i had earmarked for my new truck, a 1941 dodge, and it was money that could have been used for bike parts. but then again i am always envigorated by a new tattoo, so i think it was money well spent. cides, i got a pretty deep discount.

i've got alot of things in my mind today, just don't know where or how to start. well for starters i'm more sick (physically, i don't think i'm capable of becoming more sick mentally, but i shouldn't speak so soon, i could always blow a gasket and completly lose my mind) than i have been in quite some time, i even missed a day of work. which is quite a bummer. thursdays are genarlly good happy hours and i make a few more dollars than normal. and well august and september just plain sucked and i need the money. oh well i guess i'll get by like i always do.
i've been giving more and more thoughts to going back to work, but damn i sure do enjoy my life right now. the only problem is that me and queenie are on oppisite schedules and hardly get to see each other, and when we do one or the other is often sleeping. we never talk anymore and when we do it's usually me in a drunken stupor attmping to sort my thoughts out thru a haze of whisky and jager. i know it's wrong to initiate such converations drunk, but i'm still very self-conscience and still have a hard time revealing my true emotions. i guess the only redeeming valaue is i know that i want to discuss things, i want to have an open honest relationship, and i don't want to have to hide anything. oh well.

it seem as more oftn than not, i have several ideas and things to say hear, but when i finally get to a computer, tpsst all gone.

i have been reflecting on my liffe with Johnny Cash yesterday and today, and here is a small snipit of my thoughts. i can give credit for the man helping me be the man i am today. the very first memory i have of Johnny is "one Peice at a time" it was a favorite of mine as a child and still one of my favorites today. upon further reflection i realized that might be that reason for my passion for building motorcyles and cars......"i built it once peice at a time and it didn't cost me a dime, you'll know it's me when i come thru your town......."
the second one is you have to stand up for what you believe in and what you know is right.

Johnny Cash 1932-2003
i don't know what to say. never before has a celebrity death had such a profound impact on me. always before i would just say in response to a celebrity death, " bummer" and reflect on what that person contributed to our lives thruogh their work. when i woke this morning i heard the news and was immediatly saddened. i began reflecting on his career and his music. and i feel like i have lost a distant relative. i know little about the man in black, but i know his music and i know how it has affected me. i sit hear at my computer and i can remeber places and people whom i shared my life with, all with Johnny playing soulfully in the background. i remeber my friend John leaving on a journey home, us standing in the back yard drunk, arm in arm, holding each other up crying singing along to Cash's "highway patrolman"............
"........yeah, me and frankie laughing drinking, nothing feels better than blood on blood. taking turns danncing with maria, while the band played the night of the johnstown flood, i catch him when he's straying, like any brother should, a mans turns is back on his family, he ain't no good"
it times like that, the bittersweet memories, the good and the bad, that his words and voice triggers. his voice has been an intregal part of my life from the time i was a child, he has always been there, always in the background of my life. saying things i could not find words for.

i heard again the other day that all that matters is the dash between the two dates. and in this case that dash was 71 years. i'm at a loss for words today. he lived life hard and fast, found God and contiued to live more than before.
he was a the man the myth and the legend. woven so tightly into the fabric of america.
Godspeed Johnny, Godspeed. can you hear that train a'coming now? you've been released from the prison of life and your on the train home.

blah,blah........nothing new really. Going to the car show today. sometimes i wonder if i'm going because i'm a scenester, or is it to see the cars? i know i like the cars, and i enjoy seeing acquaintances and friends. so i don't know. i hope to have a good time despite my shortcomings, that is neither having a car or a bike. oh well we'll see what happens. happy day to all.

