Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Posted by bulletholes at 9:58 AM
Sunday, March 29, 2009
YEP! I DID SOME!
And I bought a bed and new sheets too! I got purple ones with pillowcases and everything.
And when I cleaned the kitchen Saturday there were only enough dishes to fill it up halfway!
I was confused by this so I called Kim and asked if I should run the dishwasher….she said yes.
I’ve never put dishes in the dishwasher and not had dishes left that still needed washing.
Stacy, one of the Sisters, came over last week and had me all fired up to clean.
She came over and supervised me.
She saw the pile of clean laundry piled up from the last 4 months in the corner over there.
She was surprised I actually had a vaccuum cleaner.
We went and bought a new broom and Mop.
When she saw my Dressing room sink, and all the whiskers, loogies, and empty toothpaste tubes, and all the old Razors and tissues ands Cologne and Deodorant leftovers and all the spray on the Mirror she started making all these “Horse”sounds and acting like a dog that just came out of the Shower, shaking his-self to get dry.
She sounded and acted just like me when I come out of that shower.
It was hilarious and it let me know what a sorry-ass animal I truly am.
'Ol Sasquatch probably keeps his Den better than I do mine.
That was 2 weeks ago, and while I tend to lose it on the daily stuff I'm still in pretty good shape.
Except for that Dressing room.
Posted by bulletholes at 12:29 PM
Friday, March 27, 2009
Standing by the water, staring at the stream,
Tell me, honey, are there any catfish in your dreams?
Catfish ain't expensive, and neither is it free,
Some folks crazy 'bout it. Others have to let it be.
You walk down to the bank and then you flash your bait.
You're looking for a catfish, child.
You ain't got long to wait.
No, you ain't got long to wait.
Catfish got whiskers and a sweet little grin,
But you can't never tell where a catfish has been.
Just call out my name and drop in your line.
I'll be your catfish, honey, any old time.
Cause I'm standin' by the water staring at the stream,
Tell me, honey, are there any catfish in your dreams?
Posted by bulletholes at 2:26 PM
I’ve been walking to work lately instead of riding the bike….this is how it goes:
As I lock my front door I think “its only two and a half miles, all it takes is about 45 minutes”
After I get about 100 feet away I think ‘There’s the crazy neighbor lady’s car…I wonder do she might like to take me in?”
Half a mile later I think ’Man, this is going to be good for you. I’ll bet I’ve already lost a pound!”
At the one mile mark I’m wondering who could I call to come get me.
At the one and a quarter mile I determine I am not as spry as I used to be and neither are my legs.
At the one and a half mile mark I’m thinking maybe the Ex Mrs. Bulletholes might come get me.
At the two mile mark I resist the urge to put out my thumb.
Which reminds me of the guy that used to hitch-hike all over this area between 1971 and 1989. Sometimes you’d see him in the morning one place and later that day he’d be all the way across town. He carried a briefcase. I’ll bet that over the period of 18 years this guy got rides from everybody in Fort Worth at some point. I picked him up once in 1975. Besides the longevity of this guys hitch-hiking run there was something else that made him stand out. As he walked along with his thumb out, he did not walk in the direction of the traffic….he walked into the traffic, confident that a ride would come.
He was famous.
So just past the two mile mark I can see my office, and I am glad that no one has run over me. Right now, with morning temps in the 60’s its really a pleasant walk.
In June, when the temps run 85-90 in the morning…well…lets just see how this goes.
Posted by bulletholes at 6:20 AM
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
OK...lets see....as part of my Step 4, I am writing what amounts to my life story and the following is a part of it from when I was very young. If you have been coming around here for long, some of it may seem familiar. There may be only one paragraph of much interest to anybody and I have highlighted it in bold italics because it jumped onto the page in front of me and was a revealing when I wrote it.
My Dad was a well liked Businessman. He worked as Director of Public Relations for a large company. He had many colleagues, but until I wrote this I never realized that as well liked as Dad was he really only had one friend....Bruce Myers.
And that may explain why I am the way I am sometimes...I describe Bruce as being "jolly and exuberant", almost a harlequin of my fairly stoic father, and maybe thats why I am so goofy sometimes...my Dad's only best friend could be just that way sometimes.
I never really knew that, and I cried when I looked at that paragraph.
The story I have in rusted italics is one of my first posts.
I was born on a street named Carma.
I had a brother named don 16 years older than me. My first memory of Don was the day I was taking a piss off the front porch and he snatched me up and spanked me and showed me where the bathroom was. I have no other memory of Don on Carma, because when I was two, he was off at college. my whole life, Don was always off somewhere.
So I went to Swim lessons, and to Tap Dance lessons and also to a Nursery School called the Little Hoss Ranch. I remember being dropped off there, and there were chickens and goats and sheep in a pen, but we couldn't play with them. There was a big farmhouse, and us kids stayed in a big room where the TV played the 3 Stooges and Superman and Tarzan. some times we got to fingerpaint, I liked that a lot.
We got Orange juice and crackers and then we were supposed to take a nap on the floor and the lady would walk around and make sure we were trying to take a nap. i always sensed you would be in trouble if you weren't trying to take a nap.
Maybe just being quiet was good enough to stay out of trouble.
The best part of the nursery school was when we got to go outside and they had swing sets and stuff . What I remember the most was a little baby train track that circled a tree that we would walk on in a row like we were train cars. There was a man that stayed outside almost all the time; he had a kindly weather beaten face, and a gentle smile and he would watch us walk that track as he wiped his brow from the seat of his tractor. I liked going there, but I never made a friend there that I can recall.
Back then Mom and Lisa (my sister) were the people I was closest to. Mom didn't work and stayed with me most of the time. We would play things like Tarzan and I would save her from giant snakes (the Vaccum cleaner hose) and I would watch her run in place while watching Jack La Lane on TV.
Dad was at work all the time, and when he got home he would kiss me and I would always wipe it off because it seemed like a wet kiss. Dad never said a lot. When we sat down to dinner, if it was something I didn't like to eat, Dad would explain that it was all good food, and I had to eat it. He would try to bribe me to eat squash by saying if I ate it we would go down to the Crawdad Hole after supper.
