With a clean slate I continue to diddle my own prayer chakra:
Take this test , Flojo, it's good for the Onanistic Index:
http://www.eclecticenergies.com/chakras/chakratest.php
God bless cosmic masturbation, and hello, Doreen.
I pray to that guy too,
--Z
( Flojo reaches for poison keys, finds keyboard corrupted by Onanistic Cosmic beam . . .throws Solipsism Escape Switch . . .)
Christian, Muslim, Jew, Buddhist, Wiccan: None of the Above
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Zlatko Waterman
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Zlatko Waterman
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perezoso
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Zlatko Waterman
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Zlatko Waterman
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Doreen Peri
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
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I don't know about my chakras, not that curious, but my balls hurt, that butcher that reversed the vasosectomo thing cut them tubes a little too short.
I suppose what set me off was that Neruda was a marxist poet, now that is a improtant thing to know in case the professor hits us with a pop quiz
did I need to know he was a Marxist, why is that important. could he not be a poet
"Someone's always trying to tell them
Something they already know
So their anger and resentment flow" WZ
mostly though it is sour grapes with me
being a college professor can warp your personality
like being a dealer
mr lazy bear yu are a worth advisary, that hollywood post of yours was pretty good, the bit about a man is judged by how powerful his enemies
I suppose what set me off was that Neruda was a marxist poet, now that is a improtant thing to know in case the professor hits us with a pop quiz
did I need to know he was a Marxist, why is that important. could he not be a poet
"Someone's always trying to tell them
Something they already know
So their anger and resentment flow" WZ
mostly though it is sour grapes with me
being a college professor can warp your personality
like being a dealer
mr lazy bear yu are a worth advisary, that hollywood post of yours was pretty good, the bit about a man is judged by how powerful his enemies
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
I came back to edit that last post of mine, or least spell check it and fix the typos.
I am looking for that hollywood post, Jeramiah Johnson and Legends of The Fall
well I was thinking about the funny one you did about Jesus,
Jesus is easy, Mohammed takes a special effort. You could always wind up as the cartoonist for Al Jezeera.
peace
I will not molest your post farther.
you got the last word professor
BUT
I think I will jam that hollywood post some more.
I am looking for that hollywood post, Jeramiah Johnson and Legends of The Fall
well I was thinking about the funny one you did about Jesus,
Jesus is easy, Mohammed takes a special effort. You could always wind up as the cartoonist for Al Jezeera.
peace
I will not molest your post farther.
you got the last word professor
BUT
I think I will jam that hollywood post some more.
I have cursed God. Maybe you were meant to ride around in limos, man.
At 41 was for me 16 years ago, so in December, 1988, I was at my first XMAS in old St. Pete. I was living in a slumlord apartment in the 300 block of 8th St. North, working for Manpower, making about $125 per week, when the third floor apartment was torched. The fire was put out, but building condemned. The apartment cost $150/month, so was OK except for the roaches and the drunk out back who threatened me whenever I got around him.
I moved to another apartment house owned by the landlord on 8th Ave east near the Northshore Park, but it cost all of $55 dollars per week and there was always a congregation of drunks out back. On December 26, 1988, I moved out, got a storage space with Barnie's storage out on Gandy Blvd. It cost $40/month for a 5X10 ft space, was gated, man, with 24 hour access. I slept out on Gandy out where the fishermen are out all night near the old Gandy bridge across Tampa Bay, before the new one was built. It was not so new-fangled then....there was old campers, vans, and other cars out there. I had a spot near some bushes, on the north side of Gandy there near the water.....it was so peaceful. I slept diagonally in my old Chevette....The cops would patrol regularly and they never hassled me....I hung towels in the windows to keep out the light.
It was OK. I felt lonesome, but had WMNF counter culture radio also I went to two drawing groups each week, the Art Center of St. Pete on Sat mornings and the Tampa Museum on Wed evenings. I stayed with the St Pete Art Center drawing group for at least ten years; I knew them longest and first before anybody else. I would go in there shaking and scared and draw. It was very therapeutic.
