Last night, I watched a documentary on Hunter S. Thompson.
In addition to writing, hallucinating, and starting gonzo journalism,
he enjoyed guns... hated the NRA (of which he was a member)... but loved guns.
It reminded me of my first gun experience:
Dusk in Montana...
bouncing up a mountain road after work.
The sun plummeted below tree-spiked ridge lines.
Pam propped the 270 rifle on pillows atop her car hood.
I remember bracing for the recoil, listening to instructions,
through stuffed ear-holes.
The trigger obeyed smoothly
And my scope encircled target briefly flamed...
Like a match...
becoming the sun in my eye.
BOOM - Boom -- boom the canyon announced.
I knew I hadn't flinched and ran to find the two holes I had punched
through cardboard
from 50 yards away.
"Getting one as soon as possible"
I noted to myself and grinned.
The twilight was all but gone,
Shadows spilled out onto the open ground...
pooling like rising water...
and all were shades of gray and black.
The last shot was mine,
and the cross-haired target was barely there.
I exhaled waves of an echoing Crack
laced with the odor of spent gunpowder
and then came the tiny white flakes.
From above
they floated all around us.
"Is it snowing??"
Couldn't be that cold.
Nope, it wasn't snow.
A tiny corner of the support pillow had reached up to block my barrel,
leaving the scope sight free.
Of course,
the hungry bullet ate through CAMO fabric with one jagged bite,
launching a sack of Styrofoam pellets skyward
and freeing them to cascade down in stillness.
Like so many snowflakes
or falling stars.
I bagged my first kill.
Proudly I strutted my prize
through the kitchen.
"Hey hey!" said chef Brian,
"Got a Grouse?"
"Nope"
I raised my trophy with flourish.
"I shot a pillow."
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Monday, January 5, 2009
Consume
Curious,
she looked at me with half a smile
Somehow knowing my intentions were not the obvious.
"Can I help you find anything, sir?"
Just browsing.
Perhaps I had failed to hide my amusement
dodging jostled single-purposed bodies.
I watched and took notes.
The distant back corner of Target was busy.
Shelves were dismantled
And random merchandise
had consolidated themselves
in diminishing space.
The "Chili Cook-off Champion Set" neighbored disco ball ornaments.
An entire stand was nothing but Italian novelty chocolates.
What an odd cornucopia of Christmas commodities.
The Island of Misfit Toys may have survived this year's wrapping,
But were in danger, invaded by next year's deal-hunters.
Like nausea from eating too much candy,
The plastic poinsettias framed bad gifts
that had lost their luster...
replaced by 75% off signs.
The clash erupted
an air of panic and earnestness.
Bloodhounds craze bound to the scent.
Quick to get their fake snow-dust fix.
No harm meant to them who smartly shop.
They expose such holy materialism
By cutting corners,
shopping after others
are eggnog hangover hazed.
Supply and no demand:
The All-American Morning After Holidays.
I watched and smiled
seeing our culture's shroud
part to reveal the mating dance
of such relevancy:
Religion and Currency
Christ and Economy.
I happily waved adieu
to the Christmas Shopping season of '08.
Blood at the beginning,
Rich people still bitching
That we didn't buy enough.
This post is dedicated to the memory of Jdimytai Damour:
Trampled to death in a Wal-Mart by crazed shoppers on Black Friday '08.
“It was crazy,” said a worker in the electronics department who was in the store during the stampede. “The deals weren’t even that good.”
MSNBC article
she looked at me with half a smile
Somehow knowing my intentions were not the obvious.
"Can I help you find anything, sir?"
Just browsing.
Perhaps I had failed to hide my amusement
dodging jostled single-purposed bodies.
I watched and took notes.
The distant back corner of Target was busy.
Shelves were dismantled
And random merchandise
had consolidated themselves
in diminishing space.
The "Chili Cook-off Champion Set" neighbored disco ball ornaments.
An entire stand was nothing but Italian novelty chocolates.
What an odd cornucopia of Christmas commodities.
The Island of Misfit Toys may have survived this year's wrapping,
But were in danger, invaded by next year's deal-hunters.
Like nausea from eating too much candy,
The plastic poinsettias framed bad gifts
that had lost their luster...
replaced by 75% off signs.
The clash erupted
an air of panic and earnestness.
Bloodhounds craze bound to the scent.
Quick to get their fake snow-dust fix.
No harm meant to them who smartly shop.
They expose such holy materialism
By cutting corners,
shopping after others
are eggnog hangover hazed.
Supply and no demand:
The All-American Morning After Holidays.
I watched and smiled
seeing our culture's shroud
part to reveal the mating dance
of such relevancy:
Religion and Currency
Christ and Economy.
