Yes October is passing as fast as the hurricane winds of summer. When one sits alone in an old quiet house at night, unusual noises would be a welcome change, but the element of lonliness, or as Simon & Garfunkle would call "the sounds of silence", has a more melancholy affect...

The fall season has been good so far--warm days and relatively mild nights. I have not needed heat, but the colder weather is on its way. I dread it for I like the mild days of spring with the promise of sweet summer on the way.

"Along time ago when the earth was free". Lyrics from the Irish Rovers a long time ago. I am a victim of melancholia. I weep quiet frequently for the past...I am a melancholic. It plagues me daily, slows me down and stops what little ambition I have cold.

My dear Mother Rebecca, in her later years, told me not to get upset over the things past and to move on and forget them. She often said "I was like that at one time but it does you no good."

I try to take that attitude but the melancholia keeps winning.

Partly into this blog adventure I want to let the reader know the entire endeavor is dedicated to and inspired by the genius of Hunter S. Thompson. No other writer has affected my long incubating writing career more. I love Hemingway (as he did), Hawthorne, Conrad, Yeats, Poe, Wordsworth to name just a few. But the good Doctor introduced the tabasco to the sauce and energized the written word forever.
It was a sad day February 20th 2005 when he chose to leave, but he didn't want to be greedy. And how could he be; he gave so much more than we could ever repay.
"He who cannot command himself should obey." Nietzsche wrote. "And many can command themselves, but much is still lacking before they also obey themselves."
Hunter Thompson, the warrior to the end, obeyed himself.

It is late and the autumn of 2005 is here, it began yesterday just after 6pm...I have to prepare the house for the upcoming cold. Hopefully the roof can be patched with a little silicone and sweat...Hadjii will figure that one out tomorrow.
Foxx and I talked on Google and played poker on the internet for hours tonight...It was much fun. I got myself a small fridge on 9/22. I really don't like the location--in the utility room on the little dresser where the toaster oven used to sit--but it was the most conveniant place with an outlet. It is nice having refrigeration again. I have cold water, milk and I can keep things preserved longer. I have to get on the road Monday and find a job and get cash flow...

It was earlier last night that the "coffee can man" tried to guilt trip me during a phone call which he said about the two days I did not go by; that his sister Edith came by and gave him some money, and he said "I know who my friends are." He knows who his friends are and he is not above taking advantage of them.

I am unemployed now and my account is surely scattering like ashes in wind. Christmas is about 3 months away and I want to have enough resources to have a good holiday season with my son Philip Michael..

Lonely, lonely, lonely. That is what it is later in life. I am sitting with a small nest egg and trying to save the bulk for xmas when PM comes home, and I have two trying to suck me dry.

One wants a loan up front to do work for the house. I am sure he is qualified, but do it and bill me...he accused me the other night of not trusting him because I wouldn't pay him up front...hey do the work you get the pay...the billing process, have you heard of it?
The other owes me over a hundred already and wants me to take him out each day as I pay for the gas, a 3 dollar pack of smokes and a 6 dollar bottle of whiskey...that ends as of today--I can't support him. I have enough problems supporting myself with the bills and daily expenses...
The reason I bring this to the blog is the fact that a good percentage of the human motive is the panhandler with the coffee can in front of Wal-mart. Of course, thats not allowed anymore, but the ethic seems to remain relatively visible.
Even in lean times I have never resorted to the "con-act" to get by. That poor in the wallet pitch with the promise to pay it back soon..."just as soon as I get it". Unfortunately, there is an alarmingly large percentage that swears by that philosophy.

I have no use for "arm chair critics". They have the most irrevelent opinions. They normally make comments when their mouths are running on a brain empty status. They should look at the idiot light on their cranium dashboard: "check gray matter". But they still exist and persist to give advice, normally negative, on how to live a life when they don't have a clue manual. Too many mouths and not enough brains.

I was sitting on my old couch this morning with my laptop. On the internet Hunter Thompson's suicide note was revealed. I read it several times with tears and felt the mortality he may have faced in his final days. It was a very lonely feeling.

"Mama, put my guns in the ground.
I can't shoot them anymore.
That long black cloud is comin' down.
I feel like I'm knockin' on heaven's door. "
-Bob Dylan

It has been 8 days since my last entry...nothing much new except for the hurricane that blasted the Gulf coast on the 29th...just got the dog hooked up a couple of hours ago...and the truck is screwing up again with smoking and the plug fouling...