I also had a friend at the Manpower office, Connie? Creek. I did not have a phone, but would drive down to the Mobil stop and shop at the corner of Gandy and 4th St. Nth and call from a phone booth early in the mornings. She would set me up with different jobs.
I worked all over Pinellas County, light industrial. Some places would have a shower, yippie. Otherwise, I had this thing down at North Shore Park swimming pool. I'd pay $1.25, go swimming and they had a hot shower there! I had to go swimming as a cover, tho.
Also this was during the time that I'd given up drinking, from August of "88. Living at the old first apt. the Moving Wall was down at Straub Park north of the St. Pete Art museum. I would go out there at night when the other vets were out there. They were playing Billy Joel's lament, "We will all go down together." I had been counseling at the Vet Center, when was told that they were only to counsel the heavy combat vets. This was in the summer of "88. I was hanging out down there and feeling stressed. I went back to the crib. I was drinking some beer, not alot, but every day. One evening about then, in the summer, I'd bought a beer by walking out to a store after dark, a quart beer, and was threatened by a kid and also approached by a drug dealer. I got back home, drank half the quart and realized that I felt worse. I went to sleep and the next morning I poured out the rest of the beer and did not drink again for 3 & 1/2 years.
But it got worse at first. The fire at Christmas season in "88. I was living in my car on Gandy Blvd. I ate good, tho, would go to Wendy's on Gandy in south Tampa and get their all you can eat pasta bar for $4....I saved about $800 by not paying rent and, oh yeah, I bought clothes at the Goodwill out by the dog track, also a plastic tub that I'd wash up in, inside of my storage space. I also would drive out to Ft. Desoto Park and use their cold showers whilst spending peaceful time. Once when we had a cold front that winter, I drove down to the Keys, more car sleeping.
I also drove up to the mountains in north Georgia, and over to Ashville. I was feeling lonesome and distressed about what to do. I stopped at some country intersection and this red neck yelled at me, "Go back to Florida!"
I remember feeling angry and sad. I yelled out and cursed God, whilst driving the ever present freeway, a flashback to my hiatus of the previous year, driving for weeks and weeks and months, mission staying, flop houses, lonely haggard hotels, working as a laborer in Texas and Arizona, all since leaving Shreveport in May of "87 at 40. I said explicitly a curse to God,I said, "God Damn God!" repeated it several times while headed down east towards Savannah, March of ''89.
I stopped there in the morning, old part of town, was just stopped, resting. I saw this strange couple walking down the road. The guy was dressed in black. He had a huge skull, bony, looked like a strange scary fellow, with big black glasses....His lady was also strange looking, with big jaw bones. They both looked at me and smiled. She gave a slight wave. It was familiar as tho I had seen them somewhere before. Maybe Rainbow family at the gathering I stumbled through while vagabonding out west in Oregon in "80. They passed by. I got a chill and drove back down to Tampa Bay and my spot on Gandy by the water.
Early next morning, in April of '88, I got up early. I saw a pelican fly by. There was this large block of concrete, a buffer for the waves. I stood up on it to take a look around, slipped on the fine algae wet with morning dew, fell into the water. My right hand was cut open at the ball of the thumb, 3 inches a clean cut from a barnacle. I could see the muscles clearly. I started to get nauseous and pass out. I crouched down low and prayed for help. I held my hand up and it was not bleeding My head cleared.
I wrapped it in a towel, drove to the Mobil station, called the V.A. hospital emergency room and told them I was driving over. They took me in right away, swabbed and washed the wound, stitched it up real nice. It never hurt.
They asked me if I was homeless. I said yeas. They offered me an interview to stay at the veterans domiciliary. I went there, was offered a bed. I went inside and talked with some vets. They were all chain smoking cigarettes. I asked them about the "butterfly notes" I was to get left on my bed at various daily intervals. They were for appointments. It felt too confining.
I left the V.A. drove back into town and bought a paper, looked for rooms to rent. I went to this one house on the corner of 8th St North and Burlington near downtown, 1/2 block from my first apt. It was a nice rooming house with an old lady who lived downstairs, Gladie. she said, In a deep southern genteel drawl, "Why we'd just love to have you come stay with us!" all for $45/per week, a real haven. I met a fellow vet, Nam Vet, who was also a temp laborer. It was a wholesome safe haven for me. I stayed there a year.