well it looks like i'm gonna build both at the same time. however it seems that the triumph is alot closer to completion than i thought it was. i was making a metal check list of items i have and items i need, and it looks like i have more triumph parts than i have chopper parts. so you figure it out

well i did alot of thinking this weekend and i think i have come to conclusion that i need to build my chopper instead of the bonnie. i love my bonnie, just not in peices it's in right now. but here was the thought process.
i have everything i need to build the bonnie except bearing and gaskets.
i have almost everything i need for a chopper except som engine parts.
so really it's toss up on which one to build
i was really headed towards the bonnie, and realy excited about it too. but then i went to 7-11 to pick up the new cycle world or some sort of motorcycle mag just to have something to read, maybe educate myself on the new bikes out. well the new issue of the horse is out, so i bought it with out even loking at what was inside. i know it's gonna be good. well that set the wheels in motion again.
so i like hot rods, not a secret if you know me. so i asked myself, if i was going to build a car, would i build a sports car or a hotrod, well i would build a hotrod of course.
now the bonnie would be/will be closer to being a two wheeled equivalent to a sportscar and a chopper is more of a hotrod. soooooooo. back to the chopper project.
it think this may just be an attempt on my part to sabotage myself and keep anything from getting off the ground.
i often wonder if i had someone who could motivate me more than i can myself if i'd have somethign running.
last chopper build i completed was because my friend Dean came over nearly everyday, called on the days he couldn't come over and kicked my ass till it was done. he also had help from some of our other friends.
i dunno. i just wish i could find some motivation. it's either too hot, too cold or too nice to be out in the shop working on a bike. but oddly enough when i do finally get out and get to work i get so wrapped up in what i'm doing it just go and go till i run out of parts.
Oh well!

i'm hot and i'm tired of being hot. it's getting to the point of the year where i'm thinking of renting a truck, loading up and driving north till i hit snow. my A/C is not keeping up today. i think it's cooler ourtside than inside. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH
i just want to be cold. screw compfortable i want to shiver, and chatter my teeth, i want to be cold, i want to go get a blanket, and be "not feel my fingers" cold.

I'm going nuts today
i think i'll clear frig out and go sit in it!

well i'm working on the bike again. i really want to have a new bike that i don't have to work on constantly. however i do get some simple satifaction in the work itself, and i know i'll owe next to nothing when i'm done. but i really do want a new bike, i just don't know if i can or want to afford the payments right now. oh well i'll let ya'll know. speakingof knowing, let me know what going on with ya'll who read this.

Not much going on this week. still trying to finish the couch, i have one cushion, the back and the front/bottom to go.
i haven't worked at the boom room since opening weekend, however they say they still want me to work, they just don't know when they'll have work for me.
went bike shopping thursday, didn't find anything i liked.
blah.

So once again feel as my life is too cluttered. i feel like i own too much stuff, and i decided that my house is not too small for all my stuff, my stuff is too big for my house. my current goal is to be able to pack everything in the back of a 20foot moving van. not that i'm planning on moving anytime soon, but i may need to one day. Late last night i begun. i chose a huge pile of clothes to be given away. i'd like to see my friends get them, so i'll maybe publish a list here soon. and i filled a black contractor bag with TRASH. When will i ever have a need for a torn half-shirt with my Highschool Football teams logo, so out it goes with the bits of scraps of paper. A reicept for photos i paid for TEN years ago? Gone!
Whcih brings me to this. so i'm sitting here trying to figure out if The spin doctors" Pockect full of Cryptonite" is worth of draggin me into clutter hell. i'm mean i bought it once? but do i need to keep it?

so i had the strangest dream just now. i was in the home i grew up in, but my mother woke me up mowing the yard. and my grandfather was in the hospital. the strange part is that my mother died 7 yrs before my grandfather.

found this old couch on the side of the road one day. i thought i was a really great couch, the deserved a new life in my home, instead of being sent to the dump. at the time, i was newly divorced, low on cash and short on funiture sooo, we loaded it up. after getting it home it didn't look as good as it did beside the road so it sat in the corner of the living room coverd by a sheet until i could find a fabric to recover it with.


said couch, not much differnt than the day i found it.

well last night i decided that the time was right, my current couch (a hand me down from a co-worker) was just too damn uncomfortable, so i ripped the cover off the old one and decided the tonight was the night[tonights the night we make history....]


so off to Wal-mart we go in the middle of the night, in search of suitable fabric. we found a whole bolt of nice plum/eggplant brushed twill. soft and fluffy. and the jouney began.

i'm about half way thru, still need to do the sides and back, but i wanted to share.




