Can't see it from my house

Hamboree?

I think I landed an invitation to the social event of the year. The ham radio convention takes place once a year in Timonium Maryland. My friend Jay and some of his tech nerd buddies go, and last night I think he sort of invited me. “It's the biggest gathering of the biggest nerds you could ever see.”, he said. “It's chick repellent, and we were like, the coolest guys there!”
Jay proceeded to taunt me with story after story of out-dated, over priced circuitry, Harry Potter impersonators, geek power and rain storms on out door vendors. I was jittering with delight. My ties to any sort of social scene have been broken for years now. Yes, ever since my roommates moved out and got lives of their own, and my good friend/neighbors sold their house and moved...my family and I may as well live on the moon. People never really call me for gatherings of coolness and friendship, fellowship or pirate ship. It's been so long since I've hung out with people on the outside world that now, indeed it may be too late and I'll already feel like a freak. Yeah, I'm a now a social freak.
Yeah, damn straight I'm a freak and I'm going to be with my brothers come March 27 and 28, 2010! Yeah! It's the greater Baltimore Hamboree and Computer fest. Holy shit. I just looked at the website for this event, and there is an opening count down clock....counting down for all us geeks. Right now there is a time of 28 days, 08 hours, 32 minutes and 44...43...42 seconds until the opening and my nipples are perked with excitement.
Oh and this is exciting news...

“WE HEARD YOU!!! WE'RE GOING BACK TO ONE DAY ADMISSION TICKETS!!!”

Well, what can that mean? That people were pissed that they had to buy a ticket for the whole weekend? I bet. I know I'm looking for the weekend pass. I'm personally a little pissed that I can't get a two day admission ticket. What the fuck? I know you could last year.
Hopefully Jay and his nerdy buddies are into getting a cheap motel room for the weekend too. Yeah, after a day's worth of shopping around for over priced circuitry, we could get wild and trash our room like rock stars. Something I need to do before the Ham fest (I saw it also called that on a website promotion) is get a radio handle. That is, an FCC license number. If I get one, then Jay said you could get it embroidered on a mesh hat, right there at the boree! Awesome!
No, I won't be inviting any one else. Sorry. It's not for cool people. It's for us...the freaks. Yes, you may have read that it targets amateur radio and electronics enthusiasts of all ages and backgrounds. Yes, they attract civilian, government and marine attendees from Maine to Florida...yes...you may have read that and so did I, but, you are not invited. Jay said this was an event where he and his geek brigade were the 'coolest guys' there. I'm not messing with these odds by inviting some of my friends that no doubt may weigh in greater than Jay and us on the cool scale. Sorry. Maybe next year. Maybe...

Tiny Excerpt from my play...

While I'm blogging, I decided to share a quick piece from this play write that I'm kind of dabbling with.\]p(All rights reserved and all that...surely now one wants to steal this junk) It's gonna be about these small town dudes who find themselves and their beliefs changing as modern times creep in on the small town. I don't really have character names picked out yet or a real plot, other than what I just mentioned.

In this scene, there's two buddies driving around after work in a truck... an old rusty Ford, with a rust habit and it's known for starting every time on the first crank of the key. The bed is empty, except for a tow rope and a bail of straw. The hand made gun rack was stolen from behind the seats by an accused local...

Random Stranger Conversation 1

“I'm telling you the guy's an asshole. He's been a fucking dick since the day he was born. He don't care about anybody but him...and that fucking jack off brother of his. He's dicked so many people over around here, it's a wonder he could walk down the street without people just ...straight up kicking him in the nuts...fucking dick.”

“He used to work at the tannery”

“Fuck that place. Dump. It used to be a good place to go...'till they started hiring fucks like him who just come in and fucking ruin it.”