It is late and well into the wee hours. I have the drip-dry brain resulting from living in "old weldon"where the locals can barely speak intelligent english...very hard to understand these fucks...I have to have patience...

I am trying to keep my head above water in this depressive area...but I guess things could be worse?

Almost the turn of the day and I think of Rebecca's Ashes in the back bedroom, speaking not and not spoken to. Death is such a finality. Hopefully after the big final one and the light at the the end of the tunnel there will be a reunion, some where some how. I believe this. I don't need to advocate the killing of a South American dictator to proclaim my faith in God.

I fail to understand how time goes so quickly. It has been almost two weeks since I left Floyd.

"Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain. You are young and life is long and there is time to kill today. And then one day you find ten years have got behind you. No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun."---Pink Floyd from the song "Time".

Way into the "wee hours" of this August 27...it is Friday and I can't type worth a damn at this time...too much stuff and not enough mind stuff but several minutes later I have come back and I am typing with my usual slowness...It is about 6:2oa, and it raining and Fox 41 is on the tv...the same bumper music and the same graphics drive me crazy...Barry B.... is back and he is good and funny, but what the hell does that matter...I am getting stiffed with this bullshit local television...If the pragmatic Foxx was here he would think of some orbital reason why do that, explaining in his Milwaukee's Best way why they do that, however, I never really connect with those explanations.

Rain! It is here for the first time this week. At almost 7a, light is coming gradually and there is a steady drizzle. It is kind of melacholy, but I am absorbing it well...I just talked to Philip Michael
and he is going to a home football game tonight. I hope he will be safe...

It is a visual sentence to be strapped, because of the lack of cable or sattlelite, to the local tv for eye entertainment--chick shows, soaps and a shit load of empty scripts on reality shows and a field full of nothing quasi-dramas that puts the hook into the double digit IQ crowd. It's the "when pigs fly" theory comes to it's extreme. "Can you believe it?"--"That kind of crap on network tv!" Believe me it is a torment that Alec Guinness' character, in "A Bridge on the River Kwai" would have drather stayed in that Philippine sweat box than watch it.

It is time I talked about the toilet experience of the last four years I endured. I was a day to day struggle that came around too soon in the afternoon and had a constipated ending with me rushing home to a nothing house or staying and sleeping for a few hours on a tacky blue stiff couch. I had not stayed at the shit hole overnight until April of 2004...And then it was a dismal overnight--not my idea of a honeymoon overnight. As I continued, I thought I maybe an advantage for the derelics that ran and owned the toilet. But the rotted teeth slime and the one armed bandit who called the shots sickly disagreed and I was dismissed. I have loved my life since. I do not have to report and flush everyday at the hated 4pm...

It has been three beautiful days--Mom Days--as I call the sunny, warm and beautiful summer days. Jim popped in about 12:30 and we got the mower going and mowed some grass. I looks somewhat better. There is quiet a bit to be done. I want to have the place cleaned before the first frost...

Cayce came by to do the brakes and he broke a wrench...He came by last night but it was too late after we went to wally world. I bought a brake roter and gave him twenty for the gas and some groceries. But the brakes are still down. Hopefully he will be back tomorrow.

I have been collared with the local channels on tv. That totally sucks as there is nothing but soap operas, putrid reality shows and boring talk shows that appeal only to the "henhouse crowd". I feel like Billy Bob Thornton 's "Carl" in "Slingblade", I would drather be staring out the window than watching the shit-loaded tv.

It is a late Monday night and as usual I am alone...I am watching "Dances with wolves" on dvd from the library. I feel as lonely as Costner's character on the far outpost of the great plains...The dog is secured for the next few days and everything is peaceful. I love this blog. I told Cayce about it earlier and It seemed to impress him...Maybe it will give him some sort of a goal to record a journal...I must find a job soon...The cash flow will have to start...I have to call Philip Michael, I will write later...

Another Monday, they come by so quickly, and there is the sound of mowers and the smell of grass that cuts through the front doors and seeps through the house. I have been sleeping all day. I am in an"up all night sleep all day" mode and it is difficult to adjust. Cayce just came by to fix my brakes but there was no tire tool...Cayce figured it was Lee who stole it from his truck...My brakes are still weary and grinding...and I still have to get new pads as the need arises...