Sorry bout the quality of the last pic, but i had to bump up the contrast for the purple to show thru

so yesterday i was standing at the ice well making a vodka and cranberry. and for some reason i had a memory of the road. the memory i had was being at a shell station outside of Seattle somewhere in the mountains. we filled the truck up with gas and our stomaches with tacos. one of which found its way under the truck seat until monday(5days). whoops. anyhow it was a bright sunny day, i think there might have been some high clouds but not many. the trees were tall and green. and there were some rock n roll hippies. i have no other way to describe them. people who from a distance look like hippies; worn baggy clothes, long hair, and shabby shoes, but on closer inspection reveal themselves to be metal heads;a Dio baseball shirt or metallica tee, wallet chains and corduroy pants, and old nike shoes. on a side note, i wish that the chain-driven wallet had not gained so much popularity. i liked it when people looked at me with fear and disgust just because i wore a chain on my wallet. now every one from weekend bikers to 14 year old korn fans wear them. however, i'm a goober and if my wallet is not attached to my body then i would set it down somewhere and forget where i put it. also the reason that i have a hook on my keys. i haven't lost my keys since i put my them on the hook about 10 years ago. now that i'm saying this i'm probably gonna lose them.
so anyway back to the point, it was a nice memory to have yesterday. thinking of that warm fall day. me and my girl. on the road to seattle and self discovery. i just wonder what it was that triggered the memory..........

not much going on these days. been working alot. got to see my brother on tuesday and for breafast wed morn, on his way back from kuwait on his way to DC to work at the the big building. slept all day on wedsday.

well iguess i waited too long to finish my tour. it's mostly gone. however, imagine rich painted walls and deep glossy dark harwood floors. comfortable furnishings and lots of stone and tile. i have often loved the look of blue stone and slate. i would like to have a bathrooom that had alot of grey slate and and limstone with glass tiles. that doesn't seem to mix well so i think i may have to have two bathrooms OR just work real hard to gethte design to flow well.

MY HOUSE
so for years i have been trying to imagine what my dream house would be. i have dismissed the expansive masions in part because; i hate cleaning, i'm lazy and don't like walking up or down stairs,elevators no matter the novelty of having one in your home, are slow, and finally i'm a pakrat. i would just end up being lost in my own home buried under piles of papers, motorcycles and empty whisky bottles. so i have determined i would most likely be the most happy in a small bunaglow, someting in the neighbor hood of 1200 to 1800 Square feet. 3 maybe 4 bedrooms with 2 bathrooms a nice living room and a den. i had den in my house growing up and i miss be able to reast comfartably in the back of the house. i might like to have an office but it's not entirely nessecary. i could convert one of the extra rooms into an office/studio. now comes the important part, i really need two garges. One would be for my daily driving needs. it would be large enough to accomidate two vehicles, a couple of motorcycles and lawn maintence equipment. sure i would love to have the money to pay someone to mow my lawn but this is a dream i want to attain, and right now taking care of the yard myself is resonable.
the second garage would be my workshop. my ultimate dream is to have about a 10 car garage. maybe 2000-3000SqFt or more with a lift and a paint booth. but as much as i would enoy a shop as large or larger than the house i could get by on something smaller. maybe 900-1000 SqFT? it needs to big enough to house several motorcycle projects, a car project and assorted mechical parts. in addition to this it would be large enough to store all related equipment to build, fabricate and maintain the aformentioned projects and vehicles. and while i'm dreaming, i'd like to have a full bath in the shop complete with shower. maybe even a kitchette area.
ok lets see if i can take you on a short tour of the property.
as you pulled up to the house you would not notice much from the street but a small unassuming structure of dark green surrounded by plants and trees in purple, green and grey with touches of red, blue and yellow sprinkled throughout, seemingly melting into the yard. the yard is small in the front with lots of plantings and an even smaller patch of lush green thin bladed burmudia grass. grass not much different than you might see planted at the entrance of a commerical complex. as you pulled onto the cobblestone drive you'd see the house. the grey/green flagstone walkway flanked by low knee high shrubs inviting you to the front door. walking the path you find little surprises in the shrubs. little square copper and glass lamps to direct to you the door at night, in the daylight would give soft reflection of the plants around them. short squat japanese boxwoods, spiraling yoppaun hollies, fluffy nandinas with their mutli colored leaves in varying hues. all held together by an assortment of wild flowers.
you would step up two steps to the porch thru stone colums of limstone stacked to look if you leaned on them too hard it would fall over, marking not only the rise to the door but firmly anchoring the corners of the house to the earth. the porch is inviting and wraps around the house on both sides. a few comfortble furnishings are arranged in a small sitting area to the left. covered in cloth matching the lushness of the lawn. arriving at the massive wood door you can almost see into the house by looking in the floor to ceiling foot wide windows on either side, if they were not draped in light pleated chaffon cutains. you grasp the heavy door by an equally impressive silver handle, contrasting with the rich darkwood, a handle that lets you know what you are about to open is special, something to cherish. if the door is locked, just look in one of the potted plants blurring the distinction between house, porch and lawn. walking in and closing the door behind you you admire the way the door closes with authority. giving you peice of mind, and letting you know you are safe from the world. you are home.
what do you want to see next? you need to use the restroom? or are you thirsty by chance? can i get you someting to drink? eat? tell you what. you go bathroom while i grab us a couple of drinks, it just down the hall there, you can't miss it.

