Monthly Archives: October 2008

“AUG Mother Fucker!!!” Man I spent nearly 5 years of my post high school pre college life in that hell hole. I made the best of it, and had it not been for Nacho-Mama’s burrito place, Bryan James Volkey, Johnson, and my car, I’de have ogne crazy. I finally found out about columbia sc and tiffany and ellen, and stealing bikes, and dumpster diving and breaking the law and being a total rebel in this enviornment, and there were some good times, but mostly it sucked ass. Wow. Augusta Ga, lost my virginity, my first girlfriend, my first protest, my first home away from home, tons of friends, tons of lonely days where being a hermit was the only way to cope with a fascist government fist carried out by co-workers who felt it was their duty to punish me for everything on the face of the earth, and i rebelled against it all. Oh we all did in some way or another. I remember so much about you augusta, and this is one of the only photos i have of you, and yet, what more do i need? this one explains it all. Politics, fucking, fucking off, ska hats, leather jackets, homelessness, late nights turning into early mornings, skateboarding, cameras, and hardly anything to show for it except life experiences. Which i suppose is better than most.

 

God i remember so much just from this one picture, i remember the hangnail gallery, which closed down, the best punk venue ever, i remember bands that played there the intimate mosh pits, the lame ass croud stuck in shitty augusta also, i remember trying to act like i wasnt in the military every where i went and gettin gaway with it, i remember the one and only strip club experiance i ever had with my roomate having to take a dump and it being the only place open, and looking atrocious, 

I remember melissa, both of them comming to visit me in my shitty ass dorm room, the crappy pool table, my first real fight, where i nearly got my ass stomped, by my supposed best friend, i remember the friendly talking (barking) fox that visited me on occassion, and how one day he showed up with a wife and kids, and i never saw him agian, 

I remember dumpsters filled with treasures almost nightly, i remember finding the suicide journal, and giving it back to its rightful owner, and never hearing back from her, i remember you beth, finding your number in an old address book, and liberating myself from this shit hole through you, and dreams of meeting you in california some day, i remember haivng to go to hooters, cause my friends knew no other place to go on a work night, i remember shamming out of every fucking detail on the planet, i remember asa and chatting about religion all night long, i remember endless nights of youtube and practicing breakdancing, and spending 12 hours 6 days a week, watching green lines turn red, and us turning them green again, i remember talking to you melissa all nigh tlong on the phone, if you called me i got to talk to you for free, im not sure how much it cost you, but, i remember us trying desperately to have sex at work, but it failing, 

the radio show in ait, i cant forget that, its all over my old video tapes, the augusta film club with its bunch of misfits, and hasbeens, trying to make a comeback,

AUG Mother F@#$%ER!!!

AUG Mother F@#$%ER!!!

 

 

augusta ga, who would have thought this hell hole would shape me into the person i am today.

 all that from this one lousy pic. interesting what a visual can do for the brain

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25 and what to show for it?

a quarter of a century old, and still at the same old routines, fascinated with history, like everything in my life, history, never new, never changing, stuck like the pages of a mildewed elementary school history book,, about the time I stopped creating, I seemed to have lost that ability, to think to create, to spark, to anything in my own light. 

 

Many people half my age progress further than I do, still looking for a 8$ an hour job, still changing majors, still fixing up the bullet dogger that got me cross country twice, and lord knows how many other places. I love the open road, but these days it only leads me down already traveled highways. To already conquered destinations. I wonder if this is how Christopher Columbus felt after America, how lance felt after his 2nd 3rd 4th 5th 6th and 7th tour de france, where do we go from here? how do we improve our constantly decaying brain cells before they all die out? 

I dont want to go on forever if all im doing is painting on the same fucking canvas, still titiling at the same piece of artwork 7 years later, where is the top of everest, im sick of being frostbit, im sick of getting snowed in, im ready for a revolution. 

But where do you find revolution in a deadbeat generation? Where 1’s and 0’s are more important than family values and playing outside on a trampoliene an activity which lately puts me out of breath. God im old, and yet, there are tons older than me, and they are still living, still creating, still giving life a chance, so why shouldnt I? 

Found a jones soda today, a block from my house at a convienence store run by a lovely middle aged Indian woman, she was very friendly, and was watching the sarah paulin riots where supporters of her were calling obama a terrorist. i hope he wins, and this country gets the kick in the mouth it deserves.

Until then I am working on a change. But where do you find revolution at 25? I dont know yet, but im out looking.

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