It didn't help and I would sit for an hour refusing to eat greens, squash or liver.
I knew it disappointed him that I wouldn't eat those things.
Dad took me fishing a lot and camping too. He smoked big cigars and he would give one to me, unlit, for me to roll around in my mouth the way he did. I remember him going hunting with his best friend Bruce, and when they came home they had a bunch of dead birds and a case of Carte Blanca Beer. They showed me how to clean the birds and laughed with each other the whole time they were together. Always they had fun and laughing. I don't remember Dad having a friend other than Bruce, ever, but Bruce was such a good friend for many years that I dont know Dad needed another friend. There seemed to be no friend like Bruce for my dad.
I always knew that Dad loved me, but Dad never said much. He would dispense advice in a slow precise way. I would be riding in the car talking to him and he would say "Umm-Hmm" as being a yes, but in a distracted way and even at a young age I knew that he was only partly listening. Then finally I would say something that he could actually comment on.
One of the things he liked to say was to remind me I had come "From good stock". Even though I wasn't sure what that meant, I knew that if dad said it it must be so.
Dad never said anything that he could not prove or demonstrate, or back up with pretty solid facts.
Not that he didn't have a sense of humor, but you would never catch him just being goofy or silly.
I did not get that gene, I don't guess.
I wrote an email to Bruce a couple years ago to try to verify the validity of the following story.
Bruce Myers was my fathers very best friend while I was growing up which was just fine with me because I liked Bruce maybe as much as my father did. Where my father was dry and always under control, Bruce was effusive and jolly. They never spoke curtly to each other and always had a good time together. Their relationship was centered around fishing and Highballs……..and according to them this is how it all got started.
Bruce and Jack (my Dad) worked together for Hobbs Trailers. It was 1958, life was good and they were in their prime. Jack was a big time fisherman while Bruce was, well, I have no idea what Bruce was before fishing, except a really nice guy. Since they were going to be best friends for a long time it was important that Jack get Bruce onto the water in search of the big Bass or anything that would bite.
So Jack takes Bruce fishing, using all the popular lures of the day. Before too long, Jack catches a fish which excites the very excitable Bruce.
“What did you catch him on? “ Bruce wants to know.
“A Jiitterbug” replies Jack.
“Nah, now Jack, don’t go puttin’ me on” Bruce says, thinking no way could a Fishing lure be named after a 20's dance.
“Not a bit”says Jack and shows Bruce the lure with “Jitterbug” printed plainly on the lure.
“Well I’ll be”says Bruce”I want one of those”
Jack ties the Jitterbug on for Bruce to use. Before too long Jack catches another fish. Bruce is curious. “Whatcha catch ‘im on?”
“A Devils Horse.”
“Nah, now Jack, don’t put me on”
“Here it is written right on the lure, "Devils Horse!"” So Jack has Bruce tie on a Devils Horse.
Now Bruce is very intrigued about the names of these lures and wants to know more names so Jack begins to recite some Lure names to Bruce including the Classic ‘Hellbender’ and “Water Dog” and "Boy Howdy" which Bruce sees in the tackle box as being for real.
Jack sees an opportunity. He was very well known in Sporting Goods Departments as having names for Lures that did not exist. Names like “The Bottom Scratcher” “Doodlesocker” and “Gullywampus”. There was the "Rebel Yell" "Do-Diddler" and 'Who hit John" none of which were actual lures, just names Dad dreamt up.
Dad had a million or so screwball names for lures and Bruce is now a true believer and I’m sure he laid it on pretty thick. Dad used to call one ' Swivelhip Susie", probably the most risque' thing I ever heard him say.
The next day at work Bruce comes in, high on Fishing, and tells Jack that at lunch he wants to go down to Leonards Department store and buy a Rod and Reel, a tackle box and all those lures they had talked about the day before.
“Can you make me a list of those lures, Jack?”
“Glad to, Bruce”
Enter Bruce into the Sporting Goods Department. Friendly salesperson helps him find a Rod, reel and Tackle box. Now Bruce says “I’ve got a list of lures here” and hands it to the salesperson who studies the list for a moment then looks up to Bruce with a funny grin.
Like I said, Dad was famous for these lures.
"Is there something wrong?" Asks Bruce.
“No,no”, says the salesman, and with a chuckle hands the list back to Bruce
“But you must have been talking to Jack Renfro!”
Bruce wrote back to me thanking me for reminding me of his old friend Jack, and assured me that every word was true.
When I was growing up I must have heard this story a thousand times and never grew tired of hearing it. I'd give anything to be sittin' on a camp stool by a fire, listening to the two of them go on into the night with their friendly banter.
Dad used to ask me a question when we would be driving to a fishing trip, or when we might be discussing my future. He would ask
"Would you rather be a big fish in a little pond, or a little fish in a big pond?" and we would discuss the pros and cons of each.
As time went on my answer evolved into "I'd like to be just a medium fish in a medium pond" but I don't think I ever quite told him so.
Posted by bulletholes at 1:01 PM
From Bulletholes Twitter, 1987:
7:15 AM-Man next door wants to put a couple calves in my backyard….his kids are in 4-H
7:35 AM- Closed gate at driveway. Good looking calves alright.
7:36 AM- Turned down beer offered by man next door. Going to work.
8:00AM- Arrived at work, Chef no where to be found.
8:15AM- Chef calls and says he is at the Waffle House for breakfast. Informed Chef we have Waffles here and also a party for 500 at noon.
8:30AM- Chef calls, motorcycle has flat tire…will be in as soon as possible.
9:30AM- General Manager wants to know where Chef is.
11:30 AM- I can’t believe everything I did the last 3 hours.
11:45AM- Chef arrives. Good that he could make it.
12:30PM- Party of 500 done. Looking for Chef.
1:45PM- Front Desk calls looking for Chef.
2:30PM General Manager calls looking for Chef.
3:30 PM-Audio Video World calls concerning Movie Camera for Chef.
4:00 PM- Chef and Audio Video World arrive at Chefs Office at the same time.
4:15PM- Assist Chef with taking Camera and lights up to the suite on the 12th Floor.