so i never got around to giving my feet anythought other than, damn they hurt. i spent some where in the neighborhood of 14-15 hours at the bar thruday night. my feet hurt and i wanted a shower. i also got sunburned thrusday and now i'm peeling. grrr.

just a real quick post today. i was washing my hands and noticing that my feet hurt. since i have started working in the bar biz i have noticed that i don't really get much time off. i was thinking it would be nice to go to the beach walk around in the sand and put my feet in the ocean. now for me this is pretty odd. when i was a child you couldn't get me outa of the water, but the older i get the less and less time i spend being submerged. now i have heard the phrase before from other people that they need to go put their feet in the ocean and get grounded. i for one have never felt this way. but for some reason this morning that thought went thru my head, and for the life of me i can't seem to know why i would say such a thing. it's sucha suz thing to say. hmmmmm, however i do remember i enjoyed going to myrtle beach and walking around inthe sand all day. when i got home all my calloses would be gone and my feet felt renewed and rejunvinated, but when i went to cabo, even though i felt rejuvinated as a whole my feet still were my same old feet. i'll think of this today and see what i come up with.

well i decided to not go straight home last night and well my luck ran out. after i stopped at the gas station, i decided to jumperwire my headlights and swing by the wreck. well apparntly i hooked up the highbeam instead of the lows. i couldn't find a safe place to pull over on the freeway to change it, so i figured i would just fix it once i got to the wreck. well i guess an officers attention was attracted by my bright lights and pulled me over to see where i was going. another damn expired inpection ticket. oh well. some good news/bad news. bad news is my warrants are still showing up on registration, good news is i didn't go to jail. the officer decided to check the court records which show that they have been taken care of. whew!

i don't have anything to write today. that's not true. i have plenty i could write about but i just flat out don't want to.

i want to be a SUPERHERO. not just a hero, but a superhero. i want to be able to fly over tall building, swim deep oceans. i want adventure. i want purpose. i need an arch-nemisis. some days i feel like my day has no purpose. However if i was a super hero then i would have that need filled. i could spend my days working in my secret lab devising ways to stop the evil that is [insert evil villian whose sole purpose is to destroy the world to make it his own personal playground here]. i would spend my days searching for and attmpting to determine a way to foil the next fendish plot at world domination. i would save the world.

