Dick Clark to the Rescue

One of the books I've been referring to for the next stage of my life.
"Dick Clark: Your Happiest Years."




The other book is "How to Marry a Millionaire"

Fear can hold you prisoner...hope can set you free

That's the tagline for Shawshank redemption. I'm not sure why it applies to the case of a guy wrongly imprisoned and then unlawfully kept in jail who then escapes. He had no hope of getting out but stubbornly kept going. And he wasn't afraid while he was in jail...he was just miserable. Somehow the pep talk that Red gives Andy about living or dying sort of ignores their situation. Did he mean that he should get busy living...by trying to escape? Or should he resign himself to the situation? It sounds to me like Stephen King heard that trite expression in a Maine coffee shop and decided it had to go somewhere. Anyway, The tagline could be on the crest for Riverbank Rooms. It would be a good neighbor to the dusty old christmas decorations and one broken sea shell decoration that says "Go to the beach" or the ragged doll with "Welcome Home" carved in a piece of wood.

Brooks is the old guy played by James Whitmore. He finally gets paroled and bags groceries and lives at a rooming house that reminds me in every way of Riverbank Rooms. He feels he has nothing to contribute to the world so he hangs himself after carving "Brooks Was here" on a beam.
Red, played by Morgan Freeman, also gets paroled and ends up in the same store bagging groceries and sleeps in the same room that Brooks lived in. He writes "So was Red" on the beam. He also feels that his life has no direction but instead of hanging himself he remembers that Andy has buried something for him to find.



I didn't get a job offer yet and I'm not crying any tears. That 6 am - 2:30 shift making medical forceps wearing a white gown in a soundless dust free cavern looked fairly nightmarish. The take home pay is terrible, just enough to let me live in Brooks's old room and eat fried chicken. The future is nonexistent. They expected a 12 week production boost that I will be used for. If I am needed after that then I will be retained and if not then I will be let go. Their loyalty to me is zero and I don't like working for people like that. It's bad for my health. If I want to be treated like a number then I can rob a bank and go to jail like Andy. Then I can escape through the sewer and be everyone's hero.

The real goal for the winter is to turn my homeless stageplay into a musical. Like Little Orphan Annie for adults. Instead of orphans we have pedophiles. How funny is that? I think there are precedents like Avenue Q. Anyone see that? So I've got to keep my eyes on the prize.



Also, there are some courses I'd like to take at the college. It's never too late to learn an industrial trade. That way I can go work at the golf tee manufacturer. Did you know all buttons used to be made in the lakes region? And electric train sets too. There is a ton of pre-china assembly plants up here. Webster Valve is over near Franklin, the home of Daniel Webster. There are others.

There is no internet access at Brook's room. Just a streetlight and a clock radio. I take my laptop to the library and use their wireless connection. I've been reading a book a day since I got here. Naturalist, Ship of Gold. Slaughterhouse Five. Fear of Flying, On Chesile Beach.



I've been clean and sober a week now. I was walking the tracks the other day to see where they went. They cross a river and lead out of town. That's about it. I was reminded of the movie Distant Thunder about a Nam Veteran, played by John Lithgow, living in the woods, picking ferns to sell. He walks the tracks to get in and out of the woods. It's also where the bush folk go to get hit by trains and end their misery. Sounds plausible. His son eventually saves him. It came out in 1988, I think I saw it at the Newington Mall. I didn't feel anything was wrong with living in the woods then and still don't. The villains all drove cars and sold things. They were nasty and petty bullies. The hero is basically a subsistence farmer with a bowie knife. But I remember a few kids at school laughing at the bearded character and saying, "Oggy! That's Oggy. A dirty hobo!"
I also slept in the forest on the weekends. It seemed organic. I didn't think other people were phony by getting drunk or smoking pot but I felt I would be phony if I joined them. The lesson Distant Thunder taught me was that if you are completely out of touch with your society then the only place for you is the woods. Also, once you leave, don't come back. Just stay out there. When you turn your back on society then society will turn its back on you. That's the rule. The movie did not, however, teach me how to gather ferns and sell them to local florists to make money. I tried that in Santa Cruz and was almost arrested.

It's not every day you get to walk the tracks in New England.