4:30 PM- Catering Director appears in the suite wrapped only in a towel. There is Cocaine on the table and I assist the Chef in setting up Cameras in Bedroom. Chef tips me $50 for my help and asks if all is well in the Kitchen…‘Yes, Chef, its all good”
4:45PM- Pass two girls on the elevator wearing too much make-up and the shortest tightest skirts I’ve ever seen. Their hair is not big…its huge. They ask where Suite 1204 is, and I point them towards the Chefs Suite.
That darn Chef!
6:15PM- General Manager wants to know what Suite Chef is in.
6:30- Huge order for Room Service Suite 1204
10:00PM- Cart with 400 Chicken Cordon Bleu that we have been filling and breading all afternoon tips over on its way into cooler. Shit!!!
10:01PM – I’M TWEAKIN’ BIG TIME! DAMN CHICKEN!
Midnite- Repairs are done for the Chicken. Leave a note for the Chef.
12:15AM- Don “the Animal” Paschal and I step into Skippys Mistake for a few Beers.
1:00 AM- Don ‘The Animal” Paschal demonstrates his famous two shots of Tequila chased by a grapefruit and an orange both swallowed whole.
1:01AM- Yes, it can be done. The crowd goes wild!
1:02AM- Don and I collect $28 in winnings for our bets that he could swallow a grapefruit whole.
2:00AM- Don and I leave Skippys and stagger to my house. Don has never seen a Cow.
2:10AM- Keys lost-crawl into window to unhlock door, realize we are kinda drunk.
2:15AM- Don and I chase calves in hopes of being able to ride one. Fortunately, we fail.
2:31AM- Nothing to eat inside but Dog biscuits and Fake rubber dogshit.
2:32AM –My wife arrives home from her bartending job to find Don and I eating Dog Biscuits and fake rubber dogshit.
2:33AM – My wife wants to know what we are doing with cows in the backyard.
2:33AM-‘What Cows?” I ask.
2:34AM- Wife takes Don and I out to back yard to show us the cows. First we pretend not to see them. Then we pretend we don’t know where they came from.
2:36AM- Don and I ROTFLOAO
2:37AM-Clobbered by Future Ex-Wife
2:45AM We all decide to go to the Waffle House.
2:52AM-Don “The Animal” Paschal has Pancakes, Sausage, 2 poached eggs, 4 pieces of toast, a glass of Tomato juice and a slice of Lemon Meringue Pie all put into the blender so he can drink it.
2:57AM Food arrives.
2:58AM- Don wipes his mouth. Breakfast is over for him.
3:30- Home and to bed. Goodnight, and good luck.
Posted by bulletholes at 7:20 AM
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
That no good man/boy of hers, John Mayer, spent all his energy on this Twitter thing thats going around!
It amounts to trading sex with a beautiful Movie star for Texting to no-one in particular and everyone in general.
Of course, I've never had to go shopping with her and I have no idea what she likes for breakfast.
From the article:
"It has also been claimed musician John made no attempt to cover up his Twitters.
The source said: "He didn't even deny it. He knew he was avoiding her. So when she called him on it and ended things, he just said OK, and that he was sorry it didn't work out.
"He took the break-up like a man."
Even so, shortly after Aniston's call, Mayer's Twitter update read: 'This heart didn't come with instructions.'"
Geez, John, its not a Wah-Wah Pedal, its a woman!
Posted by bulletholes at 6:54 AM
Monday, March 23, 2009
Yeah, they could only be Tow-Truck Drivers that thwarted an Armed Robbery of their family business last night. It all happened around the corner from me.
It seems they chased the suspects who were on foot, through a field with one of their Tow-trucks. They dodged gunshots that were fired at their truck and finally coralled one by racing circles around him. Then Ollie Jr. Jumped out of the truck and wrastled the suspect to the ground, pinning him there till the cops arrive.
All-in-All, the suspect was probably lucky the Cops got there....these Tow-Truck Drivers down here are like those dudes in "Pulp Fiction" that ran the pawn Shop.
They can be merciless.
Posted by bulletholes at 9:25 AM
Saturday, March 21, 2009
My friend Kim and I had a blast Saturday taking pictures for my Blog.
Posted by bulletholes at 1:02 PM
Thursday, March 19, 2009
My son informed me yesterday that the Pot they get nowadays produces a more Intelligent and Spiritual high.
"It has way cool names too, Dad...like "Taliban Train Wreck" from Afghanistan."
I was kind of dumbfounded till I glanced over at his buddy, who was looking through a straw at an antbed with his mouth hanging wide open.
"Yes I can see that" was all I knew to say.
When I stay at the Sisters of Mercy house, usually on Saturday nights, I am awakened in the morning by a cardinal.
Not like the priest, but the bird.
This cardinal slams himself into the window at the back porch from a perch a few feet away. if you run him off, he will come back a few minutes later. He does this between the hours of 8 AM and 9 AM while I am asleep in the couch in the Living Room. He is a good and reliable alarm clock for me to get up and go to my 10AM NA Meeting.
I have started to be the Chairperson for the Sunday morning Meetings, both the 10AM and 12AM Meetings. Last night I chaired a Meeting because...well...no one else would. It was the first meeting I've chaired extemporaneously. On Sundays there are usually about 15 people...last night there were about 40!
Chairing a meeting is really not a big deal. We have a book I read out of to open and close the meeting, and there are 7 Cards that are passed out at every meeting for people to read, called Preambles. Then there is a reading from a daily Meditation book called "Just For Today" and all the readings take about 15 minutes. They act as a way to set the tone, define a topic, and get us started for what the meeting is really all about....
The meetings are really all about us addicts sharing what we think about the topic of the day and how it relates to our recovery, or sometimes people talk about what they are going through this week. For the next 45 minutes folks take turns speaking openly for 3-5 minutes.
Yes, sometimes it can turn into a dump session, but its good to know that if you are ever in need of a sounding board that one is there, and actually quite seldom does it get that way.
We do everything we can to make the newcomer to feel welcome.
There might be a big ol tough lookin' biker dude, with Tattoos all over his arms, lookin' rough as he can be, but when he starts to talk, you find a soft wisdom in his words, and a truly caring soul that his outward appearance belies. You find that he attends meetings almost everyday, and has been clean and sober for many many years. He may have been on Heroin for most of his life, but today he talks to you about Hope,Prayer, and Love. He may have sponsored many a young man, and feels a deep empathy for any addict who still suffers.