or i want to be a super spy. with crazy gagets and a determination to complete my governments bidding. i would sneak into parties, and dance with vixen asassins, who wanted me out of there masters way. i would have an endless supply of idenities, and the means to cover my true idenity. i could speak in languages most have hardly spoke a word of out loud, or heard beyond the speakers in their TV. i would meet slovenly men in dark suits, and we would exchange evolopes in dark allys. allys so dark that you never knew who was lurking in the shadows. allys that smelled of urinie and death. allys where i would save the world.

or i want to be a great explorer. searching far reaching corners of the earth for long lost artifacts of acient civalizations. i would leave no trail un-covered, no matter how old the scent. i would meet men in bright street cafes, brimming with vibrance and activity. sit next to unknowning tourists. i would meet men in dark bars, ones where a man goes to die. men who would take me to places their grandfathers told them about. i would fight unholy warriers who wanted their secret kept hidden instead of displayed in a museum for all the worlds to see. i would unearth all of mans mysteries, and i would save the world.

i guess today i just want to be somebody else. i have tried a couple of times, but today i am still myself.

i don't wanna work, i just wannna bang on the drum all day...........the more i work the less i want to. i would like to just hang around the house all day. maybe it's just the work in arlington. i just don't enjoy it anymore. i tire of seeing the same people who drink the same drinks and listen to the same songs from the same seats they have been sitting in since 1976. however, i do enjoy seeing my fort worth regulars. i think it may be the age difference, i'm not sure.

ok, i have done some preliminary reasesrch, nothing yet. other than the hanging garden of Babylon

last night i was wondering about the war in Iraq. watching images for a commercial for CNN. the thought crossed my mind of how many times in history has an army invaded iraq and occupied Bahgdad. it seems to me that reguardless of the US military might, and the weakness of Iraq, this was quite a feat.

the maker of magic, the birth place of freedom.
today i am pondering the corrulation between a countries military might and coffee. After the first war with Iraq i heard many stories of soldiers not wanting to take prisoners due to lack of coffee.Us soldiers did not want to give there coffee to the Iraqi POWS. which would lead me to believe that Iraq did not have any coffee to provide their troops with. so this i give you to ponder. Had the iraqis had good coffee, would the drive to Baghdad have been so short? Would Naploeans troops been able to withstand the hard russian winter that fatefull year had they had good coffee? not just any coffee, but real good, to die for Coffee?(pun intended)

Yesterdays cup with todays coffee

This is photo of todays coffe cup.

Well it was quite a weekend to say the least. Started off on thrusday. bought a new mattresss. a nice plush soft one. it was delivered on friday. i spent most of friday going and laying down on the bed for a few moments, then getting back up and continuing my days activities. went to work then decided that i wanted to get a new tattoo, photos to follow soon. and then on saturday went to Byblos(sp?) lebonese restaraunt, not very impressed, but still had a good meal and a good time. it was nice to take the princess out for dinner. after that went out to the wreck of course, then came home and crawled into our snuggly fluffy bed. after spending about $1500 for the weekend, decided to stay in on sunday.

reverse cowgirl

grrrrr, everything is loading sooooo slow. damn i want a faster connection, today everything is moving slow, i want to be able to zing in and out of websites with reckless abandon, instead i have to sit and wait, much like the people in ads for broadband.

Well here's pic of my computer. last week sometime i saw 'One Hour Photo'. first off i'd like to say, creepy. secondly the character that robin williams plays make a statement, i think in voiceover, that people only take picstures of things they want to remember. nobody takes pics of everyday things or bad things only happy things. more people should take pictures of everyday life. i have also begiun to read 'reverse cowgirl' who more often than not has picutes of mudane things on her site. so with that in mind, and armed with a digital camara, i have begun to take more documertary pics of my life. some will be posted here, some will be posted elsewhere.

well it would seem i have some new readers. welcome to the corner of my mind, and and welcome to the patio. grab a beer, pick a chair and enjoy your stay. feel free to leave comments.

nope i wanted to thank George

I hate to burst your bubble, but I think you should be thanking Merle, not George, but I could be wrong.

