The Metafiscal Homelessness Blues~to be continued.

[gypsyjoker]

In 1980 I was hauling containers from the port of baltimore to the rail yards. I needed to get a cartman's license from the US Customs Service to get through the gate. I had to fill out an application, they asked for every place I had lived and every place I had worked. After about two hours and six additional sheets of paper they told not to be so specific, just give them the highlights.

I think it was 200 jobs and about seventy five homes back then. I have no idea how many since then. One year I had 17 W2's.


Nashville Tennessee, the Athens of the south

I lived in a basement apartment of a six story apartment house on 16th Avenue, aka Music Row because that is where all the music publishing houses were. I have never met so many paranoid musicians in my life. Everbody afraid of getting their songs ripped off before they got them copy righted.

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That song is so true

I was in the audience the night this guy sang this song for the first time at a place called The Exit Inn.

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[westcoast]

very cool!

[stilltrucking]

Satori in Texas and other poses
Eidetic images
been in and out of texas for exactly forty years now.

The first time coming in to the texas sky
that went on from one end of the galaxy to the other
never saw so much sky in my visual field
so many stars at once.

Dearly love texas, just them red necked texans who jack my jaws.

I am going to join emoticons annonymouse

I appreciate you.

for taking an interest.

sinecerly
jt
<center>
>spell check in progress<
</center>

[stilltrucking]

Chicago
Moro Bay California
Atascadero California
Devils Lake Michigan
Adrian Michigan
Lavernia Texas
New Berlin Texas
Bulverde Texas
San Antonio Texas
Castle Hills Texas
Revere Beach Massachusettes
Berry Hill Tennessee
Nashville Tennesse
Joelton Tennessee
Silver Springs Maryland
Bethesda Maryland
College Park Maryland
Baltimore
Washington DC
Astoria Oregon
Ilwaco Washington
Dallas Texas

I can't think no more tonight just a partial list.

Joelton Tennesse was grim, rudabagas and jimsonweed tea.

[stilltrucking]

People came to Nashville from all over the country to be a star, any place you go. there is live music, even hot dog stands.

There was a a place called Franks N Steins that had a woman's song writer night. A friend invited me to come along with her to hear her sing. The next morning my friend came by with another woman who had sung that night too. After the show she had been raped and they wanted me to go with them to the field where it had happened to look for clues to the identity of the rapist. I went with them and we found nothing.
I hoped my sorrow might have been some comfort for her. I thought maybe that is why they had come by, just to see the sadness in my face.

[stilltrucking]

Baltimore

Wharf Rat

Garcia's only known artwork titled after a Grateful Dead song lyric was "August West (Wharf Rat)" measuring 8.5 x 5.75", offered on eBay at $55,000 in November, 2001.

image credit

I played hooky a lot, for weeks sometimes
I wandered the waterfront from Fells Point to Locust Point

I always stayed to the back alleys to avoid the truant officers, wharf rats are huge I would see their corpses in the alleys, dead rats with maggots eidetic images from childhood.

We had them come into the kitchen when I lived at my grandmother’s house at Eastern and Caroline a couple of blocks from the water front in Baltimore. She loved cats my grandmother did, but cat’s never had a chance against a wharf rat. It takes a dog to kill them. Came down one morning to check the kittens that were living under her big kitchen stove. Found their bones, they told me that the rats ate them. She had mousetraps out the size of ping-pong tables.

Her kitchen was huge it had to huge cast iron cooking stoves the ones you see today for thousands of dollars. She had one huge cupboard that went from floor to ceiling (12 foot ceilings) that was full of her Passover dishes and pots and pans (she was kosher because there weren’t no other way to be back then). I loved that house; the happiest memories of my childhood go back to it. On foggy night we could hear the foghorns of the ships. It was old, still had gas pipes sticking out of the walls capped off from where the gas lighting used to be. Still had an outhouse in the backyard where my uncles kept heir comic books with a flashlight to read. When she finally got an indoor toilet she planted a fig tree where it used to be. That tree shot up like Jack’s beanstalk, gave such luscious figs. I don’t care what Jesus said; I never met a fig tree I did not love.




In the picture I am sitting outside the house at Eastern and Caroline circa 1945 with my grandmother and aunt who I thought was the most beautiful woman in the world. Who loved me madly more than I deserve because she could not have children herself. She bought me the most fantastic toys.

My grandmother's greatest joy in life was to see me eat, I don't have one picture of her where she is not holding a spoon or wearing an apron and stirring a pot. She was always on guard that noone should put the evil eye on me.



Have I bored you enough for one day yet?
Oh well
Plenty more of me where that came from
sorry.

[mtmynd]

that was then, this is now.

funny how now is while then was
and we're here no matter what
brought by then that brings us to where
when used to be before we go now.

all because of our sun's revolution
the most revolutionary thing we know
that is always fired up and burning

((go ahead. delete this. it's not anything))

[stilltrucking]

I got deal with rupert murdoch I get five bucks for every hit I get on this thread. Thanks Cecil.