There may be a soft looking little woman, gentle, comely and conservative looking and when she starts to speak you find that she has led a rough outlaw life, and committed all manner of immoral acts, even maybe a few years in jail. She may tell you her insanity led her to be unkind to herself and wrecked her self-esteem. She credits the program with having made her a productive responsible member of society and a lady too. You can see the proud unflinching confidence that has been restored to her.
My legal program demands that i attend at least two meetings a week, but I find myself going to 5 or 6 a week. You might be thinking that it is because I get so much out of them, but sometimes the opposite is true.
Some times I have to go to several meetings before something really cool is revealed to me.
Its kind of like fishing I guess, and sometimes you just don't even get a bite, but you keep going because one day you will catch a whole mess o' fish.
So back to that cardinal. The Sisters tell me that that cardinal doesn't just fly into the window on Sunday....he does it every day of the week. I'm starting to think that Cardinal may be an addict.
I hope that cardinal finds what he is looking for.
This is one of our Preambles we read at the meeting; its the first one to be read:
WHO IS AN ADDICT?
Most of us do not have to think twice about this question.
Our whole life and thinking was centered in drugs in one form or another - the getting and using and finding ways and means to get more. We lived to use and used to live. Very simply, an addict is a man or woman whose life is controlled by drugs. We are people in the grip of a continuing and progressive illness whose ends are always the same: jails, institutions and death.
See, for that cardinal you could substitute the word Drug with Window....or with some folks you could substitute Food, or Debt, or Anger, or Blogs. (thats the best one)
What would you substitute it with?
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
She's been on her feet nearly half the damn night
Bringing you beverage and your late night bite
She remains cheerful when you're nasty and tight
Makes change for a fifty in dim candlelight.
Ignoring your groping hoping you might
Come across with a tip and sympathize with her plight.
Tip that waitress.
Shes getting her masters supporting her mom
Amidst the confusion she remains cool and calm
She knows exits in case of a fire or bomb
She knows all the words to the 23rd psalm
She handles her tray with panache and aplomb
Her brothers a Quaker, her dad was in
Tip that waitress.
Tip that waitress,
She’s been waiting on you
Skip the small change,
Slap down a dollar or two.
Her arches are aching, her lower backs shot
Her varicose vein hurts like hell when its hot
Her uniform's too tight, tasteful its not
She knows the specials and they are not a lot.
The cook is on Qualudes the bus boy deals pot
If she had a real job she'd quit on the spot
So tip that waitress.
This plea for gratuity's gone on way too long,
Theres a time and a place where them things belong
The stage ain't a soap box, this is only a song,
To dwell on the matter much more would be wrong.
And people get by, she'll get along
But I think she gets off when I come on
So tip that waitress.
Tip that waitress,
She's been waiting on you.
Skip the small change,
Slap down a fiver or two.
Tip that waitress.
loudon wainwright III
For my Foodservice friends
Posted by bulletholes at 10:49 AM
Haley was a Chemist
Haley is no more
What he thought was H2O
dad taught me this poem when i was just a boy
My friend Angela@Usedom is having fun and teaching us all German! It was so much fun yesterday that when I went to sleep last night I had a dream about going to School.
If you have been coming by here for very long at all then you know that I have some crazy dreams. I did three posts just last week about my dreams because I seem to be dreaming a lot lately.
I am one of those lucky people that is able to remember well my dreams.
What you don't know is that a good few of you appear in my dreams from time to time.
So in my dream last night I was going to college and taking two classes.
One was a Speech class, and Angela was the teacher. It was my favorite class, and I went every day, even though Angela had said I could not sit next to Lori and Karen anymore.
The other class was a Chemistry class, and I do not know who the teacher was because I never went to that class.
As things can go in dreams, the Semester started and it was nearly time for finals and grades to come out.
I had a good grade in Speech Class, which was held entirely in German, which I do not Sprechen at all, but this is the way of dreams.
And Angela, my Speech Teacher asked me "Wie ist Ihr Rang in der Chemie?" which means "What is your grade in Chemistry?".
I had to admit to her that I had not been going to classes and that I did not look in my book, and had done no "Hausaufgaben und Test" (Homework and Tests). Of course she admonished me for this, but I assured her that I could get it all done tonight.
So in my dream I cracked open my book, and studied the chemical equations, and learned about the Ions, and Covaent bonds, and figured out how to draw a Molecule, wrote a paper on Quarks and Alchemy, and did make up work for all the stuff I had missed.
For my Final paper I discussed the differences between Water (H2O) and Sulphiric Acid (H2SO4) .
While doing this I discovered two new elements which changed the Periodic Chart of the Elements forever, and also would win me the Nobel Prize for Chemistry ten years later. In my dreams I can see into the future.
Really, it was all kind of easy in my dream...
And the next day I turned it in and you know what?
I got an "A" in both classes!
The way I see it, if I can get an "A" in Chemistry after one days work, I could have my Masters in about a week and a half... in my dream!
But when I showed it to Angela she clobbered me on the side of the head saying
"Sie versuchen, zu kluger Herr Bulletholes zu sein, und eines Tages wird das Sie alles einholen!"
Which means "Try to be too clever Mr. Bulletholes, and one day everything will catch up to you!"
I know thats right, Angela!
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
That's all it took...
I named him TopCat after the cartoon character from when I was a kid, and that cat just loved me.
I ended up buying a Litter box and a food bowl and Tender vittles and what my friend Lily called "Cat toys".
Lily was part of the reason I took in the cat, because I thought if I could show a little love for TopCat, Lily might show a little love for me.
Also, Topcat showed his affection by digging his nails into my inner thighs in an attempt to make some kind of Cat love to me.
Then one day Lily informed me that Top Cat was not a boy, but a girl. We changed his name (her name ) to Blondie.
But Dana, a neighbor who worked at Pet Smart, said it was not a girl cat but a neutered boy. I don't know who was more confused, me or the cat, but what really finally put me over was the litter box, because when she, him, it went to take a dump, lord-a-mercy you'd a thought a 200 pound goat was in there.
