waiting for my muse in a dark alley with an aluminum bat

unedited pure neanderthal musings NeANDERThallus's DONut EDiT!!! historical records from my cave walls... brutality, menial labor, minor victories, hot sexy interludes....... 3 years on the edges of a society that i cant distance myself enough from

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since 2005 i've been picking at this keyboard. the thoughtstreams flow, who knows from whence they came, or to whence they go? enjoy the ride...... i am

Sunday, November 06, 2005

i found out where the bums crap last nite after staggering out of a limo and losing my bearings
halfway across weedstrewn lot that noticed the unmistakeable aroma of human excrement
not quite as bad as the overflowing toilets at woodstock
i avoided those foul puddles of noxious nastiness that later became ammuntion in mud fights for the truly twisted
projectiles of filthy mud that flew towards the crowd of gapers egging on the drug maddened mud and feces soaked tribe from time to time
they were alot of fun in the moshpit later too, before the fires
if you put that many people in a stockade and charge them 4 bucks for water all weekend in augusts broiling sun, some shit is getting wrecked
tearing the plywood walls down was a blast, but burning them was even blastier
but this aint about woodstock
this is about why im going to give my liver a break for a few months
halfway across the lot i knew i had stepped in something nasty but headed for the railroad tracks instead of turning around and stepping in something else nasty
i shuffled my feet in the gravel for a bit and the smell lost some pungency
feeling and smelling like a winner i started to follow the tracks
and noticed they went on forever
following interstate 95, carving gentle arcs together into infinity
a mile or so later i figured out i was lost and looked for a break in the weeds under 95
there was no break on my right
just a big fence and hundreds of railroad cars and devices to move them cranes and giant M looking things and truckbodieso
i made my way under 95 again and thankfully this time i didnt walk through the homelesss restroom area
began a bit to reflect on things in a serious way
this was not a james bond moment
no suavely ordered martinis
lets see what happens when i treat my old pal alcohol like hes been treating my head some mornings
like hes been treating my internal organs
i dont particualarly care for the smell of human feces on my favorite shoes
so just like i had to return that dog to the pound when he ate my special bag of healing herbs
im gonna have to put this old friend away for a stretch
no parole til 2006 or so

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