.............i wish Coke was still cola, and a joint was a bad place to be..........

i have had this song suck in my head all day. and not really the whole song just this part of it. thank you George for reminding me of my lost youth as well.

just wanted to drop in and say hi

ok i think i got this thing close to where i want it for now. but we will see what happens

i'm gonna start changing his one around soon

Reluctantly crouched at the starting line,
Engines pumping and thumping in time.
The green light flashes, the flags goes up,
Churning and burning, they yern for the cup.

They deftly manouver and muscle for rank,
Fuel burning fast on an empty tank,
Wreckless and wild they pour thru the turns,
Their prowless is podent and secretly stern.

As they speed thru the finish the flags go down.
The fans get up, and get out of town.
The arena is empty except for one man,
Still driving and striving as fast as he can

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup,
But he's driving and striving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone, all alone in her time of need.

Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.
He's going the distance.

Yeah!

No trophy, no flowers, no flash bulbs, no wine.
He's haunted by something he cannot define.
Bowel shaking earthquakes of doubt and remorse,
Assail him, impale him with monster truck force.
In his mind he's still driving, still making the grade.
She's hoping time that her memories will fade,
Cause he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's fighting and biting and riding on his horse.

The sun has gone down and the moon has come up,
And long ago somebody left with the cup.
But he's striving and driving and hugging the turns,
And thinking of someone for whom he still burns.

Cause he's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
She's all alone, all alone in her time of need.

Because he's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's figting and biting and riding on his horse,
He's racing and pacing and plotting the course,
He's figting and biting and riding on his horse!

He's going the distance.
He's going for speed.
He's going the distance...

i want a nice house. i watch HGTV constantly along with most current home makeover in a day/weeknd surprize/whileyouwerout/cribcrashed/youdidn't knowiwasgoingtoremakeourliving/bed/bathroom/kitchen. and now i must add monster house to the list. i really don't know why i watch these things but i do. i have from time to time implemented ideas i have seen on these shows into my house, but rarely i have the money or take the time to make the kitchy/crafty things.
i want a house with soft blue and grey walls, beige and green. i want a house that looks like a movie. i want to live the "good life". but i live in the barrio, and i rent. so i don't want to do anything to the house that i can't take with me or will cost too much. i am also reluctant to put money into a house that i know i will never get back. even if it was my own house, the neighborhood i live in will not bear the level of living i desire. concrete and stone,chrome and stainless steel, dark wood and plush upholstry. the neighborhood would accept the nice oak cabinets that my landlord installed, but not the cherry craftsman style with glass fronts i desire, or do i want maple?
i miss my old house terribly. i miss the feeling of the cold slate under my feet in the morning. the cool tile under my hand as i lean on the counter and peer out my window pondering the days upcoming activities. the warm, soft, well worn wood flooring in the living room. the soft green walls and linen curtains.
i miss living in a neighborhood that would appreciate the improvements i make to a home. not the neighborhood where gangster wannabes hang out across my street drinking 40's and wishing they were cool. (i wonder if they like Eminem?) i miss living in a respected and desireable neighborhood,instead of the established one i now reside. i may be painting a bleak picture of my surroundings. i live amongst hard working people. people who love their home and do the best they can. many of whom will never know monetary wealth, for whom everyday is a struggle to make a better life for themselves and their children. people like me. who are doing the best they can the best way they know how. good people. however they try the will never get beyond this barrio/barrier.
will i? i don't know. i yearn to break free, yet i can't seem to get far enough to even see what it is i'm trying to break away to.
i desire to have the pleasure of home ownership again.
for cool stone floors and warm inviting walls. a place to call home.

woke up quick, at about noon.............
well i didn't have to be in compton but my head was all stuffy and my nose was running pretty good. and well i knew i should take some medicine to make me feel better. so i got up and well i left the cold medicine in my truck, all i can say is damn was it bright this morning. damn near blinded me walking to my truck. oh well got the goods and now i'm back inside. i took the pills, but i'm not feeling as good as normal when i'm sick and take them.