I ran him out with a broom one day. Cat had to go, and I'll never forget the surprised hurt look on its face.
But the story has a happy ending because Dana had seen what a great at TopCat could be, and while she didn't want him, she had a boyfriend that did and last I heard they were a real happy couple, him and that cat.
I'd never loved a cat before, but I did love TopCat.
That's my cat story!
Posted by bulletholes at 6:39 AM
Monday, March 16, 2009
I wrote a post about my pal Buddy Whittington a while back. he s an outstanding guitar player, been around the world, up on stage with the ZZ Top, BB King, Eric Clapton, spent 14 years as John Mayalls lead guitarist et al. and I always talk abbout what a great guy he is.
The Sisters of Mercy and I go see him every chance we get, and we have seen him locally quite a number of times the last two months.
He's a Bluesman and plays that good Rock and Roll.
Now last Friday night he had a gig down at the First United Methodist Church. They have a "Coffee House" Fundraiser going there. Admission is $10 at the door and you get all the coffee you can drink, and the church people bring plates of that Coffee-cake that the Methodists are famous for, and there were even a few Southern Baptist brownies thrown in.
Buddy plays and that's his donation....he does this gig for free! Thats part of what I mean when I say Buddy is a great guy!
Anyway, after the first set, when I was headed for the buffet for some of that excellent Pentecostal Apple Strudel, a lady stopped me on the way there.
"Are you going to dance tonight?" she asks.
"Excuse me?" I say.
"Are you going to dance tonight?" she repeats "Everytime we go see Buddy somewhere, you are there and we always get a kick out of watching you dance"
She means it as a compliment I think, but there is hope that maybe she is getting "a kick" out of watching some other knee jerk dude dance, and I don't recognize her at all, so I ask her:
"Where have you seen me dance?"
She says "Oh, at Resposados a few weeks ago, and at Lonnegans last month, then I think at Papa G's two weeks ago....and Oh! you and that girl were up on the Bar at Papadeux for Mardi Gras"
All I can do is nod...yep, that just might be me...
Too bad I didn't dance at the Church that night...they say it was being streamed live to 7 states!
Posted by bulletholes at 7:22 AM
Friday, March 13, 2009
"e" at 'Life in Progress" says that since today is Friday the 13th, and the second inside of 4 weeks, that we are to tell a Ghost Story. I have no talent for fiction, so I am hard pressed to do aything but re-publish the only true Ghost Story I know.
It all happened just like I say... I was there!
Down here we had the Womacks, all big trouble and notoriously violent, with the eldest of the three brothers, Joe, being the most badass'd.
One Friday night Little Panama comes running into the local Foosers Hut and hollers that Fightin' Joe Womack has barricaded himself in the old abandoned Boys Ranch House for Orphans and that anyone going in there gets thrown out the second floor window.
Of Course the place empties out, and a caravan forms up to journey down Devils Backbone, a twisting turning roller coaster road that dead ends into the Boys Ranch where a crowd has gathered in the dark outside of the dilapidated two story wood structure.
Its pure Hugo without the Hunchback, unless you want to count Mona, who seemed to be everywhere all the time, just lookin' for a little lovin'.
Big Panama goes running into the darkness of the ranchhouse and in like 20 seconds you hear a scream and *WHOOSH* here he comes flying out the second story window.
Same thing happens to Zigger-zoo, Cherokee, Tubby and the Strackman.
Then Truck-Bob hollers "torch the place" and someone comes up with a gallon of gas, its once for the Devil and once for the Christ, and the next thing you know this weatherbeaten old Ranchhouse is in flames, lighting up the hot August night.
The crowd went wild!
No one ever saw Fighting Joe again, but the next morning his Saint Christopher medal was sifted from the ashes, still glowing red hot like Shelley's Heart and did not cool until it were dunked, hissing and steaming into the Boys Ranch Pond.
Today it is the site of the nicest little park and community center you would ever want to see. Its been deemed a State Historical Site because of the Old Boys Ranch for Orphans.
But there is not one whit in tribute to the night that Fightin' Joe went down in a blaze of glory.
The legend is that he still wanders the Park and surrounding neighborhoods, looking for his old girlfriend Mi-Mi.
When the wind is out of the southwest,
breathing its way down Devils Backbone and
blowing through the willows by the waters edge,
you can hear ol' Fightin Joe howling for his lost love.
See also The Scariest House, The Continuing Chronicles of Fighting Joe, and Purcell's Treehouse, for more of this story.
It remains largely unfinished, I guess.
Posted by bulletholes at 6:07 AM
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Attended an AIDS Awareness Class this weekend.
It was a real eye-opener.
The gal that ran it pulled two giant dicks out of her bag with suction cups on them and stuck them to the wall.
One was about 10 inches long and blue and the other was at least 12 inches and purple.
She apologized for having left the big pink one at home.
She wasn't shy about it at all and proceeded to demonstrate how to install a condom on these monsters in order to have safe sex.
She is really good at it and had them both bagged "lickity-split".
All I could think was these bad boys were anything but safe, with or without a condom.
I also couldn't help but think about the old Junior High Health classes that were invariably run by Coaches, who were most embarrassed to get up in front of these classes and have to discuss Venerial Diseases, Personal Hygiene, body parts and stuff.
Big, strong men they were, but you could see them almost faint when they said the words 'Sexual Intercourse","Masturbate" or "Sperm".
Anyway, this lady at the AIDS class said that when she goes to certain areas to educate prostitutes on the proper use of condoms, she shows them how to put one on a customer using their mouth.
The class was silent for a long moment, but finally I had to say it...
"I'd kinda like to see that"
Somebody had to say it, right?
Posted by bulletholes at 8:10 AM
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
It was a very pretty post, and while it seemed to be mostly about Donna, it was really inspired by my very active dream life.
I wonder sometimes after an unusually vivid dream what may have inspired such a feeling of poignancy and reality.
I don't know if its a theory or just a musing, but what do you suppose happens if two people are dreaming the same dream at once?
What would happen if Donna were to dream the same scene at the same time I was dreaming it?
Or even if it were not at the same time...but te dream gets built by the two of us over a period of time?
