Some days dont come with funny titles

Im uncomfortable in my own skin and feel like ive been in one place too long. I hate people knowing where i sleep. Im not overly fond of people. The infection in my hand led to me passing out for 2 days but seems a little better but I dont really care. Truth is ima hedonist. Truth is I was never a very good person. Then God started talking and…do you know what its like having someone nag you to help people 24/7? To hear all about the loveable qualities and prayers of everyone you meet? Even if they shit all over you? All the while your own prayers dont get answered? It sucks. I want desperately to hit the road but I promised 5 years to the slabs. To helping however I can. On the 24th its 1 year down. I miss my little boy so bad I wanna die but unemployment is taking forever on backdating my claim so no car or way out yet. Im so tired of stressing about food. Im so tired of stress.

Yo Ho Yo Homies A Slabbers Life For Me

I somehow ended up at the internet cafe and pirates this morning. Rhubarb told me to come say hi and for whatever reason I want to sculpt a chess set i have no actual use for, and hes an avid player so after some morning drama (my ride is an asshole and took off with my stuff) I ended up stuck there. Not really its less than a mile away but its hot and im lazy and the pirates and Charlie the bike guy are good guys so I got lunch stuff with some of the donation money (love you guys) and you shoulda seen their faces light up. Met a guy who has gone 3 states on a bike and the cafe made sweet tea and Charlie grouched at me like the grouchy old man he is. Jessica is hilararious and told me how sad it was when pirate Rob left cuz the crew can barely feed themselves. They seemed great to me though and theres a lot of cool art around, ill have to walk over for tea more often.


So I fell down this wall a few days ago straight into a pile of thorned branches. Now my arm is so swollen my hand is numb. Then last night my neighborhood bully set a huge fire. Im fine, everything is fine but…blah

Just felt like whining to my one loyal reader. I look at the stats everyday and someone comes and reads a couple posts in order like theyre reading the whole blog and the?realization seriously made my week.

I dont get out much.

This Rainbow Tastes Like Hell

Its so freaking hot my skittles melted. In the shade. They coagulated into one giant skittle and I was forced to taste the entire rainbow at once.

I know I said the heat doesnt bother me but damn, it was too much rainbow.

(For some reason the above post is hysterical to me. My brain might really be boiling at this point.)

Wait, Ricky Martin Is Gay?

Headed to Mexico. I think. That direction anyways. I dont know why…living mi vida loca or some shizz. All I know is when a mexican shows up and says “I got a car are you permitted to leave the country?”

You just say “i guess border patrol will let us know” and hope youre too old to be sex trafficked.

And I aint caught the covid in espanol yet. (So guess who absent mindedly handed a joint to a complete stranger in a hotel parking lot earlier. We both just kinda shrugged and muttered about social distancing being difficult when youre socially retarded.)

Anyways I guess ill let ya’ll know if i wake up sans kidney.

Would You Like Fries With That?

I have a questionable past in a lot of ways. Ive been punched in the face so many times I have brain damage – obviously that isnt normal. Im not overly scared alone in the slabs cuz I can fight, if I have to. Probably. Im kinda old and crippled these days. But let me tell you about the worst job I ever had – enforcement. No not the law kind (LOL) the kind that enforces things if you have the right money/power. Mainly it was if someone owed money to some shot caller or MC.

I was introduced to it in true autistic literal fashion – I started dating a guy who laughingly told me he repo’d cars. He was friends with my best friend Chris. They laughed I nodded then found out much later what he did was force people who owed an MC I wont name money to sign over their cars. He looked like an accountant and was kinda terrifying but for awhile cried every time he saw me. Said i broke his heart. It was so awkward and weird.

So when I was looking for money quick I was told I could work enforcement and be the lure to get guys out in the dark alley so to speak. Being bait blows. Many of them, upon realizing what id done, would start swinging. I worked with 2 guys mostly, Keith and Kyle. Those names though.

In my head they were the ambiguously gay duo.

Anyways they tried to intercept and were pretty solid, if violent, guys…but I got my i’s dotted endless times. Im sure its one more thing im headed to hell for but you can make thousands in a few hours and honestly id take a punch right now for a few thousand.

I also worked 3 years at Walmart as a cashier, and that was some shit too.

Misery Disagrees And Would Like You To Fuck Off

If you live in the slabs you will eventually get yelled at for something that makes no sense and/or have to endure someone loudly arguing with the voices in their head about whether or not your an asshole or deserve respect. Just accept it, apologize if theyre really belligerant, and get on with your life. Theres some fights you cant win – the voices will always vote asshole.

I thought I’d At Least Get A Handbasket

Its hot. Its so fucking hot. For hours each day you can do nothing because even going 60 down the highway the air is so hot it’ll burn your skin. You have to stay in the deep shade or you will be a puddle of sweat in seconds – sweat streaming into your eyes so you’re blind.

Whats it like living in the slabs? Moist. In August I would describe it as moist, yep. With all the smells that implies. And the bugs. Oh dear God the bugs. There is a special place in hell for slab bugs, the only things that seem to be thriving.

Summer in the slabs is dark. Its knowing exactly when the sun goes down but not what day of the week it is. Its knowing your neighbors and sharing ice cold drinks and low conversations by the low glow of solar with the sound of music and generators drifting through the thick air.

Its the strum of a guitar and voices talking and competing with Joeys barking and waiting your turn for Ken to make your burger at Wranglers Roost.

Its crickets so loud they hurt your ears.

Its creeping yourself out with thoughts of bodies and murderers and evil spirits while walking to the canal to cool off and clutching the cold ladder with a death grip.

Its the smell of cow shit so thick you can cut it with a knife.

If you’re a misfit toy its the only free range asylum on earth and its home.