Thursday, April 11, 2013


I've been all over the map lately because Cow Milk Blues is a crippled alcoholic and every other person in town is a rancher and gun enthusiast*.
Either I learn to shoot assault rifles at wild hogs or I gravitate toward the only other person who sees the library as something more than a bathroom. But to converse with Cow Milk means drinking at least 48 ounces of 8% which does deaden the senses and makes me forget the desperate past I've lived and the uncertain future, but brings out Bleacher booze demons that should be left locked up.
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try finding a perfect match for this
 I'm concentrating on getting the van running in top condition. That's my goal. Shocks, headers, exhaust, carburetor, brake lines, transmission cooler. These aren't upgrades, mind you, they are basic maintenance that is about 25 years overdue. The spray paint graffix I want on the side of the van is another story. I also want a port hole window.

 I'm tired and at risk of heart disease and my lower spine is fused. But my blood pressure was 111/64. Resting heart rate was 65. When I climbed the ladder with a 50lb vest on it shot to 98 and the doctor nervously worried. It's still around 95. Junk food is going to kill me.

How are you?
Health is my priority

*The gun shop in town has a big poster of Obama "Salesman of the Month" since when he got reelected they sold 10,000 assault rifles in a month.

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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.