By then I was 42. I got a regular gig evenings with Manpower at a flashlight factory and did the CNA program at PTEC. Summer of '89. Gladie was 89 and was leaving to stay with her kids. The house was closing down. I noticed that the guy who I was working with at the flashlight factory up on Bryan Dairy Road in Largo lived right across the street on the northeast corner of 8th st N. and Burlington. I moved over there, another old rooming house, with a small NON AIRCONDITIONED room at $140/month....It was peaceful and friendly.
I stayed there, got a job at a nursing home as a CNA making g an incredible wage of $6.25/hour and felt important. I also got back with the Vet Center, with a new director.
Not bad for a former air Farce cargo pilot, street veteran war protester. conscientious objector to American imperialism.
I stayed there at the Simkins place off and on for the next several years while earning my LPN and RN and working later at Bayfront. It unfolded; I was blessed.
Now at 57, I feel tired a lot. My future options are less geared towards achievement and more towards a "chop wood carry water" sentiment.
I still have bad days, but the frequency is much less.
I have never ridden in a limo but I live in a house with a wife and a life.
My religion is "chop wood carry water" but like to diddle with my chakras.
Eienstein had an eye for the bewildering.
At 41 was for me 16 years ago, so in December, 1988, I was at my first XMAS in old St. Pete. I was living in a slumlord apartment in the 300 block of 8th St. North, working for Manpower, making about $125 per week, when the third floor apartment was torched. The fire was put out, but building condemned. The apartment cost $150/month, so was OK except for the roaches and the drunk out back who threatened me whenever I got around him.
I moved to another apartment house owned by the landlord on 8th Ave east near the Northshore Park, but it cost all of $55 dollars per week and there was always a congregation of drunks out back. On December 26, 1988, I moved out, got a storage space with Barnie's storage out on Gandy Blvd. It cost $40/month for a 5X10 ft space, was gated, man, with 24 hour access. I slept out on Gandy out where the fishermen are out all night near the old Gandy bridge across Tampa Bay, before the new one was built. It was not so new-fangled then....there was old campers, vans, and other cars out there. I had a spot near some bushes, on the north side of Gandy there near the water.....it was so peaceful. I slept diagonally in my old Chevette....The cops would patrol regularly and they never hassled me....I hung towels in the windows to keep out the light.
It was OK. I felt lonesome, but had WMNF counter culture radio also I went to two drawing groups each week, the Art Center of St. Pete on Sat mornings and the Tampa Museum on Wed evenings. I stayed with the St Pete Art Center drawing group for at least ten years; I knew them longest and first before anybody else. I would go in there shaking and scared and draw. It was very therapeutic.
I also had a friend at the Manpower office, Connie? Creek. I did not have a phone, but would drive down to the Mobil stop and shop at the corner of Gandy and 4th St. Nth and call from a phone booth early in the mornings. She would set me up with different jobs.
I worked all over Pinellas County, light industrial. Some places would have a shower, yippie. Otherwise, I had this thing down at North Shore Park swimming pool. I'd pay $1.25, go swimming and they had a hot shower there! I had to go swimming as a cover, tho.
Also this was during the time that I'd given up drinking, from August of "88. Living at the old first apt. the Moving Wall was down at Straub Park north of the St. Pete Art museum. I would go out there at night when the other vets were out there. They were playing Billy Joel's lament, "We will all go down together." I had been counseling at the Vet Center, when was told that they were only to counsel the heavy combat vets. This was in the summer of "88. I was hanging out down there and feeling stressed. I went back to the crib. I was drinking some beer, not alot, but every day. One evening about then, in the summer, I'd bought a beer by walking out to a store after dark, a quart beer, and was threatened by a kid and also approached by a drug dealer. I got back home, drank half the quart and realized that I felt worse. I went to sleep and the next morning I poured out the rest of the beer and did not drink again for 3 & 1/2 years.
