It used to be huge. Everything was huge. She didn’t have a party, she had events. Summer parties for a hundred of her closest friends and food and drinks for two hundred. If you were her friend you were a close friend.
The circle was huge.
There were no simple acquaintances.
Ringing the cow bell from the car, for every mile of a 200 mile bike race. And laughing. Laughing and ringing that bell for 14 hours. Every time she saw me she’d yell, “you got this bro…” Every time. Continue reading It used to be huge→
Can’t we lose the Right – Left bullshit for a couple of days.
Can’t we keep the sitting president and his entourage and secret service away so a tragic situation doesn’t become worse? He can be much more effective seeing to it that Federal resources are available to this area, these people.
Have people lost the ability to think, to stop and think?
Fifty inches of rain. That’s the equivalent of forty FEET of snow.
A major US city underwater and I see posts from Pete King about how he’ll vote for aid even though Ted Cruz didn’t for NY and Sandy.
Shut up. All of you, shut the fuck up. Right – Left – stop it.
We’ve lost sight that people are dying here.
Did anyone see the nursing home underwater?
These people need help. Way more help than NOLA got during Katrina.
If you can’t help, at least have the decency to shut up and stay out of the way.
Cant we cut the crap and act like the Americans we so proudly and boldly claim to be?
He turned and looked at me and said, “These machines, this equipment was built by a good man, good men who went to work at seven in the morning every day and brought their sandwiches in bags and on weekends they played baseball and drank beer and they took their families on picnics on Sundays. When they died people went to their funerals and genuinely wept because men like this would be missed in a community, the community was somehow diminished by the passing of men like these. They built things that were good and strong. These old machines are their legacy. They still work and do the job they were designed to do long after these men have passed. We will never be men like this, we will never understand men like this. We are another type of men. There is no good in men like us. Sometimes I come out to this barn just to be alone with this equipment and try to understand what it must’ve been like to be the man who built such things. To be a good man. A simple and good man.”
Then he looked over at me and said, “What will our legacy be, nephew?”
With that he turned toward the barn door, stopping to wait for me as I let his words sink in.
As I joined Unk he continued, “We live in a world without walls to contain us or boundaries. But, we come to learn we cannot trust anyone. Allegiances and allies change, seemingly by the minute. Your right hand, the guy you always trusted, you end up putting a plug in him because he fucked you over. Life happens, keep moving.
We lose touch with who we were, we lose our life before this. Every day in the life pushes us farther and farther away. We lose the simple things. We lose right and wrong, they are ever changing. Right and wrong are simply a result of circumstance. A condition of the now.
This is not mine, I wish it was, it was written by a FaceBook friend, Rachel Taylor, and shared with her permission. It highlights the hypocrisy. I think back to the infamous Bill Clinton BJ in 1995. What a roiling waste of time and money that was.
I found out this morning the little girl – the who we can’t name or share her picture, the one born addicted to heroin, the one born blind, the one born deaf in one ear, is now “profoundly brain-damaged.”
I am so fucking done loving the addict and hating the addiction. This little girl and her story have tested my belief system about as far as it can be tested.
I was up last night thinking about a rant on child protective services and how they are doing everything in their power to keep us from raising money for this little girl, but you know what, fuck that.
I am an addict, but one day in 1993 I was able to dig down underneath the layers and layers of self-pity in denial and bullshit and touch, for one brief moment, what was left of my humanity. You cannot be a bigger addict or a bigger asshole than I was or am, for that matter. If I can anyone can.
If you are using and pregnant you need to do one of three things: you either need to pull your head out of your ass, walk away from your denial and get into a program and work the fuck out of it, or you need to abort that baby, or you need to load up that spike with enough dope to kill five motherfuckers and take care of the problem now.
Monday I was driving through the Black Dirt, it was ninety-five degrees.
The temperature coming off that dried muck had to be near one hundred, if not more. I’ve never felt hot like that particular and peculiar hot coming off those goddamned fields.
In Orange County, in the 1970’s, to have worked out in the Black Dirt is a rite, a passage, it is something you did so that forty or fifty years later you could tell the stories with authenticity. Continue reading The Black Dirt→
It is not about Hillary or Trump, and for what it’s worth it’s not about Bush II or Clinton or Bush I or Reagan or Carter or Ford. The accumulated clusterfucks of these past administrations have now come here to haunt us. The recent election is long over so please stop talking about Obama to me. Stop talking about Hillary to me. They are no longer relevant to the current conversation.
The situation today is desperate. It is not about Russian spies and American cowards. These are all simply symptoms of the disease that is killing us, all of us, quickly.