An increase in the Dreamstate?
Anyway, these are not very practical questions, but this one is....
That story on some level was as much about my Mom as it was about Donna.
I'll never forget the pleased and proud look on her face.
What I'd like to know is this:
Would Mom remember me asking for an extra Candy bar that day, and all the extra Candy bars she sent with me after that?
Thats what I'd really like to know.
Posted by bulletholes at 11:54 AM
Monday, March 09, 2009
A SLIGHT REPRISE; ORIGINALLY POSTED 1/11/2007
Do we meet those we dream of as they dream of us?
"In the second grade we were allowed to walk home from school for lunch. Its hard to believe they let us do that. I don't think that can happen these days.
I always walked with Donna Hartlieb. We would part at the corner and meet again to return to school. Every day my mother gave me a Baby Snickers Bar for the walk back and I would split it with Donna on the corner.
To this day, I can still see Donna leaning on that tree at the corner with her little Red Riding Hood jacket on, waiting for me.
One day I asked Mom if I might have two candy bars.
She inquired as to why I would need two. I told her all about Donna and how we walked together everyday, and how I split my candy bar with her always.
I'll never forget the look on Mom's face.
"Oh yes, Stevie, you certainly may!"as she dried her hands on her Watermelon Apron and pulled another Snickers Bar from out of the cupboard.
She was beaming.
I was in Detroit in 2nd grade, and we moved back to Texas in the 6th grade.
Over the next several years, passing from a kid to a teenager, with all the hormonal turmoil and finding love, and loss, and pleasures and pains, and learning to kiss and touch and care and lust, I would keep Donna in mind, and try to maintain some semblance of being a gentleman.
Years later, when I was 21, a failed romance jogged my memory of Donna and brought fresh revelations of what it meant to have a friend, to really like someone, to be in love.
I wondered did or would Donna remember me, and what her memory of me might be, and how that memory might affect her relationships the way she still affected mine.
This was on my mind very late one night, and I decided to drive to Detroit to see if I could find Donna. It was about 3:00 a.m. as best as I can figure when I left Texas. I was wearing shorts and a T-Shirt and had no shoes.
Somewhere around Cleveland my car broke down. I had to walk the rest of the way. It had become quite cold and the wind was blowing very hard as I entered the Detroit city limits. I made my way north, up Jefferson Ave. to Grosse Pointe Park. People were looking at me, staring at me as I had few clothes, and like I said it was quite cold...
I walked down Windmill Drive and up Trombley, past my old house, and took a left on Essex... there were kids on bikes going to School. They all did a double take when they saw me, tossing their heads back in laughter at this fellow in Shorts and a T-Shirt and no shoes.
What an Idiot!!!
I was shivering at the corner of Essex and Harcourt, the very corner from 15 years prior when-where Donna and I would part and reunite, when I saw her.
She was on a Red Schwinn, with the big Chopper handlebars and Banana seat and with the pink and white streamers that flapped in the wind. She still had the Blonde hair cut, "Pixie" style, and the Little Red Riding Hood jacket, but like me, she was older now.
It was Donna, and she had seen me.
She did a quick U-Turn and approached me, her face full of recognition, all the while smiling and ringing the little bell that went "ching-ching" with her thumb..
I could tell she knew who I was.
My heart is beating wildly.
“What are you doing here? Aren't you cold?” she asks.
‘Yes, but I wanted to see you” I say.
“Do you know me?” she asks.
“You are Donna”
“Yes, how did you know?
“I used to live here, I used to walk with you”
Her face is even more full of recognition now and I am so full of emotion I can scarcely even say the words, cannot find the voice to ask that which I have come 1100 miles to ask...so here it is...
‘Donna, do you remember me like I remember you?”
I see it in her face, in her eyes, all she has to do is say the words...her lips begin to form the words to say “Yes, you are Steve, and I remember you so well, we walked and talked and you shared your Candy Bars with me..”
But before she is able to say these words...
I WOKE UP!
And I was shaking, saying "OH MY GOD" and shivering, and I was cold and the next three days I was feverish with the Flu...
If I have ever had a Dream where I went somewhere and met someone... that was it.
Do we really meet those we dream of as they dream of us?
Friday, March 06, 2009
I had a little run in with my Judge a few weeks ago….
I go in twice a week for drug screening, and I am proud to say that in the 4 months of the program I have not had a “dirty” screen. In fact, I have been “clean and sober” for 240 days now.
Anyway a few weeks back I called my case worker, Bart, and told him that my work was very busy and asked if I could postpone my screen by one day. Bart said it would be no problem, for me to just come in the next day, which happened to one of my Bi-Weekly court dates. Every other week everybody in the program, about 100 of us, assemble at court for promotions and graduations, and of course for sanctions for those who have violated the program for one thing or another.
So far i had been very successful at staying off the Judgelady's radar.
Well, as things go, the next day was very hectic at work again, and by the end of the day instead of taking off an hour early to go to my screening then to court, I had a memory lapse and only determined myself to go to court!
I did not even realize I had skipped my rescheduled screening until I sat there in court!
After court was over, I approached Bart and apologized for not doing my screening and asked what I should do.
Bart says “Just come in tomorrow morning”.
Before I could reply, I hear a voice behind me say “Whats this? You missed a screening?” and I turned and it was the Judge, taking off her robe, wanting an explanation concerning that which she had obviously just overheard.
So I explained the events that led up to me missing my screening as politely and thoroughly as possible.
She was not very sympathetic, and said to me very sternly:
“Your little problem should not become the Courts emergency”
I’m getting my chops busted by the Judgelady!
I wanted real bad to say to her:
“Emergency? Who said anything about an emergency! Anyone see an emergency?
I don't see any emergency's.”
But I didn’t…I just said
‘No ma’am your Honor, I wouldn’t want that at all”
Posted by bulletholes at 11:27 AM
"I had rather be in my present situation than to be elected to a seat in congress "
davy crockett, in a letter to his children in tennessee posted from nacodoches in the texas territory on his way to the alamo
On this day in 1836 The Alamo fell after having been under siege for twelve days by 4000 troops of the Mexican Army.
