Dalton

Bathing in some stranger's shower while a former male prostitute does my laundry lecturing Sweetwater on the necessity of rinsing our filthy clothes before washing them, and how he is up every night till 3 am doing piles of strangers filthy laundry.  That is all we are to this strange man running the Bird Cage as he calls it; strangers. Little does he know how much his little token of hospitality to all of us in his home means so much and he will never be forgotten by the masses.  A non stop blur of faces in and out of his multiple bedrooms while he picks us up and spends an evening entertaining and allowing us the comfort of a home so many of us no longer take for granted after our months long excursion without one.  Sweet Sweet is still trying to wash the grey mud of Vermont from his bare feet before Rob will even let him in the house, to no avail. Even after his shower and his attested scrubbing they are still black.  But in the end with nothing more to offer than a promise of future charitable donations, Rob hugs Sweet Sweet only to be remembered so affectionately and tearfully in the near future as the greatest reward of our town stop; a hug.  The smallest amount of human affection so easily taken for granted in rush of busy city life where we shun our neighbors and avoid strangers altogether; one man's random act of kindness to another is the greatest reward for lonely, cold, wet travelers who no longer take anything for granted other than the sore aching joints, the cold of the rain, and the reward of our nightly shelter.   In the morning we leave happily walking out of Dalton, remembering it as Massachusetts vowing not to slow until New York.  We wander off.

Shrimparoni

Here it is folks, write it down, because it is badass.

1/2-2/3 lb. chopped shrimp
2 jalepenos (minced)
5 cloves garlic (minced)
1/2 onion (minced)
1/2 bunch of cilantro (destemmed and chopped)
1 lb macaroni
1 3/4 cup milk or 1 cup heavy cream
3 cups sredded cheeses of choice
flour as needed
butter as needed
olive oil as needed

First boil your pasta to al' dente (set aside)
then sautee' shrimp in some olive oil with vegetables
while this is going on make a basic cheese sauce, I start with a Roux (butter and flour)
you just start to melt the butter and add flour untill you get a paste (careful not to scorch)
then add milk and reduce for a moment, once milk starts to bubble, start whisking in cheese. stir constantly until thick and creamy. I then mixed my shrimp concoction with the pasta and poured the cheese sauce throughout. topped with a sprinkling of cheese and baked at 450 for a half hour.

delicious

Porno, Prosthetics and Prose

I just want to take a moment and thank PornHub or any of the bazillion of its affiliates or wannabes for taking human kind to a new low; the place where many of us including myself dwell.  This world of disgusting unfathomable acts, beyond imagination and depravation.  I myself have found myself wondering how it is I have come to witness such things only to realize that all I have to do is hit the letter "P" and the return key and BAM!  I am lost in a world of depravity that turns the stomach, even of a pervert like me.  That is saying alot.  I mean I see shit I would be scared of at the Dentist's office being used for intimate acts that only scream of ...... what? The only answer I have is Holy Shit.  I don't like a lot of what I see.  I doubt many people do.  I think that it is just such a shock value that we cannot look away.  Next thing you know you choked out that prostitute, that you had piss all over you while suspended from rings in her chest, with the bull whip she was beating you with. Fuck what do I do now.  All I know is lock up you kids, V-chip everything, CENSORSHIP, Hell, home school.  I remember jerking off to the damn Sears Catalog and now kids can pick any flavor they want, they can even watch live if they have debit/credit card.  But hell in the end it is true.  The reality is the porn industry and real life is just wrapped up in shame. Misplaced shame that knows no true purpose.  I might not see Eye to I with a lot of it,but we should all know our little piece.  If men without legs weren't meant to walk, man wouldn't have built him legs.

Nothing of Worth

fretting, fussing, fighting
never quite writing
just tippy tapping the tippy taps
there is always the reverse key
pause
hovering, hunched, thinking
something, anything, Internet linking
fables of foresight forever in motion
last chances taken, lost hopes forsaken
nothing has ever been quite just for the taking
snuff
flooding back across the plains
light from many evening sunsets
westward pinkness and greys
ponderances preposterous
lost in liquidation
silence

an opening statement of sorts

And then:

2:15 in the morning. Or really late at night, how ever you want to look at it. All I know is that I just lived some more of the same ol’ bowshit, bowshit, bowshit, that seems to be my everyday now. I woke up at I dunno; a little before noon, and that is of course after waking up perfectly productive at 8:30 but deciding that more sleep was definitely the best way to utilize this free time.

So then there is laundry, auto repairs and of course Facebook before off to work at 2:00 pm. So then there is quite a bit of heavy drinking, short term stress and a chunk of change in my pocket before being freed from the public service of feeding/impressing the not so massive masses around 12:00 am, Only to dash to some other poor slob’s slavery and see if they will service/impress me at this late hour. Service was had, impressed? Not so much. Good people acting stupid to the sweet sounds of freedom in an hour long set of some other friends dream of making it. Little do most of us realize that this is it. We have made it. Our now is when and our present is always, but there is so much available to distract us, so as to avoid the controversy of living. So here I am having chosen to avoid the norm. Refuse to Work, Watch TV, Sleep, Work, Watch TV, Sleep, Work… You get the picture. So in nonconformity I chose to Work, Drink, Sleep, Work, Drink Sleep, Hike, Work Drink, Sleep, Work, Drink, Sleep, Hike. This alone is bound to keep me sane and avoid being another number in the monopoly of society. So now we go, go down that road we have all traveled. We explore ourselves. A wise person once said. You know who you are by observing your friends. This is so true. Enter the Crew.