Laconia has a small downtown area. Not many tall buildings to speak of. There is a Lowe's and a Shaws on the way in from the east. Many nursing homes and old people playing bingo. There is a Family Dollar nearby. I have started a series like Lake Wobegon called "Where The Lake Meets The River." I want a kind of fake history of Riverbank Rooms. Like, what is that horrible stench in my room? The story behind that must be funny. The series be just about the rooms or about Laconia in general. I don't know. It might be a musical also.

Oggy is helping people live better lives

* Thermal Ablation Device
* Polypectomy Forceps
* Bipolar RF Ablation Device
* Implantable Pacing Leads
* High Flow Micro Infusion Catheter
* Esophageal Dilator Development
* Laparoscopic Anti-Adhesive Sprayer
* Laparoscopic Vesico-Urethral Anastomosis Device
* Aortic Cutter Improvement Program
* Colonoscope Guidewire


Accellent has the capacity to execute the most aggressive product cycles, the tightest deadlines and the most ambitious product transfers. From design to manufacturing to final delivery, Accellent's broad offering allows you to focus on what you do best. You innovate, we solve. You create, we execute. You invest, we generate ROI. That's the Accellent Advantage.


There are more buzzwords in that one paragraph than I have ever seen. Execute, aggressive, ambitious, focus, ROI (return on investment). Wow! How do I get a job? There is no guarantee I'll get this job. Yes, they need assemblers but they don't need any loose cannons. Is Oggy a loose cannon? Yes. When his van was built back in 1969 they still called cancer "consumption". There were no endoscopy forceps the size of a knitting needle that fixed valves in your heart. There were no robot surgeries. But Oggy drives the van of the past...not the future. And that would indicate he isn't a team player. When there are so many crappy Japanese cars to buy why would he choose to drive a 40 year old van? They don't need to answer the question since just asking it is enough to disqualify me.
I was asked, "Why do you want to work at Accellent?"
That I managed to stifle a laugh and provide an answer is proof I haven't completely lost the ability to conform. Hell, I even shaved and wore a nice shirt and shook her hand. I was a regular blue collar criminal.

The clean room was something out of Star Trek. This is where those surgical tools are assembled. Some parts are manufactured here. Some are ordered. What comes out of the plant ends up in hospitals around the world. Next time you are whining about how much it costs to get a stent in one of your arteries you should come take a look at how much technology was required to make the tools used to put it there. It's humbling.
You'd think they can pay more than $9 to someone responsible for assembling implantable pacing leads but that's the amount that you get from the temp agency. Accellent actually pays around $30/hr for your services. $10 to you and $20 to the temp agency for dealing with the paperwork. That's the indignity of the temp world. Anyone can look at my check and say I'm a step above McDonalds. But the actual job I'm doing is worth much more, but it's split in so many ways that I don't get more than a third of the money. This reality does no good in the supermarket checkout line. When it comes to the on sale day old chicken and the fresh chicken we all know which one I grab.

In other news a rancid stench has permeated my room at the Riverside halfway house. I don't know if it came from my boxes of old clothes or if I didn't notice it before. The bed is so disgusting that I would be surprised if it didn't stink. Fortunately, one of my housemates works at McDonalds and steals the air freshener cannisters for our bathroom. I used some in my room and now it smells like a McDonalds bathroom...mixed with a rat corpse. If they uncovered dead bodies in the floorboard I would only ask "How many?"
George Carlin once said that there is a phenomenon when you walk into a gross hotel room and it immediately is offensive. But if you sit down on he bed, look out the window and take your shoes off then you can't smell it anymore. You get used to it. That has worked out to be true. I'm only disgusted when I walk in the door. After that I can't smell it. Pretty soon I'm asleep.

I'm glad I'll be helping other people live better lives. That's just fucking great.

Riverbank Rooms

Caveat: I hesitate to write about people someone might recognize later. Just trust me that the only reason I don't crucify everyone I come into contact with is because I am being polite. If you consider yourself above my new housemates then take a good look in the mirror. If you want your nose to stay in the same location you will not peak ill of my friends. With that in mind, enjoy!

Within the first five minutes of signing my rental agreement at Riverside Rooms I was reading a book called “Chicken Soup for the Prisoner’s Soul”. Really, I was just looking at it to distract me from the conversation going on in front of me,

Nancy: They called Missy the crack whore of Laconia. She was out on the street swinging a baseball bat.
Missy: I only beat that man because he choked me.
Nancy: Haw!
Missy: In court he accused me of fucking his parole officer, stealing from him, smoking crack. None of that was true.
Nancy: Haw!
Missy: On the way out of court I looked at his parole officer and said ‘I wouldn’t mind fucking you, precious.’
Nancy: Haw!