But it got worse at first. The fire at Christmas season in "88. I was living in my car on Gandy Blvd. I ate good, tho, would go to Wendy's on Gandy in south Tampa and get their all you can eat pasta bar for $4....I saved about $800 by not paying rent and, oh yeah, I bought clothes at the Goodwill out by the dog track, also a plastic tub that I'd wash up in, inside of my storage space. I also would drive out to Ft. Desoto Park and use their cold showers whilst spending peaceful time. Once when we had a cold front that winter, I drove down to the Keys, more car sleeping.
I also drove up to the mountains in north Georgia, and over to Ashville. I was feeling lonesome and distressed about what to do. I stopped at some country intersection and this red neck yelled at me, "Go back to Florida!"
I remember feeling angry and sad. I yelled out and cursed God, whilst driving the ever present freeway, a flashback to my hiatus of the previous year, driving for weeks and weeks and months, mission staying, flop houses, lonely haggard hotels, working as a laborer in Texas and Arizona, all since leaving Shreveport in May of "87 at 40. I said explicitly a curse to God,I said, "God Damn God!" repeated it several times while headed down east towards Savannah, March of ''89.
I stopped there in the morning, old part of town, was just stopped, resting. I saw this strange couple walking down the road. The guy was dressed in black. He had a huge skull, bony, looked like a strange scary fellow, with big black glasses....His lady was also strange looking, with big jaw bones. They both looked at me and smiled. She gave a slight wave. It was familiar as tho I had seen them somewhere before. Maybe Rainbow family at the gathering I stumbled through while vagabonding out west in Oregon in "80. They passed by. I got a chill and drove back down to Tampa Bay and my spot on Gandy by the water.
Early next morning, in April of '88, I got up early. I saw a pelican fly by. There was this large block of concrete, a buffer for the waves. I stood up on it to take a look around, slipped on the fine algae wet with morning dew, fell into the water. My right hand was cut open at the ball of the thumb, 3 inches a clean cut from a barnacle. I could see the muscles clearly. I started to get nauseous and pass out. I crouched down low and prayed for help. I held my hand up and it was not bleeding My head cleared.
I wrapped it in a towel, drove to the Mobil station, called the V.A. hospital emergency room and told them I was driving over. They took me in right away, swabbed and washed the wound, stitched it up real nice. It never hurt.
They asked me if I was homeless. I said yeas. They offered me an interview to stay at the veterans domiciliary. I went there, was offered a bed. I went inside and talked with some vets. They were all chain smoking cigarettes. I asked them about the "butterfly notes" I was to get left on my bed at various daily intervals. They were for appointments. It felt too confining.
I left the V.A. drove back into town and bought a paper, looked for rooms to rent. I went to this one house on the corner of 8th St North and Burlington near downtown, 1/2 block from my first apt. It was a nice rooming house with an old lady who lived downstairs, Gladie. she said, In a deep southern genteel drawl, "Why we'd just love to have you come stay with us!" all for $45/per week, a real haven. I met a fellow vet, Nam Vet, who was also a temp laborer. It was a wholesome safe haven for me. I stayed there a year.
By then I was 42. I got a regular gig evenings with Manpower at a flashlight factory and did the CNA program at PTEC. Summer of '89. Gladie was 89 and was leaving to stay with her kids. The house was closing down. I noticed that the guy who I was working with at the flashlight factory up on Bryan Dairy Road in Largo lived right across the street on the northeast corner of 8th st N. and Burlington. I moved over there, another old rooming house, with a small NON AIRCONDITIONED room at $140/month....It was peaceful and friendly.
I stayed there, got a job at a nursing home as a CNA making g an incredible wage of $6.25/hour and felt important. I also got back with the Vet Center, with a new director.
Not bad for a former air Farce cargo pilot, street veteran war protester. conscientious objector to American imperialism.
I stayed there at the Simkins place off and on for the next several years while earning my LPN and RN and working later at Bayfront. It unfolded; I was blessed.
Now at 57, I feel tired a lot. My future options are less geared towards achievement and more towards a "chop wood carry water" sentiment.
I still have bad days, but the frequency is much less.