About the horrible waking at 4a in the morning, trying to communicate to the worthless world with nothing to show but mis-typed words and far fetched ideas...I am still trying to get my stuff together before I go the route of some of the "mullet-haired" necks that have sniffed, sprayed their tonic, left their mark and shaded their glory with the color of urine and tobacco spit in a parking lot.

And it is over...THE GREAT CANNON SHOT...I hope it went without any hitch. That was a closure to this searing section of literary history. I hated the suicide of Hunter Thompson, but it was his life and his reasons, and his choice. What can one say to a person who is tired and weary and full of pain both physical and emotional. He had paid his dues, he had carved his legacy. I regret this immense loss and especially the fact I never got to talk to him in person. He was in Louisville about a year or so before and I missed the opportunity to see him in in person. There was no pre-publicity of the event at the Galt House in Louisville. I would have crawled there if I had known. It passed and I missed a great opportunity of my lifetime, and I will always remember it.

I guess it is over...THE GREAT CANNON SHOT...it must have been several hours ago mountain time when it blew out...the HST send away at Owl Farm...I wish I could have been there

All the people I talk to tell me I need to see a shrink to solve my para-logical experiences...but what do they know? They have the mentality to call a meade county football game...beyond that they are totally lost...'nuff said about their station in life...and I hate to bring up a toilet, but there is a smelly one on the bypass that has a disgusting, rotten teeth, smoking redneck asshole typing the daily radio logs...the FCC should, and will be notified about this atrocity..

Cayce came by with with his girlfriend to find an allen wrench...he is working on the tinker toy transmitter at that shit hole radio station...he couldn't find it...another lost cause...along with that state of the shit transmitter the local radio station uses to display the total mental minus points of the fabled staff...there are thousands of cockroaches running over the fcc sheets that take transmitter readings...they will find out about that--the fcc--just in time for Christmas...

"Master and Commander" is the dvd I am watching in this mid morning...and as I walked on the back porch later I found the dumb ass dog had shredded the garbage and the pillow in the back...what a mess...I wish I could get rid of that mutt...he needs to go.

"Been a long time, been a long time ...Been a lonely, lonely, lonely, lonely time...". --- LED ZEPPELIN

Getting away from Brandenburg Ky for a few days is like a cleansing...having a shower after spending years in a sewer--it is a relief if only for a few moments. I got back Monday afternoon and returned the rental car. There was a hundred deposit I left. The extra day was around thirty-six. The guy that checked me in was new in that area and he forgot to bill me the money. They hounded me all of the next day for the money. They would clamp for a dime if it was owed them.

The only thing that has saved me from the muck of this un-intellectual environment is my notebook baby with the broadband connection...I have been on my couch for the last four days, and have totally forgot about video games...this is so wonderful and simple...

There are several points to receive before understanding the points of the logic of the redneck mentality...Will I ever know...Maybe never but I will go on wondering until the dimly lit bulb comes in view of the radar...

In the middle of the wee hours and I am watching "A-Now"on dvd...gonna make some strategic moves for the trip on Wednesday...lot of prep to do...

It is hot and humid and uncomfortably sweaty today, but the air is brisk and there is no smell of decadence and decay like there would be if I was working at the rat hole I recently departed. Especially this week with the much overrated meade county fair in progress...A week at the roach hole filled with boring programs and events and a waste of an employee's life...Of course there are several, or to correct myself all of the goats that work under that roof that are so numb mentally the fair is a fascinating time, especially the rotted teeth general manager--the individual who embezzled 45 grand and got away with a hand slap of not receiving a Christmas bonus...Strange but true...

Difficult days in these tormenting times...So much to fix, so much to trim and there is no water. It is like a Mormon staring at the Utah desert with only hope, the words of the Reverend Young plus 25 wives included in the Pamida three day weekend sale. How does one survive these hours upon hours of coupon clippings. I am stuck in the loft of time and cracker vengeance--I knew they were after me, it was just a matter of time before they blind-sided me trying to win the quality points challenge in "NFL STREET". Damn them, they broke through the front door just when I got a "game breaker".