Oh Yoko

What is this all about? I gave my notice and the bastards don't even have the guts to call me back or even acknowledge that I gave them the boot. Bullshit. I went to Inglewood to instal a new sidepanel on a file cabinet...and then went to an Office depot and built two chairs and a right return for a desk. I'm ashamed to look in the mirror.

box

thanks for the box of gifts. The van is actually deathly cold so I will be sleeping in that shirt you sent me. And I had to cover the van with a tarp to keep the rain out. This cold weather was exactly what I was trying to avoid. I have given my notice at the cotton field and hope to be leaving as soon as I buy my freedom. Maybe when Obama is inaugurated there will also be an emancipation proclamation for white slaves such as myself. One can hope our people will be free one day.
It's just one crisis after another here at George's. Just imagine feeble old grandpa, gasping and wheezing but STILL trying to start the fire and cook for five people and three giant dogs. There are mountains of paperwork teetering next to the fireplace. Ash is overflowing onto the carpet. Meanwhile the newest tenant is driving a car with no hood and a battery in place of the passenger seat, but instead of doing anything he is beating on a drum video game. It's totally out of control and though I try to keep his computers running they are beyond hope. And the printers are all falling apart. It's too much. That and the wheezing. He's lucky that he won't live long enough to have a stroke, though his blood pressure is high. And his blood sugar topped out at 334 the other day. 334! 210 is type 2. 334 is like a worlds record. But he insists on pie and twizzlers and soda. It's a household of the doomed.
I gotta go take the ash out of his fireplace now.
thanks again! love marco

this sucks

I'm really suffering here in the van. It leaked pretty bad on my bed. Then I went to Inglewood to assemble a bookshelf right next to the projects. I was certain I'd be killed. Then I went back to Inglewood and passed the remains of a car and tell-tale bullet cones and police. Crenshaw and Manchester. The worst. Freezing. Wet.
So I gave my notice. Fuck this job. I should just stop going but I feel a week or two is still possible. But if I get gunned down because I'm trying to make $25 assembling a fucking shitty Chinese computer hutch then I'm going to punch god or the devil in the fucking face.
Then I see a nice mexican trailer for rent and I'm dying in the van and I've got to sell this other shitty van before it kills me.
This is all bullshit. The fuckers stealing peter to pay paul the car companies that built this shitty van are asking for money? Fuck them. They can't build a car worth a shit.
I'm pissed. In general. And I'm not healthy and I'm not playing the guitar. this fuck ass job. Awful. I can't wait to quit. Then I'm going south. I don't care.
How are you dealing?

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These were supposed to be the pictures I would post, me in the van next to a gorgeous beach. Running water. Power. Cooking beans on a stove. instead of this, a picture of me with a damn oxygen sensor of a crappy dodge van, even as Chrysler GOES OUT OF BUSINESS. what a joke! What a disaster!




I fucked it all up. Everything is fucked.

freezing and ranting

I just wanted to play guitar and be a bum. Working has fucked everything up!

P.S. That's Genesis "Supper's Ready" playing in the background. Maybe the only good thing left in this world is old Genesis.