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My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

tough guy poetry and manly stories of loneliness
all contents copyright Jon Rolston 2004, 2005, 2006

June 18, 2008

live to ride

I have a really excellent interview with Paul, above, to share with you. It needs a little spell check but I’ll give you a little taste to hold you over till tomorrow.

Paul: “Having cancer is not a what most people think it is. One minute you believe yourself to be perfectly healthy, virile, dynamic and the next your life is completely consumed. With the battle to survive. Completely consumed. It’s not like having flu or breaking your arm. Or gettin’ smashed in the head with a crowbar or getting stabbed. Because I’ve done all those things. While some things will preoccupy you for a certain amount of time cancer affects every single aspect of your life completely. And cancer is not push over.”

June 17, 2008

how to earn a living painting houses!

Ken sent me a picture of the Fish Market’s new paint job. (Ken’s up in the top window.) I asked him to tell us about his career as a house painter. Here he goes:

“Not much to say about painting. Usually has a bad reputation. Painters that is. House painters that is. This career is home to many alcoholics, mostly because it is so easy to get into: a ladder, a bucket, a scraper, a brush and a phone # is all you need to start your own business. Hard to smell booze on a painter when he is 30 ft up high on a ladder – speaking of high, when I first got hired with a paint company I was immediately put in closets. (That’s where they put beginners. 1, to see if you can paint; 2, if you can’t paint and the customer can’t see you the owner won’t know he is getting charged 35.00 an hour for a painter who is worth about 4.50.) I was high off of BIN…shellac based stain sealer that can be cut and cleaned with denatured alcohol. Things went down from there.

Shortly after getting promoted out of closets the boss left me and my friend Dave on a job out in Stratham, NH.

He said, “You guys finish the job and I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

The owner of the house – and he couldn’t talk very well and he could hear just a little – he was a stroke victim. The sun was hot and the radio kept cutting out of reception depending on where you were on the ladder. Frustrated we went the the liquor store in North Hampton and got some vodka. We came back out and saw our boss at the gas station about a 40 yards away.

I said “Dave don’t look now but the boss is runnin’ up to the van…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dave said and I said, “No, really.”

The boss comes right up to the van and and said, “Hey, will you guys take the rest of the ladders off my truck and take ’em back to your job? I have to go to the dealership.”

We said “Sure.”

He didn’t even say anything about the liquor store! As soon as we had his ladders tied to our van we were off, laughin’ like a mother fucka’ and tearin’ into the vodka. Next thing I remember I wake up at my house. Dave called and said he drove the red company van home after dropping me off. Apparently we’d gone to the Old Bridge for a few instead of back to work. He also said he might of hit something on the way home. With the red company van.

I told him to pick me up and we’ll handle it. He drove up with a head light smashed and drooping lower than my saggy eye*. We drove back the route Dave took and saw 3 mail boxes and a planter box obliterated. That explained it.

Laughing all the way with a pounding headache to a junkyard, not having any money because I spent it all the night before buyin’ drinks for a 59 year old jaguar with crooked teeth dancing to songs played by a Tesla cover band. So I was told. I was trying to drink ashes out of the ashtrays. So I’m told.

Anyhow we stuffed all the auto parts that we needed in our shirts and down our pants. We probably walked like we’d been in a car wreck. Back to the job, the ladders were still on the house, the radio was still blarin’, comin’ in like a champ, the guy with the stroke waved, our paint was still in the buckets. A little viscous though. Not bad.

I stopped drinking and rent some warehouse space where I refinish and restore doors, furniture, and cabinets. I have to pee now. See ya…”

*Ken was in an avalanche that crushed one cheek bone, so he has a bit of a droopy eye on that side of his face. If he doesn’t make jokes about it we will.

June 16, 2008

3 horsepower

Mr. Landry sent this photo along. I don’t know what to say about it…

June 15, 2008

I wore these shoes every day for two years. I’m going to miss them. They went in the shoot can right after this photo.

Doug’s hair in the dying light that skimmed across cargo cranes on the docks of the port of Oakland before it hit that twisted fortress.

“I want two chicken tacos, pollo por favor. Dos baby. Dos.”

Diesels hit the fucked up dip at the railroad track that cuts across the port access road and all hell starts clanging and shaking while the drivers gear down with that sweet deep decrescendo and turn into an open gate in the chain link that rings the whole stretch around here, hobo control and a loading dock is a nice place to grab and go so there’s razor wire up there catching plastic bags in the act of trespass.