I have never ridden in a limo but I live in a house with a wife and a life.
My religion is "chop wood carry water" but like to diddle with my chakras.
Eienstein had an eye for the bewildering.
Last edited by jimboloco on December 4th, 2004, 8:59 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Doreen Peri
- Site Admin
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- Joined: July 10th, 2004, 3:30 pm
- Location: Virginia
- Contact:
jimbo -
I loved reading your story.... Could you repost this in the "snippets" forum, please?
This is exactly the type of story I imagined when I created that forum.
I'd love to read more life stories like this.
Thank you for sharing this slice of your life with us!
I enjoyed reading your adventures .... you took me right along with you.
-d
I loved reading your story.... Could you repost this in the "snippets" forum, please?
This is exactly the type of story I imagined when I created that forum.
I'd love to read more life stories like this.
Thank you for sharing this slice of your life with us!
I enjoyed reading your adventures .... you took me right along with you.
-d
Oh I need to check it out thanks. Perezozo by the way, you have the sweet knife it is like the demon gods of the old Bon religion, from whence you are reincarnated. Libetaring, man.
But I wonder, I think Bush, Rummy and Rice have the corner on the Stooges.
going on and on about rationality and religion , man talking about beating a dead camel, man. How about three of them?
But I wonder, I think Bush, Rummy and Rice have the corner on the Stooges.
going on and on about rationality and religion , man talking about beating a dead camel, man. How about three of them?
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stilltrucking
- Posts: 20607
- Joined: October 24th, 2004, 12:29 pm
- Location: Oz or somepLace like Kansas
Pilgrim on road
Fourth Versionthe sweet knife it is like the demon gods of the old Bon religion
for some reason when some one says to me I got your back, I think of crazy mike and me stabbing him in the back.
I would have to say that semicolons are my biggest demons in my life. All these words like Charkas, Tantrum, and Kundalinguini: I hope that I don't need to learn a whole new vocabulary to get enlightened. I think that is what I liked about the Quakers, oh they had there jargon, words like concern, the light within, but it was mostly English. I don't know if I have the study habits to learn a new language, I just want to live and I got no discipline, old age ain't for sissies or people that can't take care of themselves. it seems like Zen is a way to gain that, Jesus is so easy, don't need much much there, I thought Zen would be useful and it has made a huge difference in my life. Especially since I started hanging with you. ZW has it too, seems like a kinder gentler Zen then those old dudes that were always cutting peoples thumbs off.
Perezoso has been very helpful. So rational that dude,
I just don't want to provoke him, but who knows what will set him off, it is probably my envy. Sometimes I approach his posts after he has written or posted something nasty and I have a chip on my shoulder still disgusted from the previous one. Then I read the next one and it is interesting thought provoking, maybe that is the sweet knife, not sure what you mean?
I wrote a ku for him and his syllogisms once; I wonder if he ever saw it.
my syllykuism
Pilgrim on road
Serpent on rock
sunshine on my face
Monkey brain
encapsulates
phylogeny
http://tolweb.org/tree/phylogeny.html
not sure if that is really a ku but I like it.
Phylogeny, all that premed
comparative embryology
comparative anatomy
I wonder how much of what I know is still true
That book My First Two Thousand Years by The Wandering Jew
"every few thousand years a little genie comes along and pisses on the pillars of science"
************* Oh now I see, there is no rationality to religion. I feel like Steve Martin working in the "carney" in that movie "The Jerk". "Oh it is a money making proposition" down and out at man power too, living at the Union Gospel Mission, just said fuck it one day if I have say "Lord Jesus Christ have mercy on my soul" so be it. Just let me get to sleep tonight. Powerful post about working your way up from manpower. Jesus is for losers like me; I don't have the IQ to figure out that rationality is where it is at. We can not see 77 percent of the universe, or is it 97 percent yeah, 74 percent dark matter that nobody has a clue what it is, 23 percent dark energy which perexoso seems to know all about and the three percent that is atoms, or what we can know something about. My walk today trying to do my zendooey walking meditation, it struck me that I always thought that the dark matter was way out there in space somewhere but it has to be here too, we are walking through it every day, we can't see it, it could be full of boogey men waiting to gobble us up. sorry for the ramble I was going to try to sit on my hands for a couple weeks, but your post inspired me again.