There were by most accounts 186 men defending the Alamo. They knew it was a desperate and hopeless fight and that the Mexican General Santa Anna had promised "No quarter", meaning every last man in the Alamo would be killed. There would be no mercy, and so it was.
The story of the Alamo is known all over the world.
It is the classic tale of men fighting for freedom with no chance of winning it for themselves.
There is not a boy or girl in Texas that does not know that Davy Crockett came from Tennessee with his Tennesseans to join the Texians struggle for independence. Or about Jim Bowie, famous for the knife he carried that took his name, who was found after the battle with 24 dead Mexicans at his side.
Or about Colonel William Travis, commander of the post who responded to Santas Anna's demand for surrender with a single cannon shot.
It is hard to say just how many people who have never been to Texas, that when shown a picture of the Alamo like the one above, would be able to identify it and tell you the same things that I just did.
If you are ever in San Antonio, which happens to be the most beautiful and romantic city in Texas, be sure to go tour the Alamo.
Posted by bulletholes at 6:29 AM
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Posted by bulletholes at 8:01 AM
Everyone from Galileo to Daniel Boone to Abraham Lincoln and Louis Pasteur.
Of course, being a good southern boy I was especially partial to folks like Robert E Lee
and Stonewall Jackson.
Furthermore, being an enlightened southern boy I also liked the stories of George Washington Carver and Frederick Douglas.
But when it came to being an enlightened southern boy from Texas, well, it just stands to reason that the stories of Davy Crockett and Jim Bowie at the Alamo were very dear to my heart.
And 'ol Sam Houston, who whupped Santa Anna at San Jacinto and went on to become the president of the Republic of Texas, he was my favorite. He had come from Tennessee having been raised by Cherokee Indians.
While Governor of Tenessee he kills a General in a pistol duel.
As a Representative of the Cherokee Nation he appears before Congress in Indian dress, including colorful Balnkets and beads, for which he is reprimanded.
I liked that when I was a boy.
I like it even more now.
In 1830 he beats a Congressman with a cane in front of the White House for disparaging remarks the congressman made.
Andrew Jackson sends him to Texas and in 1835 and Houston aquires a Generals Uniform in New Orleans.
On March 2nd 1836 Texas declares independence from Mexico and on March 4th Houston becomes Commander-in -Cheif of the Texas Army.
The Alamo falls on March 6th with Houston in retreat. His courage and loyalty are questioned, but he stands firm saying he will "take no counsel but my own".
Then, At four o'clock p.m. on April 21st 1836, Houston's army of 800 attacks Santa Anna's 1400 man army, and in twenty minutes he wins the decisive Battle of San Jacinto. He loses only 6 killed and 13 wounded, while Santa Anna lost 630 killed and 208 wounded.
Texas, having won its its independence, elects Houston as the first President of the Republic of Texas. He serves only a few months before resigning.
"You might win Independence from the North, but I doubt it...they are not a fiery people as you are, they come from cooler climes, but they move with a slow perseverence and deliberation...they intend to preserve this Union."
Texas seceeds and Houston is removed from office.
I like 'ol Sam Houston.
Posted by bulletholes at 6:49 AM
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
Bought some new shirts this weekend.
One is Creme colored...it wont last long. First thing I did was drool coffee down the front. Cleaned it real quick with a sponge.
For lunch I had Chicken Gumbo Soup...wrapped myself in a Bubble-Wrap bib!
Worked like a charm, but people kept poppin' my wrap.
Next time I'll wear a raincoat.
I also have a new Lavender shirt. It looks really swell on me beacause real men can get away with Lavender. All the ladies at the Meeting commented on it. I told them it was
"Formal and Familiar; Masculine, yet tres Sensitive".
Now none of the guys will talk to me.
Posted by bulletholes at 1:19 PM
OK...today is cleaning day...that is to say I'm clearing out a few of my old post put to draft because they were a little...drafty....but what the hell...why fix what ain't broke....or why try to fix what is beyond repair.
Just remember...no matter how good the post, the price is the same as the bad ones.
Back in '73, when I was just a Baby Hip-cat, I dug this song. I wanted to be a brother....
Isaac Hays, Truck Turner, Superfly!
I was so White I thought Rare Earth must be a bunch of brothers, but no!
They were all Lily White!
Then I found Tower of Power. They had some brothers!
They was like Sly and the Family....only more Stoned!
Platform soles just like mine!
So heres to my friend Barbara that broke her hip!
WHAT IS HIP? Tower of Power
So ya wanna dump out yo' trick bag.
Ease on in a hip thang,
But you ain't exactly sure what is hip.
So you started to let your hair grow.
Spent big bucks on your wardrobe.
Somehow, ya know there's much more to the trip
What is hip?
Tell me, tell me, if you think you know.
What is hip?
If you're really hip, the question,
"Will it show?"
You're into a hip trip.
Maybe hipper than hip.
What is hip
You became a part of a new breed.
Been smokin' only the best weed.
Hangin' out with the so called "Hippie set."
Seen in all the right places.
Seen with just the right faces.
You should be satisfied, but it ain't quite right
Hipness is. What it is!
Hipness is. What it is!
Hipness is. What it is!
Sometimes hipness is, what it ain't.
You went an' found you a guru.
In an effort to find you a new you,
And maybe even raise your conscious level.
While you're striving to find the right road,
There's one thing you should know,
"What's hip today, might become passe'."
Think about it y'all
What is hip?Ahhhhhhhhh!What is hip?
I'd like to know!
What is hip?Is it in the style of your hair?
What is hip?Is it in the clothes that you wear?
What is hip?I'd like to know.
What is hip?I'd like to know.What is hip?What is hip y'all? Hey!What is hip?Hey! Oh!What is hip?What is hip y'all?What is hip?I wanna know!