I happily waved adieu
to the Christmas Shopping season of '08.
Blood at the beginning,
Rich people still bitching
That we didn't buy enough.
This post is dedicated to the memory of Jdimytai Damour:
Trampled to death in a Wal-Mart by crazed shoppers on Black Friday '08.
“It was crazy,” said a worker in the electronics department who was in the store during the stampede. “The deals weren’t even that good.”
MSNBC article
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Inside camping
Unrolled the sleeping bags in front of the fireplace.
Uncorked the bottle of wine.
Our eyes and the blank walls made wild plans
of the domestic persuasion.
The home where I hang my toothbrush
now tangible
grows lumps and piles of boxes in corners.
It grows a Christmas tree.
and slowly the home on my back
unfolds itself around this crackling fire.
Base Camp.
Uncorked the bottle of wine.
Our eyes and the blank walls made wild plans
of the domestic persuasion.
The home where I hang my toothbrush
now tangible
grows lumps and piles of boxes in corners.
It grows a Christmas tree.
and slowly the home on my back
unfolds itself around this crackling fire.
Base Camp.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
How to Sew
Written Saturday November 29th
.................................................
I feel extremely lucky.
Today I realized what it means to be without health insurance.
Yin and I did a little doctor shopping.
Take a guess.
Question: How much does it cost for 10-15 stitches on a Saturday night in Durham?
.................................................
While the skin on my leg was still one, I waited for a phone call.
The ring came while I was mountain biking down Suburbia Street.
We got the apartment.
Translation: passed the credit/background/criminal/employment/rental history checks (standard these days)... we had the apartment.
The most perfect, tiny, walk to work, sun-baked writing room, fireplace apartment.
All I needed was dough for the down payment, and maybe a little something for ramen.
But life was good, I had a week of solid work ahead of me.
Cakeride.
Time to work on my bunny-hop... ride good fortune's wave all the way home.
If I could jump half as high as I was, I'd clear the vinyl-sided burb-box beside our wood-planked hurdle.
Mountain bikes have spiky pegs on the pedals.
Purposed to help your feet lift your back tire over the crocodile pit, or whatever you aim to clear.
This is called a bunny-hop.
My feet didn't stay on the pedals.
Instead of staying on my feet,
the pedals carved a canyon in my shin.
Pretty deep. Wanna See?
(Not for the hemophobiacs)
Time to shop for medical attention.
Yin spent an hour on the phone describing my laceration to walk-in-clinic and emergency room receptionists.
We got a decent number of quotes for extremity sutures before saying screw it.
Answer: Stitches by a doctor cost anywhere from 400 to 750 bucks.
Now there may have been a tinsy $130 first time visit fee, but you also got a special!
Pay up front, get 30% off.
Goody Gumdrops.
Incidentally, if you can't pay upfront... shouldn't that indicate you need the discount more than someone who can pay? Ahhh the smell of capitalism in the morning.
And, god bless em, emergency rooms won't turn your distressed ass away. But they will at some point during your happy stay with them, introduce you to their financial "advisor" to set up a payment plan.
I know what that is, I'm still working on a couple payment plans for the diploma.
Basically my first month's rent (and therefore any future rent) was on the line.
Now, many Americans don't have health insurance. I'm guessing less have a friend willing to sew up an un-anesthised gashed and grinning Nate.
Strangely, I feel lucky saying that.
But hey, people have done this type of thing before,
in times of war on battlegrounds I'm sure.
I prepared myself by drawing a booze drenched curtain over dancing nerve endings.
Fortunately, via a connection, we were able to pick up supplies from a medical supply store.
I now keep surgical strips and tegaderm readily available. The tape worked, and the wound stayed closed.
I was drunk for nothing now, but felt genuinely pissed anyway.
Now, what happens if you don't have someone who can buy medical supplies for you?
This health system is bullshit.
Americans, the first step to fixing a problem is admitting we have one.
A-greed?
Yeah, there's nothing wrong with privatized, free-market run health care...
as long as you're cool with shopping for docs while you bleed all over the place like you shop for auto mechanics.
Or maybe you prefer paying every month for insurance and still paying for an injury because of a legal free-market-backed loophole in your coverage.
I chose neither, but I was lucky.
We are so afraid of the big bad socialist under the bed that we let capitalists get opportunistic on very important things:
Homes, Health, Education.
In this get-now-pay-later cosmos only one outcome remains.
Debt.
I'm not asking for all out Red, just a little Pink regulation maybe.
Draw the line somewhere. Behind that line no person can be exploited in present or future.
Let's start with the children.
Enough preaching, I'm going to go heal.
By the way, I only ended up spending $40.
.................................................
I feel extremely lucky.
Today I realized what it means to be without health insurance.
