Bend Over

A moment of truth approaches...I had my pre-employment comprehensive physical yesterday and have reason to believe I will be red flagged for life. The scars of childhood never fully dissolve and the doctors were horrified at what they found when I tried to bend over. "Worst I've ever seen" was the kind of thing I heard a lot. One too many back bending tackles when I was a teen cost me everything.*

And now I remember why I fixed the transmission because I was planning to go to Mexico a year ago but only had $75 so got sidetracked by scooby snack junkies in Austin and the plight of the night iguana and drum circles and then a trip to the Alamo to find Pee Wee's bike was fruitless but at least I bought a nice cowboy hat and then the descent continued after a failed attempt to land a job gutting wild hogs...into Corpus Christi where I hit rock bottom trying to reach the ocean and found it polluted by corexit and oil and dying animals as college kids laughed with beer goggles on. I lost my eyesight, hearing and my bowels flooded the sand as rust built up on my mind and guitar strings. Thanks BP! And I thought I'd die a hundred miles from the border but managed to pull through and find a job fixing sewage pipes in a mobile home park and living in the bushes outside the police station...showering at a park...eating at the baptist soup tent. I thought I'd improve my life by living at a junk yard of impounded cars and burned out trucks

This truck ended up next to my van and the smell of burned paint was overwhelming

But the whole time I was trying to get to Mexico to start over in a land where I can afford the health care.

Now I'm going to get official proof that I need health care. The Parkinson's disease, the spine, the hearing, the frozen bowels all have me poised for a trip to the emergency room. My fate is uncertain and my allies have dwindled to a crippled musician and old ladies feeding me cookies.

I'm already packing my bags.

*Cow Milk Blues came over yesterday to thank me for moving him to an abandoned house to flee the Puerto Ricans. He thought we'd celebrate my new job and I told him I flunked the physical and so he thought we'd celebrate not getting a job and we drank Edge beer. He wanted to play guitar but a buddy of mine in St. Louis died the other day and he'd played my guitar once so I said no, the guitar is in Heaven for the day, and we drank some more and then the seeds of resentment grew in my Grinch heart and in a bleary haze of hate I wrote the previous two posts and laughed myself to a loathsome sleep as bridges burned again on my bleak horizon.