Enos: Evan Ray, the Grand Jaywalker was a lanky kid with a beak on him and a mop of blond hair that the ladies seemed to go ape for. Bomb builder, Speed racer, Lady Killer Extraordinaire, had nothing on me.

C- Murder Grand Master C , El Blaxican` ruled this domain for the height of its domestic as well as international esteem. The Hub of Daleville and the true home of the DVC, we used to light that place up. If there wasn’t a boxing tournament in the basement, it was ping-pong, or skateboarding. An occasional celebration would be known to prompt a sporadic Bong Olympics. We might have been good-hearted juvenile delinquents, but we thought we were hard.

Employment

So I want a job. Or should I say I want a career? Or maybe I should just be honest and say I want money. I don't want a job, I don't want a career. Hell the last thing I want to do is work. Well, that is any serious labor, anyways. I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. I bust my ass all day long at some bullshit 10 dollar an hour job where I risk life and limb on a day to day basis and come home with enough money at the end of the month to just squeak by. I mean if I am lucky I got to keep ice cream in the fridge and have few drinks on the weekend. Of course the drinks weren't had in public because it would have to be a real serious special occasion for something like that. So I went to college, I got good grades, I worked my way through school and come out making less money with a degree than I did going in without one. So now what? Do I go back to slinging pizzas and working the section, go back to school, or start a business? With over 18 rejection emails in the past two months from my resume's southwest Virginia tour, I feel whipped, tossed, and forgotten. I just want to have purpose. I would like that purpose to have more meaning than selling cellphones or working insane hours jut to maintain a nutritional diet. This day in age a man working one week a month at minimum wage, participating in government aid programs such as foodstamps, Wic, Medicaid and the sort has more expendable income than the man working for 60,000 dollars a year. Tell me that is not fucked. I have over 100 competitors in most job postings I apply to and all employers want to maintain a certain amount of distance between you and them just so as they don't have to commit. I feel as if the world of blind job postings and apply online only institutions only deter me from wanting to work for an organization on their lack of personability and professionalism. The lack of professionalism in this world these days wether it be of my would-be employers, colleagues, or friends is down right offensive. Most recently I was laid off from a job as a carpenter, but I wasn't laid-off per-say, as much as I was just ignored by my employer of the last year. No personal talk over performance or lack of work. No hey I'm sorry, No fuck you, your fired, nothing. I had actually asked less than a month prior to being let go if I needed to worry about such things and was told no. With todays ease of communication, smartphones, texting, social media and the like people forget what it is like to be human and feel that there is no condition of there own that someone else could possibly share. So don't worry I know you called, I got your voicemail. I will probably think about it while I cyber-stalk you on facebook.

I got to get mine to give you yours.

So it is all about money. Wether we want it to be or not, we need it, we use it, we work for it, we covet it, the world revolves around it. In the frugal state I have been in these past few months I start noticing things, like how much I like ice cream or what I notice other people spending money on, especially our money. I watched the city of Roanoke invest over 50 man hours and numerous hours in equipment over the past three weeks to replace a bike rack downtown. A perfectly good bike rack, I might add. I am sure we could have used the bike rack somewhere else. Now this fancy shmancy bike rack is sucking up all the glory on Salem and Market leaving the historic dog fountain just another oddity of the corner. So I ask myself at tax time; what the hell am I paying for? All the conservatives are worried about regulation and the oversight of an outside interest. I am worried that if someone doesn't show someone how to do it right it will never get done. Walking in circles of a never ending inefficient cycle. As long as we pay for it we condone it as right. Every time you eat the wrong order or cold food, you allow slop work, or fail to understand cost you are contributing to the problem of inefficiency. I am fed up with the slack ass society that allows sub-par mediocrity. I am not a victim, I am the cause. Therefor I can at least exercise the right to complain, bitch and tell someone how to do their job where seen fit. I mean really is the art of bagging groceries gone forever. Why do we still supply disposable bags at grocery stores? I mean to me some things are obvious and somewhere, someone deserves to be slapped. I have to go get mine now. Don't worry. You'll get yours...

Answers to the first question.

What the hell is this?

This is the culmination of everyday observations of the masses at large and mindless ranting of a man whom believes he is always right. Wether or not this is the case will be for the masses to judge. By masses, I mean anyone unfortunate enough to stumble across my meaningless word vomit. My "O" button doesn't always register, I am not the best editor, and I am a bigoted, hypocrite. So, don't act like you haven't been warned. Well, here it is: BLECH....