Yin and I did a little doctor shopping.
Take a guess.
Question: How much does it cost for 10-15 stitches on a Saturday night in Durham?
.................................................
While the skin on my leg was still one, I waited for a phone call.
The ring came while I was mountain biking down Suburbia Street.
We got the apartment.
Translation: passed the credit/background/criminal/employment/rental history checks (standard these days)... we had the apartment.
The most perfect, tiny, walk to work, sun-baked writing room, fireplace apartment.
All I needed was dough for the down payment, and maybe a little something for ramen.
But life was good, I had a week of solid work ahead of me.
Cakeride.
Time to work on my bunny-hop... ride good fortune's wave all the way home.
If I could jump half as high as I was, I'd clear the vinyl-sided burb-box beside our wood-planked hurdle.
Mountain bikes have spiky pegs on the pedals.
Purposed to help your feet lift your back tire over the crocodile pit, or whatever you aim to clear.
This is called a bunny-hop.
My feet didn't stay on the pedals.
Instead of staying on my feet,
the pedals carved a canyon in my shin.
Pretty deep. Wanna See?
(Not for the hemophobiacs)
Time to shop for medical attention.
Yin spent an hour on the phone describing my laceration to walk-in-clinic and emergency room receptionists.
We got a decent number of quotes for extremity sutures before saying screw it.
Answer: Stitches by a doctor cost anywhere from 400 to 750 bucks.
Now there may have been a tinsy $130 first time visit fee, but you also got a special!
Pay up front, get 30% off.
Goody Gumdrops.
Incidentally, if you can't pay upfront... shouldn't that indicate you need the discount more than someone who can pay? Ahhh the smell of capitalism in the morning.
And, god bless em, emergency rooms won't turn your distressed ass away. But they will at some point during your happy stay with them, introduce you to their financial "advisor" to set up a payment plan.
I know what that is, I'm still working on a couple payment plans for the diploma.
Basically my first month's rent (and therefore any future rent) was on the line.
Now, many Americans don't have health insurance. I'm guessing less have a friend willing to sew up an un-anesthised gashed and grinning Nate.
Strangely, I feel lucky saying that.
But hey, people have done this type of thing before,
in times of war on battlegrounds I'm sure.
I prepared myself by drawing a booze drenched curtain over dancing nerve endings.
Fortunately, via a connection, we were able to pick up supplies from a medical supply store.
I now keep surgical strips and tegaderm readily available. The tape worked, and the wound stayed closed.
I was drunk for nothing now, but felt genuinely pissed anyway.
Now, what happens if you don't have someone who can buy medical supplies for you?
This health system is bullshit.
Americans, the first step to fixing a problem is admitting we have one.
A-greed?
Yeah, there's nothing wrong with privatized, free-market run health care...
as long as you're cool with shopping for docs while you bleed all over the place like you shop for auto mechanics.
Or maybe you prefer paying every month for insurance and still paying for an injury because of a legal free-market-backed loophole in your coverage.
I chose neither, but I was lucky.
We are so afraid of the big bad socialist under the bed that we let capitalists get opportunistic on very important things:
Homes, Health, Education.
In this get-now-pay-later cosmos only one outcome remains.
Debt.
I'm not asking for all out Red, just a little Pink regulation maybe.
Draw the line somewhere. Behind that line no person can be exploited in present or future.
Let's start with the children.
Enough preaching, I'm going to go heal.
By the way, I only ended up spending $40.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Does Unity Exist
A while since last I wrote...
More humor to laugh...
Too much to candy coat.
Like a PC with too much back noise
slows.
Do you ever freeze,
See the moan
fear the crow...
Of ghosts and king.
Of martyred mass and upturned pinky toe.
At times humanity
Tastes like bile's dry heave.
And then you see something like this:
Musicians on streets
Sway to the same beats.
Like Grandpa Elliot
in the French district,
no talker can compare.
Politicians beware
the day the masses sing in unity.
http://www.playingforchange.com
More humor to laugh...
Too much to candy coat.
Like a PC with too much back noise
slows.
Do you ever freeze,
See the moan
fear the crow...
Of ghosts and king.
Of martyred mass and upturned pinky toe.
At times humanity
Tastes like bile's dry heave.
And then you see something like this:
Musicians on streets
Sway to the same beats.
Like Grandpa Elliot
in the French district,
no talker can compare.
Politicians beware
the day the masses sing in unity.
http://www.playingforchange.com
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Steer Riding
So here we have a video edited by Lindsay Ludwick, one of the wranglers, of some steer riding.
I am so jealous I missed this by a few days.
Brittany, my badass woman, is the one in the converse with the long hair about midway through.
Her ass has recovered.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
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