“He bought my brother's truck”

“He fucking wrecked your brother's truck. THEN he bought it...for about half it was fucking worth. Some one oughta just punch him in the dick for that alone...that was a nice fucking truck and his drunk ass just fucking wraps it around a tree....and walks away like a dick...unharmed”

“He prolly should have been dead”

“Goddamn right....that would have sucked. People around here would have forgot how big of an asshole he was; just because he died being an asshole. Ain't that fucked up? -Be a dick your whole life and then people think it's so sad when you die being a fucking dick. Fucking dick. That was a nice truck.”

“They say they've been seeing a shitload of deer over by Ronnie's”

“No shit? You wanna go over there then? See if he still minds if we try and bag one down there? I hadn't seen shit the last three years. 'Almost sold my tree stand three times in the last two years. I swear. Man, that'd be great to fucking bag one this year. I didn't even go out second season last year...so pissed.”

“Yeah...we could go over there then. I gotta stop at home. Should I roll a joint? We could get a little blazed before we head down there then there.”

“Naw, man. I can't. You can. I swear I can't fucking smoke weed no more. -I get so god damn whacked out. Too damn stoney for words. Then I get all paranoid and shit. I don't know, man...it's like the shit is just too damn strong. -It ain't like when I used to burn 'em down.”

“Stop at the tannery for a sixer?”

“Hell yeah....and a shot. I was there last Sunday but it was bad news. I hope they ain't still pissed....but you gotta admit, dude; that race was fucking bull shit. Mary said I said something to some dude and he left all pissed...whatever”

“Are you two still trying to...”

“Hell no. She hates me. I've been a pile of shit since I got back, and I don't think she really wants to put up with it no more. I tried patching it up a little bit before the race, but then after two bullshit rain delays, I was fucking tight and couldn't no body talk to me. I guess it's my fault, but I don't know dude...some days I'm just like-”

“Oh dude...just drop me off here. I'll just run in and be right out. I wanna let her out before she shits in the house or chews up my chair again.”

“Oh shit. Yeah...I almost drove right passed.”

Ten minutes go bye...

Truck door opens....

“Jesus...what'y'do? Rub one out while you were in there? Little horny are you?”

“Nah...I wish. She shit just about every where”

“You're feeding her too much...you want her to be a fat fuck like you? One cup. Dry food. Get mine at path mark. With a coupon it's like they're giving you the shit.”

“She's allergic”

“You're allergic. She's not. Should have crate trained her ass”

“Ah...I don't know man. That seems kind of cruel”

“Yeah...cleaning up shit all over your house is a dream, isn't it? Crate training's the only way, dude. They fucking love it. It's like a little cave. They're dogs, dude. What do you think she's going to do while you're away all day? Laundry?...you gotta crate train.”

“I don't have a crate”

“I got two. Only use one. You can have the other....HOLY SHIT...what did you do? Stuff those turds in your pockets? My god that's a smell on you. Jeez. I can stand anything but the smell of dog shit...my god. Fucking dogs, man...I mean I love 'em more than most people, but that smell can go to hell...god damn. That shit's the worst...It's worse than anything”

“Ahh...shit. It's on my boot. Sorry, dude I wanted to change but I was trying to hurry. Pull over. Let me stomp in that puddle a bit. I can get the worst of it.”

“yeah, jeez.”

truck pulls over and man gets out to clean his boot in stone filled puddle

man gets back in truck and pulls pot cigarette from behind ear

“Yeah, light up that bone and get the smell out! (laughing)”

(coughing) “you sure you don't want some? (coughing) good shit”

“Ah. What the hell. Smells good enough”

Man passes joint back to other man. Joint passed back again to driver, who declines. The two drive silent to the tannery. One hit man asks the other to just run in and grab a sixer of 'pounders'

“I'll just stay out here, I wanna let the truck run...it's getting cold.”

“Oh, you just don't wanna see Mary.”

“Yup.”

“Ok..be right out”

Man runs into packed corner bar and returns to warm truck in mere seconds with six pack in brown bag.

“That was packed”

“It was quick, too...she said you're chicken shit”

“Yeah?...”

