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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 20, 2010

photo posted from my iPhone

June 19, 2010

held captive by the recollection of my sins



Why do we need to test a friendship? Not with the midnight call to come pick us up at the bus station. But with pranks. Every once in a while you decide to do something to your friend that is only going to be funny to the people you tell the story to. It won’t be funny to the friend. You’re pretty sure. You do it any way.

I’m thinking about how just now I painted a “D” on Doug’s car door. Uninvited. With enamel. He might laugh. I guess. I was gonna paint something else, something that would really piss him off. “My dick hurts”, was one idea. I was told what his childhood nickname was. Again, friends hurting friends. It wasn’t nice. So I didn’t do that either. But why did I need to paint anything on there? It felt like it needed to be done. To let him know his friends are out to get him? He can’t trust us? No, it’s something totally different. But I’m not sure what.

Do we want to built up their resistance to insult? Do we think think they will learn to laugh at the bumps in the road? Are we curious how good they are at forgiving? I don’t know. So please submit your ideas about what I should paint on the rear door.

June 18, 2010

how we used to talk when we used to type

letter

Love the cursive typewriter. This guy writes a full page letter just to order a couple gun stocks. This is why digging in the garbage can be so fun. Unless you think this letter is pointless. Then you’re wondering why someone would dig through garbage to bring dirty old order forms home.

If Elliot could install a buy it now button on my website, we might be able to make some scratch out here.

holla at your dude

hauler

Got my business cards done from Doug’s friends at The Key in Oakland. They look hella fresh.

June 15, 2010

nice pipes

Feelin’ horny under the hood.

Hard Worker caught on fire, just the starter motor, it’s in the shop. Mickey drove his truck instead, which is better, 4 wheel drive. We took a washing machine up a fire road till it dead ended, then dollied down a deer path to a cabin at the top of a Mill Valley peak. It was the strangest move I’ve ever done. And just a warm up. He wants his whole house moved in by month’s end.

June 14, 2010

farts as memories

Dateline – My bedroom

I wasn’t always a legend. I used to be a simple folk hero back in rural New Hampshire. There were ballads sung about my pick up truck, my favorite being the one that compared it to the Devil’s welded steed.

Of course as a folk hero I fought for good. But after awhile it was like too many union victories and everyone forgot the companies hired only small children till I came along.

The little hamlets upstate began writing new verses to the old tributes, implying I shouldn’t get free milkshakes down at the Friendly Toast.

That’s how it goes. You have to be hated in your hometown to be a legend in bedrooms across time zones and tax brackets.

I married a woman, a famous musician. She played the rape flute. Many women looked at her and hated how tight she wore her jeans. It was a problem for me too. She couldn’t even carry her own guitar pick in her pants pockets. I’d misplace it and she’d become angry.

It was when I decided to become historically significant that it all fell apart between us. I spent a lot of time at fundraisers and dinner parties. Too much time, she felt.

So it’s no surprise tonite I lie here alone, all the pillows to myself, I sit propped up more fully than before as I type out my personal history, and breaking wind in such a way as to remember, also, at one time, I was just a child.

June 13, 2010

paper or oil drilling?


Everything but the bananas are in plastic bags! They have plastic stickers on them. And all the products in the background are in plastic.

Last year the City of San Francisco passed a law aimed at banning plastic shopping bags from grocery stores and other large chain retailers. The people all voted for it and I felt good to be living in a progressive city that isn’t blind to the pollution these bags cause, from space in landfill to the use of petroleum to make them. So imagine my surprise when I went down to DeLano’s (the crazy Russian one) a few months later and they bagged up my english muffins with plastic. So I asked why.

“The law stated the bags we use must be made out of recycled fibers and at least 2.50 mm thick. These new bags meet those requirements,” the manager told me.

So the corporation went around the will of the people and used bags that contain more plastic – MORE PLASTIC – to get around the law aimed at banning plastic. Why? Plastic is cheaper than paper. That is why I feel like big business is out to kill me. They care about short term profit. Oggy Bleacher taught me to care about the long term of the planet.

And they have a nice place for you to throw your old plastic bags for recycling right at the front door. How toxic is that process? Why are we still so enamored with plastic? We know it doesn’t break down organically, it just gets really small and goes into the fish, the birds, the people that eat the fish and the birds, and messes with our health. So use paper. Invest in clean energy so the process of making it doesn’t rely on fossil fuels. And of course, I should have brought a cloth bag. Let’s get going people.

June 12, 2010

my new pet peeve

Bicyclists. They don’t follow the rules, but they flip out on you if you don’t. Which of course, you could easily kill them. But the number one pet peeve I have is when I get into the bicycle lane to make a right hand turn and they pass me on the right. They come barreling from behind screaming, cursing me out, when it is totally legal for me to be where I am doing what I’m doing.

Think about it Mr. Bicyclist. I’m in a turn lane, making a turn. You are supposed to stop and let me turn. If you are really in a rush and want to break the law, go around me on the left. I have a 12 foot long blind spot, so passing me on the right when I’m making a right hand turn is gonna kill one of you someday. But don’t listen to me. Listen to your heroes over at the San Francisco bicycle coalition.

“A right-turning car is supposed to move into the bike lane before the intersection, anywhere from 200 to 50 feet before, first signaling the lane merge, then merging right to the curb lane, then finally making the actual turn when safe.

A bike lane is a travel lane, like a standard travel lane, it’s just not meant to have motor vehicles “traveling” in it. But to make a right turn, any vehicle (bike, car, truck, etc) is supposed to be in the right lane, so a motor vehicle needs to safely merge into the bike lane (yielding to any traffic already in that bike lane), before making the turn.”

So you holy rollin’ bike jackasses who think a truck shouldn’t be on the road, even though your bicycle is made up of parts from around the world that certainly didn’t arrive in S F on bicycle, but rather were trucked in, if you think I care about running over you, you’re right. But don’t think you can sue me while you’re laid up in a hospital bed mourning the loss of your legs.

free hot dogs once a month or something


It’s been there for four years, but we just found it. Frankenmart. It’s a weird store. There is a miniature balsa wood billboard structure in the window, and when I walked by the sign said the space was for rent, $7 a week. I went in and drew up an ad and she put it in the window. Please check out her website and see what a completely awesome spot this is.

sex sells

photo posted from my iPhone
It isn’t any more blatant than this sexy bottle in a red dress and a big hat.

June 11, 2010

not so long bus

photo posted from my iPhone My neighbors upstairs had a band stay with them. They had a chopped school bus set up with beds and a kitchen. It looked good with my trucks.

photo posted from my iPhone

Did I ever show you Sean’s toolbox? He hand painted it.

photo posted from my iPhone

June 9, 2010

courtroom boredom

Doug says they only wear wigs in Parliament.

“The band?” I asked.

“No,” he said. He went and bought a bologna and cheese sandwich and brought it into the courtroom.

“you can’t eat that in here!” I whispered, but with exclamation.

“You can if you’re diabetic, which Im planning to be.”

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