Hehehehehehehehehhehehe

Finally saved up enough to buy the bike I've been looking at (and because the 06 models are coming out early this year, I got quite a discount. I was out the door for $100 over MSRP. Hot damn!!!)
Now for the fun part, learning to ride it.
I'm far enough off the beaten path that I can practice without having to worry about traffic, but the down side is that if I wreck, it could be several hours before anyone finds my silly mangled ass, so I have had to be cautious. But hey, everybody has to learn sometime right? (and whats the point of being a single man working 50+ hours per week if I can't cut loose once in a while?)
So far I've put about 70 miles on it (all on back roads), but I'm still not quite comfortable enough for a trip to the city. Having a blast though.

Cheers.

Thankyou Mr. Landlord.

At least my new place is more scenic and modern than the one I just moved out of. (Not only do I have paved road access, but I have some marvelous views out of the back door)

View Forward.

View Down.

View Left.











View Right.










Hey, at least its not a trailer.

Go salaí maorlathaí míthrócaireach do chuid fo-éadaigh, go n-ithe cúnna ifrinn do thóin bheagmhaitheasach.

I don't understand why the gaelic languages are dying. They are incredibly colorful and adaptable (much more so than english). They are also incredible versatile when it comes to giving someone a really impressive cussing.

(As I understand it, the rough translation of the title is "May a pitiless bureaucrat soil your underwear, may the hounds of hell eat your worthless ass", but I couldn't tell you for certain. It looks damn impressive though:)

Dry Rot.

Mid July summer heat haze over the blacktop twists visions from the uncomfortable landscape of slowly expiring trees and cooking grass.
Early morning is fuel-rich exhaust and boiled sap, sleeping hornets, soap, and dew dampened dust.
Mid-day is enveloping darkness and the damp concrete smell of warm stale swamp cooler.
Sweaty men with their anger, apathy, melancholy and desperation.
Rail thin leather skinned ladies with sagging tube tops, stale tobacco, hard use and 90 proof breath.
Late afternoon tastes like paving tar and creosote timbers, warm beer and a slow harmonica solo.
Evening is nostalgia, crank case oil, forgotten laundry on the line, constant sickly chatter of the oscillating fan.


Restless.

Nothing important.

Remember me?
Partner in crime,
out to save the world,
or take it over.

You always had the glitter,
calling coins and cons,
rolling knucklebones with impunity,
never constrained by the numbers.

Today I saw you,
didn't see me,
wouldn't see me,
couldn't see me.

Another mindless drone,
ball bearing in the machine,
anonymous shadow skirting the corners,
single note in the ceaseless background noise.

Answer your cell phone,
cough or blink and I begin to fade,
one more pointless daydream,
a trivial distraction in an already hectic world.

Don't forget your purse,
pda,
keys,
phone.

Hope it works out for you,
we'll have to do this again sometime.
I'll see you around,
you won’t see me.

Damn turkeys.

Watching a wild tom pace back and forth in front of a length of hurricane fence.
Too frightened to come toward me,
instead attempting an escape through bars that are just slightly too narrow.
Suspended slightly above ground,
facing away from me,
legs kicking,
with that mournful yet frightened chirping.
Too stupid to go around,
too lazy to spread his wings,
unwilling to flap and flop his way over to the other side and freedom,
alone and jilted by his failed attempt at wooing a stump.
Panicked and silly and at his wits end,
finally gently persuaded to take flight.
A wing, a prayer, and the humor of a stranger.
Damn lucky I don’t feel like plucking turkey today.

Ain't I just a ray of fuckin sunshine?

I'm back to being tired and angry again this week.

In international news.
First we have the bombings in London, which they now say have killed over 50. Though I hate to say it, I'm concerned that the pain and anger and frustration currently being felt by the survivors is only the beginning for them. Its not bad enough that these people have been injured, have died because of this foolishness, now their deaths (and the fear and pain surrounding their deaths) will no doubt be used to the benefit of those in this country who have been (for the last several years) using terrorist actions for the advancement of their own personal agenda's. Bad as loosing a loved one is, I can't imagine what it must be like to have to just sit there while some asshole politician uses your pain to put money in his own pocket. Moreover, I know that the majority of people are frightened and predictable enough that they will just sit back and allow the stripmining of their personal freedoms and liberties in order to secure the temporary illusion of safety. The whole situation angers me immensely.

In personal news.
The infection in my left foot has gotten worse. The other day during a 14 hour shift it split open and started oozing bleeding so bad that it managed to soak through my bandage, my sock, and the end of my work boot before I got home. The doctor put me on another round of antibiotics, 2000 mg per day. Hoping this clears it up but since I walk about 12 miles a day at work I'm not overly optimistic. Damn I'm tired.

Although I normally never do the chain letter thing...

Well M, I hope this isn't too boring, the best I could come up with I'm afraid.



You're stuck inside Fahrenheit 451.

It has been close to twenty years since the last time I read this book, afraid I don't even remember the story line.


Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

Not that I recall, a few crushes on real characters though, a couple crushes on tough characters, and more than a couple on people with no character...


The last book you bought is?

"The Master Bladesmith, (advanced studies in steel)" by Jim Hrisoulas.
ISBN 0-87364-612-6


What are you currently reading?

"Edge of the Anvil, (a resource book for the blacksmith)" by Jack Andrews.
ISBN 0-87857-168-8

"Search Dog Training" by Sandy Bryson.
ISBN 0-910286-94-9

"Napalm & Silly putty" by George Carlin.
ISBN 0-7868-6413-3

"Island of the Sequined Love Nun" by Christopher Moore.
ISBN 0-380-81654-7


Five books you would take to a deserted island.

"Wild Fermentation (The Flavor, Nutrition, and Craft of Live-Culture Foods)" by Sandor Ellix Katz
ISBN unknown.

"Flintknapping" by John C. Whittaker.
ISBN unknown.

"Celestial Navigation in a Nutshell" by Hewitt Schlereth.
ISBN unknown.

"Boatbuilding (A Complete Handbook of Wooden Boat Construction) by H. Chapelle, Copyright 1994.
ISBN unknown.

"US Army Survival Manual: Reprint of Department of the Army Field Manual" , author unknown.
ISBN unknown.

Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?
Most likely Tom, Judy, and Robert, because they will probably have more interesting answers than I do. (Sorry folks:)