“Yup”

“That's my girl”

“She said 'see you sunday'”

“Bristol!”

“She said you'd say that”

I'm just plowing, lady.

I was assaulted verbally by a raging neighbor today during snow removal. She pointed. She shook fists. I had no idea what she was talking about and smiled politely. I had no idea what she was talking about and left her words lay frozen on the ground between us, to stare at. I practiced pacifism at the time, but spoke very cruel words about her later to co-workers.

She bickered with a silent 'dumb fuck'. 'Dumb fuck' had no possible answers to her bleeding statements. It was cold and her tone made 'm neck hurt more. The tone she pointed at me offended.

Silence is the greatest art form in conversation, and at this time my paintings were priceless; for silence accompanied her hurtful lashings.

I thought of things to say such as: “Wow...you've really got your panties in a bunch” or “You seem extra bitchie yelling at innocence”. These would have been fun phrases, but would have stirred up some shit no doubt. Instead, I studied her demeanor and wished it change for her loved ones. -They deserved better and; would sadly learn this hatred in time to come. Internally I hated her, but smiled frozen on my surface symbol.

I nodded certainty with her blatant beating of my existence. Somewhere in her house, someone was happy that she left. I looked in their direction and took one for the team. I heard her every word, but could only imagine what it would be like if she would just shut the fuck up. This thought amused me.

I readjusted my hat and yawned. She took offense to my yawn and began shouting more questions that I had no answers for. I shrugged and thought again of her brow beaten family members; at home in peace waiting for Satan's return. I could hold off her flame for them if I remained silent and bit my tongue until it bled.

Finally she returned to her warm car.

I sat motionless for a moment and wondered if I should do again whatever it was that pissed her off in the first place. The thought quickly bored me and a crew member brought me a coffee. Thank you.

She sizzled off in her minivan and I plowed again.

Wintertime Rolls

Dude this winter is killer. This photo was taken in January. It's at the end of a shitty day forming foundation walls.
I like concrete as much as any one...maybe more. Foundation work is not really like concrete work. Five percent of it is concrete. The rest is just mule work. Fucking bad ass mule work. Lifting, dragging, cussing, climbing and fucking dying. Hell, it pays, but it's for the dogs. It's for mean dogs. The guys pictured have no faces. They have no emotions and let their blood freeze and thaw on a regular basis. They may hate the boss but may not know love. That statement is unfair. I'm talking for everyone. Maybe I hated the boss and knew no love during these days. At the same time I was thankful for him and everyone there. I froze and burned with hatred but did it loudly and shamefully. -Not like the other men. When the going got rough I cussed and threw tools toward foreman, later to not apologize. God could have forgiven me for the awful things I said in those days, but I would no doubt use the same curses over and over in the freezing weeks to come. Many minutes were spent in freezing shame.
The upright post looking thing in this picture between the sun and the left-most man is the concrete pump. The concrete is poured into a bin on the back of a large boom truck. The bin churns the concrete and pistons pull and push the mixture through two hundred feet of line. The piece of line seen in this photo is the end...or the hose. It's like a big rubbery trunk at the end and it spews concrete into the foundation forms. The hose man communicates with the pump operator through hand signals and abrupt gestures. The other men follow, making sure proper amount of concrete is placed, while smoothing the surface with tools and placing anchors for future framing.

Towards evening, the poured wall must be covered with thermal blankets. The chilling wind turns these blankets into kites of sorts and men cuss to the heavens trying to cover efficiently. My beard continually catches in the metal zipper of my work coat and forces me to growl like an angry bear. I don't know the other men's thoughts at this time. They speak in four letter words of frustration to each other and myself. It is clear that we all chose poorly in careers. Some of these guys quit school. Some were in the armed forces. Me? I still don't know what the fuck I'm doing here, but believe me; this is a shitty job; and awful way to make a living. A living? Yes. But it's unfair the man you become in the stretch of these days.