as he entered the dark garage he confidently walked to his bike, zipping up his jacket and putting on his gloves. he swung one leg over the seat and fumbled with the key switch, it stuck from time to time and required a light touch to make it turn. once the ignition was turned on, he reached down and tickled each carburator to give a little extra gas for starting. reaching down with his right hand he pulled the kick starting pedal out with a reassuring click letting him know it was firmly locked into place. he picked up his heavy boot from the cool damp pavement below bringing it to rest on the kicker. in one fluid motion he twisted open the throttle and brought his weight to bear on the quiet engine. in the same instant the engine roared to life. while letting the bike gently warm he double checked his gloves and cinched his jacket a little tighter, adjusted his wieght on the machine, and slid his dark glasses down over his eyes. after returning the kicker pedal to its home postion, he moved the transmission into 1st gear. while letting the clutch out with one hand he began to accelerate with the other, out of the garage into the street and gone into the bright sunshine, the exhaust rising and falling with the shifting of gears, fading into the day.

that sucked you didn't get to dj, you even had ppl come out to see you...maybe this week?

i'm really bummed that i didn't get to Dj last night. not only did i go and buy a new CD player for last night, i had a great theme i my head. i was gonna try and do the whole night of bad women, or just songs about women in general. i was figuring on doing alot of country, oh well i guess i'll save it for another time. i just hope i'm in the mood when the next night comes around.

Last night I broke the seal on a Jim Beam decanter
That looks like Elvis
I soaked the label off a Flintstone Jelly Bean jar
I cleared us off a place on that one little table
that you left us
And pulled me up a big ole piece of floor

I pulled the head off Elvis
Filled Fred up to his pelvis
Yabba Dabba Doo, the King is gone
And so are you

'Round about 10 we all got to talking
'Bout Graceland, Bedrock and such
The conversation finally turned to women
But they said they didn't get around too much
Elvis said, "Find 'em young"
And Fred said "Old Fashioned girls are fun"
Yabba Dabba Doo, the King is gone
And so are you

Later on it finally hit me
That you wouldn't be 'a comin' home no more
'Cause this time I know you won't forgive me
Like all of them other times before
Then I broke Elvis' nose
Pouring the last drop from his toes
Yabba Dabba Doo, the King is gone
And so are you
Yabba Dabba Doo, the King is gone
Andso are you

Last night I broke the seal on a Jim Beam decanter
That looks like Elvis
I soaked the label off a Flintstone Jelly Bean jar.........

well not much is going on these days. just working and partying. went out last night and had a full blown panic attack. went out with the princess last night to Kareoke with her friends. all was to be well and good. but however i have not felt more outa place in along time. i just didn't belong there. i ended up haveing a horrible time, and on top of it i was paying outrageous drink prices. somewhere in there i began to feel insecure as well, and well my insecurities where fueled by feeling outa place. then bam next thing i know i'm having a panic/anxiety attack.

ok my dream last night/this morn was pretty weird. it was much like the Paris dream except this time i was supposed to be in Bagdad. allthought it did not look like bagdad, it looked like a old european city, with the exception of everythign being written in ariabic. there was skinny wet streets, and old grey buildings. everywhere i went there where american flags. and hand painted signs welcoming american troops. i remember going into a church, the church was massive, and brilliantly adorned. the odd thing about this church was in the front of the church was a several hundred year old piano. the odd thing was the piano, legs and all, was carved from a solid peice of marble. it was carved very romanesque, and we were told it took along time to get it to resonate like a wood one. then there more narrow streets and rain. for some reason my travling comapions and i had to get to a store onthe other side of town. nobody believed that i knew where i was going, but i proved them wrong when we finally arrived at our destination. from there we had to wind our way back across the city to a party. but i had to go to the hospital because my shoulder was hurting. when i got to see the doctor, he told me my shoulder hurt because i had been drinking and driving, then he told me he called the police to arrest me. i argued that he had no proof that i was drinking, he told me my hurt shoulder was proof enough.
then i woke up.

