Monday, May 20, 2013


I've moved but not to Guatemala or Puebla but to the absolute heart of an inferno where only the strong survive. This past week would've broken almost everyone I know. 5000 lbs of concrete mixed by hand in 112 degree heat. Three people passed out in the 107 degree furnace. Roadrunners wept. Lizards cried. I Felt ultimately that the world must have the oil and gas and that my life has been risked for less fruitful reasons so I would either perish or grow stronger. I didn't care either way even as my heart throbbed in diseased abuse and I collapsed in a lump at the end of the day. Sweat poured from my face like someone was dumping water on me. What's strange is that I've spent so much $ on my stupid van that I haven't saved anything in the realm of what punishment my body has taken.
Not pictured are the one-into-two flare stacks I welded on as tailpipes
But Uvalde is a place in my past now. I'm living full time at the man camp near my material warehouse.
The first and last scene in Once Upon A Time in the West include boom town simulation. That's exactly how I feel right now. If a society doesn't grow then it dies. Hippies don't understand that there is no cultural stasis. Eagle Ford Shale play is described as the California Gold Rush and the Oklahoma Land Rush combined. The biggest oil, gas and gas condensate activity ever realized in North America. The construction I've seen here has no equal in my last 40 years. When I lived in Arcata, CA more houses burned down accidentally than were built each year. Even Los Angeles where housing tracts were built with false mortgage profits I didn't see the money, the full shopping carts, the Big Red smiles. There's a bunkhouse built every week here now. Houses aren't so much in demand as it is understood that the play will move east and south. So mancamps and RV parks are the rage. That's it. I'm adrift again...almost putting down roots at the old age home...almost trying to start a music school...but tearing up everything, abandoning my beloved Knabe piano and the tortured furnace for my own selfish fortune, and the money will start to grow and the SCADA solutions will surpass my ability to teach a few chords to kids. I don't want to starve again but the complications I deal with now are comparable to the bitter days on the Salvation Army concrete, in Corpus desolation, stabbing pain, frozen humility, the roaches of my demise laughing as I ached and swept (my chore) the roaches and fleas and dropped misery...for nothing but an egotistical laugh for being ethical. A fucking roasting agony for nothing and now the complications will contribute to the demise of everything. Although there is a documentary "Fracknation" that raises a few questions on how dangerous fracking really is. I know that only my self image is at stake.

I also moved out of my house in Uvalde because it was a horror show that could be condemned and because this 110 degree heat makes me think this is a doomed land. It's only inhabitable for 3 months of the year. The rest of the year we burn more coal to  fuel our air conditioners than we ever retrieve in oil. So it's a net loss that makes no sense mathematically or morally. But that doesn't concern you because your reality is divided from your resources.

So this is the last stop. Either I'll make a go of my SCADA/PLC/RPC/Well Manager world or I'm going to Puebla. Probably both but I don't know the time line. I could easily die tomorrow, if not from the H2S then from my addiction to pre-buttered* french toast sticks from Walmart.

*This is repulsive to admit, maybe the worst thing I can admit today. If pre-buttered pre cooked pre packaged french toast sticks don't save me time (and they don't save me time) then WHAT THE FUCK SAVES TIME? Nothing. It's all a PHS rock standard fuck me in the arse lie.


Anonymous said...


Oggy Bleacher said...

YOU COME DOWN HERE AND WALK IN MY DICKGUMSHOES FOR A MILE OR TWO AND THEN WE WILL TALK> Your drunk misery is surpassed by the hairy balls in your mouth. I dont care what insurance fraud draws you to the bottle but in the pissing contest of broken hearts I'll see you at the bar,
you lost your pride but I lost my piano and that humiliates me as Ray Bryant chose the right path and I fucked myself for a broken shoulder socket and a few ducets.

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