Gone...for now...

i hang elsewhere lately.

http://justinwatsonjames.com

An unloved place.

It would be pretentious and untrue to think that anyone missed my posts in the last year. It's the same sort of sentiment a young person applies to their personified journal. "I'm sorry it's been so long diary..." That sort of mentality is natural I guess. We want to believe our words have power and meaning to more then just ourselves.
Enough rambling for this late night.
Be swell non-existent readers. Stay that way or get that way as soon as possible.

clark and deming

it's -7 degrees out before windchill. my face hurts thinking about the walk i just made. you may be asking yourself, why would anyone walk in this weather. well i am staying with my mom temporarily.
my mom is rehabbing our late 19th century home. walls are coming down. pipes are going in. usually i am not there during this construction. today i was.
a piece of ceiling hit me in the head.
the electricity got cut off.
i cannot think in complete sentences right now.

mind spillage - part I

I've got more then a few things to say. I'm not sure where to start. That's the beauty of modern writing though. Nothing you "type" is set in stone. There is no permanence anymore. There is truly little left in these modern times that is constant and unchanging. Some might see this as a reason to give into one of the many religious outlets that exist. I do not fall into this group.
I purposely got lost in a more then a few suburbs of Chicago today. I had some extra time and a borrowed car. I drove down windy streets with neat lawns and perfectly paved streets. It made me uncomfortable. Maybe it was the consistency, the lack of originality or just all the McCain/Palin signs I saw. But I wanted out and to never return.
I am rambling.
For the last month I have been playing Tetris with groceries at Costco Wholesale. I'm the guy with the name tag and the friendly smile asking if you would like a box. Have you ever been asked if you wanted paper or plastic while checking out of a grocery store? It's a simple question that you usually already have an answer to. For whatever reason, when I ask someone if they would like a box, they freeze. It's like I've asked them if they want accept christ into the hearts. They stare at me. Look at the box. Look back at me. I swear it takes some people 30 seconds to answer this simple question. Then they might change there mind midstream. It is absurd.
The dryer is buzzing. Time to fold clothes and hit the road.

When I look up the sky is blue, but sometimes it's not.

Last night a friend of mine told me that Cincinnati, OH sees less sun then Seattle, WA. I don't know if this is true. A hasty google search returned no data supporting this claim. However, It got me thinking.
During my several years in Ohio there were countless days of sunless existence. Just like so many other people who have heard the term, Seasonal Affective Disorder; I believe that the lack of sunlight in the Midwestern winters destroys my mood.

When I sat down to write this I had some sort of direction, but I have lost it now.

Sorry.

Maybe next time.

Summer Fading with Train Tracks

Some recent photos.

a childhood forgotten

my dad was always a mean son-of-a-bitch. he had a propensity for finding unique ways to punish me.
when i was 7 i wanted to see how fast i could go in my red radio flyer wagon. so one day i tied my blanket around my neck like a cape and pushed my wagon down to where my dad had parked his truck the night before, half on the lawn and half in the street. i attached the metal arm and plastic handle to the hook up on the back of my dads white pick up. i waited in the back until it got dark then dad, beer in hand, hopped in his car.
i had not anticipated the lack of oil in this rusty pick up, the smoke was thick and tasted what i would eventually describe as LA. i flew the four wheels bounced around and i had to hold on for dear life, but i was flying. when we got to the franks, the local bar everyone out in front was laughing at my dad. he reacted by throwing the half empty beer cans all over the cab at his laughing friends. soon after he discovered my little experiment.
he was not laughing. i thought i had flown on the way there, boy was i wrong. my dad picked me up and spun around and launched me like a shot-putter. i must of flown 15 feet in the air. i found myself tangled in an old evergreen tree. i don't remember much after this. the police showed up soon after, i did not speak to them.
the next day my dad bought a u-lock and walked me and my radio flyer to a bike stand. he locked my radio flyer to it. then he pulled a ham sandwich out of his pocket.
he placed the keys between the moldy bread and day old ham and told me to eat it. i sat there and swallowed to silver keys and spoiled food for ten minutes. now, finding the keys a few days later is an entirely different kind of story.