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...