Monday, September 19, 2011


So, I don't have much to say. Not in the mood to write. I'll tell the tale of taking Fin and BG hostage for a three hour tour maybe tomorrow.

In the mean time, I'm heading to the port to dump grain, cut brake lines, mess up rail cars and such, hold the guards hostage and get away with it under the veil of collective bargaining. I'm immune to consequence because I'm talking UNION here. The Ballistic union of underachievers. Well maybe some of the rank and file will get their wrists slapped, but since I'm the UNION BOSS I can't be prosecuted. It is a legal thing from 1973. Enmons decision. Since this is a "legitimate union objective", I'm in the clear.

Some other underachieving union is getting my work and I can't let that go unpunished. I'm the victim here, and anyone who says different is a racist tycoon who will get smashed to bits.

Should be an early night. The port activity won't take but a couple of hours. Then we'll all go to the Ballistic hall and watch tv, wait for the evil producers and transporters of goods to cave, and watch the money roll in. We'll expect pay for days we might have worked had they actually hired us instead of someone else. It will be fun.

Too Many Wake Up Calls

Despite the many indications that maybe I should change the routine, I tend to do no such thing. Now that friends are arriving in a nearby town for the night in just a few hours I am suddenly aware that there is no way to make my place hospitable in less than a few days.

Too much stuff, too little space, and it is all jumbled with little organization. I've had times when it was well hidden so it wasn't too hard to half way be able to offer something less than a frightful hermit hovel experience. Not so today.

I guess I'll show them where it is help them navigate out to the back deck for the view, then be on our way. It is definitely a mental illness and I hate that. But it is a step this side of the line from jumping off a cliff or taunting a cop into shooting me. That is progress in my existence. Something inside, very deeply rooted, constantly tells me that earth would be better off rid of me, or that I would be better off rid of me. That is not a good thing, so I generally try to keep it at bay. But I know that is what keeps me in a state of environmental chaos and out of the loop--distant from friends and much of life.

Whatever the deal, I'll meet them in Pine Valley and hope my car is not too dirty for their sensibilities. I have no small vacuum to take care of it, it is hot today and the do it yourself carwash with good vacs is 20 miles away in a place that is even hotter than here. Timing wouldn't work overly well.

I did what I could to make room and remove things from the car but there are few places to put many items I'm using for current work. Thanks for febreeze. I have used liberal amounts, spraying into vents and all over everywhere. It tends to work fairly well.

It is clear that I need to have to do a lot of things every day, and that I need tons of exercise. I am not comfortable with letting myself go to the point of having an old man's body. You can only fake it so long, then the truth wins out.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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