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