Just a taco truck pulled off the road alongside the rails and there’s nothing else to buy for miles around here. It makes me nervous. I suppose break rooms in those buildings have snack machines. But what if I really want a newspaper? A pack of cards? A plastic rose? I have the same uneasy feeling here as I do way out in the woods, a wallet full of cash but no where to spend it. Just locked up warehouses and bolted shut trailers.

Doug and I take our tacos out behind to get out of the Oakland sun. Life doesn’t seem easy even when it is. There’s always diesel particulate in the air. My truck might not start. I should be making money. But maybe for thirty seconds I feel good. I’m somewhere new. Then I’m heading home. Doug makes me laugh. He’s funny. We’re seeing the world. Maybe I’ll always be poor. I wish I could enjoy it more. It’s not bad.

starvin’ like marvin’

how to flush your life down the toilet. literally.

I suppose this is an unknown artist. I didn’t see any signature anywhere on the piece. Let’s talk about how good it is…

1. a hand drawn wood grain border – adds tremendously to the backwoods charm
2. The speech bubble is dripping – perhaps the first time I’ve seen this
3. The wife – sorry I cut her full figure out of the frame. She is drawn in a totally different style than our protagonist.
4. The concept is grand. Just grand. A guy so desperate he thinks he can kill himself by flushing himself down the toilet…I almost burst into tears at the tragedy/pathos of this little scene.

June 14, 2008

This bus swivels in the middle. You’d never believe it, a giant diamond deck steel circle in the floor halfway down the aisle allows the ass end of this fifty foot bus to swing around tight corners. Accordian walls five feet long overcome the conundrum of inflexible metal at the joint. A metric shit-ton of us ride home in the dark down Geary Corridor lit up with Vietnamese neon and Discount Mattress. I’m in a city now, I can’t read everything. I’ll never know for sure what is happening in this place. I let another fart rip and the rumble of the bus keeps me anonymous. That has its ups and downs.

June 13, 2008

I wish Gary had won. He had such a cool font.

copper dough

FYI I broke my digital camera so it’s gonna be all crap iPhone photos from now on. I took this one at SF Scrap Metal where I cashed in my copper wire collection to the melodious tune of $186.40.
This is gonna help because I’m taking the next two weeks off from working to make a mini-doc about donuts…something on the back burner for too long. I listened to my own blog post advice and I’m gonna go for it.

let’s dance!

This made me happy. I was looking for Haji Springer videos when I came across it.

June 11, 2008

california driving school
lesson one: strike first

All’s I’ve been doing lately is scanning images and posting them here. I haven’t taken the time to write anything and it bums me out. I’m gonna stop working so much and get back to entertaining myself and who ever else comes along. It’s not just work that shuts me up though. I’m scared to write. I have an audience of friends, family and co-workers. I hardly ever write about my dick anymore. Or my balls for that matter. Or where they go and who they meet. And when was the last time I told a good story about how much I hate my boss? Or what I stole? Or how much coke I sucked up the night before? I haven’t dared to explore a fresh perspective of molestation in months. This virtual community is starting to make me feel Amish. It is time to go for freedom, to use some of the stuff our fighting men have fought and died to keep. Why set that freedom up on a shelf and just look at it? It can go bad. Screw the lid off and let the freedom genie out! Joplin said right when she said “freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose”. I got stuff to lose, but I also have the desire to lay it all on the line, go for broke, do or die time people. Speak from the heart, and every other stop on the chakra line. Let it all out. That’s what it means to have nothing left to lose. Freedom is the moment of clarity that all the golden shackles of professional 3 horsepower blenders and Sirius radio receivers shouldn’t keep us from standing up and saying What the Fuck? and not mincing the sentiment with abbreviation. WTF? exactly. Fucking what the fuck good is that? So to all the WTF’ers out there today, lets make a promise to ourselves and take the time to let each word roll off the tongue with fullness and cherish the way you can put all that emotion into three little words. I love you for it.

nice tits

Saw this when I dropped my fake walls off at the photo shoot.

June 10, 2008

stupid wall

posted from iPhoneSlide.com

Just got a call that this wall is the wrong color. I’m heading up to Novato to paint it gray. I kinda hate this thing. It looks like it belongs in the haunted house of a traveling carny. The corners of the stones have lips that seem unnatural and they line up to well… Sorry. This was my first attempt and I didn’t take Stagecraft 401 in college…

June 8, 2008

price check

Sean came up with a great idea. Home Depot should sell beer. Pallets stacked with cases. It’d be their best seller. They could have a V.I.P contractor’s lounge with the Makita tool girls in bikinis with tool belts on serving drinks. What do you with an awesome idea? Blog about it? Doesn’t seem enough.

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