I will spell check this and use some semicolons so help me Bob.
No I meant the sweet knife when Lazy jabs his skilled insults, what makes them both piteous and compelling.
The Quakers would ask you for a clearness committee and ask you if they are speaking to your concerns and ask, "What canst thou say?" They are some athiest Quakers, but tend more towards the mystical sect called the Hixites. I went to see the American Friends Service Committee whilst in Air Farce pilot training in 1969 and 70. Not to a meeting tho. I met with some C.O. draftees who were training as medics.
This one guy got to Vietnam as a medic. They all lined up and the man told them, "Look there are two piles of paper on this table :one yellow, one pink.. Choose a color."
"Most of the guys chose yellow. I chose pink. They guys who chose yellow went out in the field. The guys who chose pink stayed at the field hospitals." He said, "Thank goodness for pink.!!"
Another cuy was going out with his patrol. One of the guards at the gate said, as they were leaving, "Hey, where's your gun?" He said, "It's OK, I've got my bucknife." "All the guys thought that was hilarious."
The guy who was at the field hospital said that one time Pat Nixon came over and there was this wounded guy in an ambulance just off the chopper and they held up his transfer into the hospital cayuse Laydee Nixon was there. The guy cooked in the ambulance with heavy heat and dies so Pat won't have to be expozed to him.
I first went to the Quakers after a synchronicity experience in 1972 back from Vietnam a mystical synchronicity happening.
I could put into the snippets section.
My dad died 6 days short of his 23 birthday, 1948
After I became a CO in Jan 72 i got shipped out to my next base that I chose a year earlier.
I was with a Quaker lady counselor referred via the railroad and she was married to the guy who flew bombers with my dad in ww dos.
Robert Bly is a decent man as well as poet but he should take some reading lessons. His delivery leaves something to be desired, monotone and not phrased. I will look for his translation of "Las Agonias"
Pilgrim on road
Serpent on rock
sunshine on my face
Monkey brain
encapsulates
tree of life
Trip Master Monkey
Peacemaker community
ZEN AT WAR
The Quakers would ask you for a clearness committee and ask you if they are speaking to your concerns and ask, "What canst thou say?" They are some athiest Quakers, but tend more towards the mystical sect called the Hixites. I went to see the American Friends Service Committee whilst in Air Farce pilot training in 1969 and 70. Not to a meeting tho. I met with some C.O. draftees who were training as medics.
This one guy got to Vietnam as a medic. They all lined up and the man told them, "Look there are two piles of paper on this table :one yellow, one pink.. Choose a color."
"Most of the guys chose yellow. I chose pink. They guys who chose yellow went out in the field. The guys who chose pink stayed at the field hospitals." He said, "Thank goodness for pink.!!"
Another cuy was going out with his patrol. One of the guards at the gate said, as they were leaving, "Hey, where's your gun?" He said, "It's OK, I've got my bucknife." "All the guys thought that was hilarious."
The guy who was at the field hospital said that one time Pat Nixon came over and there was this wounded guy in an ambulance just off the chopper and they held up his transfer into the hospital cayuse Laydee Nixon was there. The guy cooked in the ambulance with heavy heat and dies so Pat won't have to be expozed to him.
I first went to the Quakers after a synchronicity experience in 1972 back from Vietnam a mystical synchronicity happening.
I could put into the snippets section.
My dad died 6 days short of his 23 birthday, 1948
After I became a CO in Jan 72 i got shipped out to my next base that I chose a year earlier.
I was with a Quaker lady counselor referred via the railroad and she was married to the guy who flew bombers with my dad in ww dos.
Robert Bly is a decent man as well as poet but he should take some reading lessons. His delivery leaves something to be desired, monotone and not phrased. I will look for his translation of "Las Agonias"
Pilgrim on road
Serpent on rock
sunshine on my face
Monkey brain
encapsulates
tree of life
Trip Master Monkey
Peacemaker community
ZEN AT WAR
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