Last Cigarette - Dramarama (138 bpm, 4:25)
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Hey hey it's been so long since I have writhed with opinion
Oh its sharper than a sabor I don't feel like Earl Flinn
Got no computer I can't type the letter M
You know this song aint right I guess I better start again

Well I can tell this fellow is hungry got a dozen mouths to feed
He asks for money for a bus pass and my heart beats
I throw him a dollar is exactly what he needs to get another jug of thunder
But that not all he's asking for...

Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette
One before I go to bed
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette
One before I go to bed
Ohhhhhhhowhoooooo ohwohwoahaohwhoooooo ahwohohhhooooo....

I know it's killing me, yeah I know its killing me
yeah I know its killing me, yeah i know I know I know I know I know I know..
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette
One before I go to bed
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette
One before I go to bed

Shut up!

Its getting late you got to get the kitten fed
You got to kiss the little woman, put the children into bed
Check the sports and weather and a liven and a yeah yeah
You don't have to hear the headlines you can hear what Jonny Carson said

Oh mister sand man won't you listen to me please
I'm saying, I'll stay in bed but I'll pretend I'm on my knees and praying
One for my hunger and another for greenie..
Just forget about my end and all and give me what I need I need a

Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette
One before I go to bed
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette
One before I go to bed
ohoaowhaohwhoooo hwohaohwohoooo h howhwohooooo..........

I know its killing me, I know its killing me, I know its killing me
Yeah I know I know I know I know I know I know ....
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette
One before I go to bed
Last cigarette, last cigarette, last cigarette
One before I go to bed


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this is still a little quirky for me. i'm not totally used to writing out my thought. usally my thoughts are just notes on scraps of paper just to figure out math or suplies that i need to get. but after reading my archives it seems that i have more to say than i thought i did.

my dog is a nut. sometimes i just don't understand him. maybe that's why i'm a human and not a dog.

not much going on these days. just plodding along. i think i may have taken too much time off work this month. it's been weird lately. it seems that every other month is good and every other month is bad. i'lll work for damn near a month starigh, then take some time off, then bamm i'm no longer caught up and then i gotta bust my ass to catch up. i guess one of these days i'll get around to better manging my time and money

so, i tried again for the umteenth time to start a FOD but alas this time it won't let me write in the damn thing. wel i guess i'll just stick to this one.

Cramp and Flamtrick Subs, nuf said!

nuthing to say today

well it's another wednesday. it's raining. i have been working on the house for close to a week. the landlord wants to inspect the property. i know i shouldn't be worried but for some reason i am. it may be a sub-conscience memory of military inspections. where everything had to be perfect. i'm worried that i'm supposed to have an outside dog, and i have an inside dog, because when i put him out, he gets out of the yard. i keep blocking his egress but he finds more. when i lock him in the house, he eats it. the house that is. so far i have replaced everysingle mini-blind int he entire house at least twice, some three or four times. on top of that the carpet is destroyed. my only saving grace was it was in poor condition when i moved in 1 1/2 years ago. my last worry is that i have a roomate i am not supposed to have.
i don't really know why i am worried. when i pay the rent, which i have been only late three times, twice my fault;for which i called everytime, i have paid the rent on time and in cash. i don't know why i am woried. he has been the most accomadating and helpful landlord i have ever had. besides whats he gonna do? give me demerits? make me work weekends?
an hour later
well everything went fine. he didn't even come past the living room hallway, and was complentary of my work to the hard wood floors. then we stood on the front porch and BS'ed for another 45mins. whew. i don't know why i even woried. the good thing is i made repairs to almost everything my dog has destroyed. and i now have a clean house to live in for the moment. i say moment because i know, if i don't keep on top of things, like i promise everytime i clean the house, that it will become the pigstie the i allow myself to live in.