The Burden of Freedom Kris Krisstofferson

I stand on the stairway, my back to the dungeon
The doorway to freedom so close to my hand
Voices behind me still bitterly damn me
For seeking salvation they don’t understand

Chorus:
Lord, help me to shoulder the burden of freedom
And give me the courage to be what I can
And when I am wounded by those who condemn me
Lord, help me forgive them, they don’t understand

Their lonely frustration, descending to laughter
Erases the footprints I leave in the sand
And I’m free to travel where no one can follow
In search of the kingdom they don’t understand

Chorus:

Lord, help me to shoulder the burden of freedom
And give me the courage to be what I can
And when I have wounded the last one who loved me
God, help her forgive me, I don’t understand

[tarbaby]

Revere Beach Massachussettes

Pickles
Preacher Jack

The Ship Wreck Saloon

I am sure it is just my vanity that makes me think no man has ever been a bigger ass hole about women than me.

Mellow morning to empty night in twelve hours.

I can not count this one, I only thought it was going to be my home, in truth I was just passing through.

I need a shorter list to work with.

Instead of homes I should just try and remember every woman I have ever loved. All six of them.

[silent woman]

Others recall a complex, completely self-absorbed stubbornly ambitious American whose outer shell of bright capability contained a seething core of inexplicable fury."Bitter Fame Anne Stevenson

When that fury turns
and becomes self murder

Nashville
I got saved
no big deal
everybody and their brother seemed like they were being saved back then.

Those Baptists in Nashville made me feel so special to be a Jew
If not for Nietzsche
I would have tried to save the world
been a Jew for Jesus

Jitterbug got water baptised
I went for the the Holy Spirit Baptism

I don't if it is just old age that has mellowed me
or if I have found a center.

I have not raised my hand in anger against another human being in over thirty years. Some comfort I guess.

I see where I am not. I see where I am. But no idea who is doing the seeing. No language to describe it. I am still an ignorant child. So many websites devoted to Nietzsche and Buddhism. He is like an old testament prophet to me. I stayed semi-sane for years with Christ in one ear and Nietzsche in the other. NOthing to attain, but I feel more like a Buddha these days.

The Improvers of Mankind

What it is
like burning off karma
by writting it off

[Terri]

I'd never been on this thread. Just got lonely enough tonight to go looking around, and saw what was here.

No man can ever be a bigger ass about women than any other one; all men are asses about women, in their own way; all women are asses about men, too. Abuse may be just a side issue.

Families are lovely, even when they're not; I wish I'd been closer to mine.

[stilltrucking]

I pour my life into these text boxes like they are magic eight balls.
I learn things about myself
and my sister my self
like a Ouija board kind of
automatic writing
trance writing
Or maybe it is just a jam with myself


Yes I suppose you are right,
we are all asses about each other we men and women
Men and women can be so two faced about each other.
Jitterbug is so straight with his mate. In thiry two years of marriage I have never heard an unkind word cross between them.
True love is perfect kindness or so Joseph Campbell said in Love and the Goddess. Quotng a 12 century French Ballad.



I think so much of it is about power, supposed flow between a man and a woman like water being poured from one vessell to another.





Families are beautiful
mine is very strange
I don't know what made us so close

Maybe it was the war, maybe it was my father's insanity

******************************************************

this is some stuff I wrote here and decided to delete now I have decided to put it back

I can't find anything I am looking for terri. I was looking for a post by Anne Bingham. Or maybe it was Lily White.

I deleted this whole board a couple of months ago, I thought I was saving the deleted posts. but now I can't find them. One of those it seemed like a good idea when I was doing it. I lost so many beautiful replies from

Anne Bingham
Cynthia Plum (abstroint)
mousey1
doreen peri
westie

mnaz
mtmynd
constantine
mingo
wireman

to name a few

so many beautiful posts
gone with the wind

so I start over.

I am happy you checked me out here.

I suppose I am lonely too
why else would I spend so much time here.

I have two computers here-- side by side---
one is for my work at home job where I answer calls for those infomercials you see on TV

And one I sit and scribble these text boxes on studio eight.

So many people in the lonely amercian night
calling in for an exercise machine, or a weight loss miracle, a hair growth miracle, cosmetics.

They just need something to make them happy, beautiful,
And old folks calling in for adult diapers and final expense insurance policies I have talked to thousands of people

I am so got dam glib, I could sell ice cubes to eskimos, well actually that might not be much of a challenge now that they got no ice left.

I am suprised I have not been fired cause I just don't try to sell anything I think is really a rip off.

I am starting a new gig for a home shopping service.
I hope it will not be so ethicaly challenging.

If you have read through to this point your eye balls must be crossed. I will try to clean it up and fix it up later
too tired now.

[the mingo]

ST - had company the past few days, not much chance to read, much less reply, to things. Company just left, I see you have been busy. God bless, ST,... ya know there are writers & creators & reporters & revealers. The greatest of these are those who reveal, things about themselves, about the world around them, about the people in it. You are a revealer, ST, ...it's what makes your writings glow.

[the mingo]

ps - I forgot & meant to mention that you're right, your aunt was a beautiful woman.

[stilltrucking]

Have you killed anything today yet?

I will drop down on my knees and give thanks to any fucking god there is if please please please

let me make it through today without killing this cat.



My sister myself