Posted by bulletholes at 10:55 AM
I'm not from here
I just live here
grew up somewhere far away
come here thinking I'd never stay long
I'd be going back soon someday
It's been a few years
since I got here
seen 'em come and I've seen 'em go
crowds assemble, they hang out awhile
then they melt away like an early snow
Onto some bright future somewhere
down the road to points unknown
Sending postcards when they get there
wherever it is they think they're goin'
I'm not from here
I just live here
can't see that it matters much
I read the papers and I watch the nightly news
who's to say I'm out of touch
nobody's from here
most of us just live here
locals long since moved away
sold the played-out farms for parking lots
went off looking for a better way
Onto some bright future somewhere
better times on down the road
Wonder if they ever got there
wherever it was they thought they'd go
Hit my home town
a couple years back
hard to say just how it felt
but it looked like so many towns I might've been through
on my way to somewhere else
I'm not from here
but people tell me
it's not like it used to be
they say I should have been here
back about ten years
before it got ruined by folks like me
We can't help it
we just keep moving
it's been that way since long ago
since the stone age, chasing the great herds
we mostly go where we have to go
Onto some bright future somewhere
down the road to points unknown
Sending post cards when we get there
wherever it is we think we'll go
"I'm Not From Here" by James Mcmurtry
from his 1989 debut Album 'Too long in the Wasteland"
Posted by bulletholes at 8:03 AM
Darn Geese, they fly thousands of miles south for the winter.
I saw a flock yesterday still heading south.
Ninety–Seven degrees it was last week and the darn Geese are still headin’ south.
Then what do they do?
They turn their Geese asses around and head back, thousands of miles north.
They do it year after year, man, every year, every last one of them.
I can barely get through a day.
Posted by bulletholes at 7:08 AM
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
CONTINUED FROM YESTERDAY, WHERE CHUCK CAME TO BE IN THE HOSPITAL HAVING OPEN HEART SURGERY
Chuck is the X Mrs. Bulletholes Uncle and she was very worried about him. In fact she was worried enough about him that she started bustin’ my chops everyday. It was the first week of December.
“You are going to give yourself a heart attack. You probably have Diabetes and Prostrate Cancer and Scarlett Fever and God knows what else. Look at you! You eat like a pig and all that dope you’ve done has probably fried your brain. I'd almost rather be your wife again than your liver! Think about your kids. Don't you want to see your grandchildren?” she would say.
That darn Mrs. Bulletholes! She don't miss too many chances.
But I took her words to heart, harsh and pointed as they were and went to the Doctor, who sent me to the Emergency Room and now I have my Sugar and Blood Pressure and Cholesterol under control.
After I got out of the Hospital I went with her to see Chuck. He was in ICU, his chest cracked open like a pecan, hanging in the balance between an aborted Triple Bypass and the Eternal.
Now the Ex Mrs. Bullets has one of the most terrific bedside manners you’ve ever seen. She can talk the ears off a Wooden Indian. She told Chuck, who seemed to be almost unconscious that I had just gotten out of the hospital. Her manner must have rubbed off on me as I began to speak:
“Yeah Chuck, I was getting Bitch bites all over my ass for a solid week from her (pointing to Shila) because of you and so I went to the Doctor. I rode my bike 5 miles to the office and when I got there they had me on a couch before you could say “Colonoscopy” and my blood pressure was thru the roof and my heart rate was to the moon and my blood sugar was just a few points off of me going into Diabetic shock and the Doctor said “Son, its all over for you if you don’t go to the Emergency Room” so I went and I was there for three days and I’m better now. Chuck, buddy, I don’t think any of this would have happened if it weren’t for you being in here.”
With that, I took his hand.
He looked at me through his Oxygen mask and gave a little nod of acknowledgement.
We looked each other eye to eye and there was a lotta emotion between us ‘cause we go a long ways back
There was a day 12 years ago where Chuck had spent the day with me while the Ex moved out. I told him a few years later that he might have saved my life that day.
So as I held his hand now I looked at him through his Oxygen mask and said
‘Chuck, your being here, right now ,may very well have saved my life” and I let loose a little tear, and with a cracked voice choked out the words
“That’s twice now, you know, twice that you have saved me”….
Chuck nodded and managed a smile. I was really kinda surprised that he seemed to know what I was talking about.
“Do you know what I’m talking about?’ I asked, just to be sure.
He opened his glassy eyes a bit wider, managed another nod and squeezed my hand.
Like I said it was all very emotional and I wondered had Mrs. Bullets (Shila) noticed this exchange.
An hour later, in the parking lot as we got into her car, Shila asked
‘What did you mean when you said he had saved your life twice”
I thought again about the day she had moved out, and how Chuck had listened to Dylan records with me, and how upset, depressed and hopelessly downhearted I felt that day and how kind he had been to hang with me.
And I thought about how to try to explain this to Shila without old hurts surfacing and to what possible good it would come of it.
They say that "explanations are accusations" and so it could be with this.
If you have been reading me for long, you know I don’t keep many secrets.
I grinned at her and said...
" Shila, I guess this one is just for me and Chuck”
Monday, March 02, 2009
Uncle Chuck checked himself out of the hospital the other day.
He had gone in for a trple-bypass in December, but they had to abort when they found his lungs in bad shape. They had him all the way split open too, barely able to perform even one procedure. He has had a few bouts with pnemonia since then and has become increasingly impatient with his doctors and progress to the point that he checked out of ICU against medical advice.
The X Mrs. Bulletholes wanted me to call him at home and try to talk some sense into him.
I wasn't sure what I could tell him, then I remebered a comment I left for my pal Ric O'Shay:
"I had a friend named Billy about 20 years ago that had a heart problem. He didn't change his diet or nuthin and so many people stayed on his ass for so long that he moved a long ways away so that he could do what he wanted... which was to smoke and drink and eat ribs and stuff without having to take a ration of shit from all his friends.
At the time, I didn't much blame him, but we lost him within about 2 years and I feel differently now.
I wish he'd have made some changes, but I don't blame him, and I just want you to know that a lot of people miss Billy.
And I added
You can do what you want, Chuck, and we will all miss you too, only you ain't got two years in you....you'll be lucky to make two weeks."
Anyway, I called 'ol Chuck to tell him this.
Luckily, I didn't have to...
Seems he spent a day at home, then decided he better get his butt back to the Hospital like the Doctors said. Those Doctors, they are pretty smart. They told him if he didn't come back, they weren't going to write any prescriptions.
Chuck said he will be a good boy and not do that again.
I just laughed and didn't say anything.
Ya'll need to know that Chuck might would listen to me. He has saved my life twice....
To be continued