I couldn’t pay attention to the book I was looking at but the very fact there is a chicken soup edition targeting prison inmates, and that edition was in the give-and-take library at Riverside Rooms, disturbed me. This wasn’t prison but I suspected most of the residents would know the difference. A woman, Alice, walked in. She had a dozen impressive tattoos on her arms and a “Laconia Bike Week” t shirt.

Alice: I don’t mind sharing my shit. Just put it back. And I don’t mind sharing my food.
Oggy: That’s awful considerate of you.
Alice: I work the 3am shift, so don’t party all night.
Oggy: Where? I’m looking for work.
Alice: McDonalds. You get free food but I get sick when I eat there. I like to cook. I can ask my manager if they got an opening.

I said nothing as Alice tossed a flank steak into a bed of onions.

Alice: Who stole my measuring cup? Nancy, did you pawn that off for crack?
Nancy: Haw!
Missy: I got it.
Alice: Oggy, you in 26?
Oggy: Yes.
Alice: That was Doug’s room. He’s in jail now.
Missy: Doug’s an idiot. I told him to stay clean.
Nancy: Haw!
Alice: They got him. That’s it. You like steak, Oggy?
Oggy: Yeah. I eat anything.

When Missy’s back is turned (she’s the house manager) Alice smokes a ghost joint with her fingers to her lips and raises her eyebrows. I shrug and make a non-committal expression. Alice nods and flips the steak. I turn to go. I almost get out the door when Missy says something about her peptic ulcer. I feel obliged to show some sympathy but the truth is that I’m not feeling too good myself. As I nod slowly I examine the door keys Missy has just given me in exchange for $167. The keychain has a blue plastic tag attached. At first I thought it was a bank gift or an airline souvenir. Upon closer examination I read “Clean & Serene For Six Months” The other side says “NA”.

Now, this is the first time I have really been in the house and this is my first introduction to the residents and it seems completely custoMissy to hand out front door keys attached to a Narcotics Anonymous keychain. You don’t get one of those keychains because you smoked a little pot back in high school. No, you’ve got to get married to crack or cocaine or heroin or meth and then petition for a divorce. But crystal meth doesn’t recognize divorce petitions like the Vatican doesn’t recognize gay marriages. So you go to NA, a counselor between you and the meth.
You say to the meth, “I really don’t think this is working out.”
And the meth says, “That’s because you’re trying to break us up. You’re nothing without me.”
And you believe the meth because abstaining is actually causing more problems than using.
The meth continues, “Now go back home and do a line. You’ll feel so much better.” And the meth is telling the truth and is, honestly, an authority on feeling better, so why shouldn’t you do as you’re told? Furthermore, the meth is the only one who seems to care how you feel while everyone else just wants you to do things that are so boring. Although, there is that court ordered drug counseling to consider…
“Fuck the court!” Says the meth. “Where were they when you needed them? They aren’t your friend. I’m your friend.”
Again, the meth is right. The court wasn’t there when you needed them but was like Batman and Robin when you just wanted to be left alone. Why should you listen to them?
That’s where NA comes in and tells you that you are powerless over meth, which is true, and that by surrendering yourself to your higher power you stand a chance of getting the divorce you want. After a six month separation you receive this keychain as a statement of your accomplishment and also as a reminder that meth is waiting for you a few blocks away and would be happy to reunite. Every time you enter Riverside Rooms you see that keychain and remember that the divorce is final.

This keychain speaks volumes about my new home because first, it belonged to someone who lived here and second because they didn’t take it off. There is no room for pleasantries. The world ain’t perfect. We are all in survival mode now and the days of matching sheets are over. Everyone is in agreement: this is the house where you come to terms with your limitations.

As Missy said to me moments earlier,

Missy: My biological mother is dying. Know what I told her?
Oggy: What?
Missy: I hope you get to heaven. That’s it. 18 foster homes in 16 years and she wants me to care? No.

This is the house where you finally write off your estranged son, your ex wife or your biological mother. If you haven’t quit smoking by the time you get here then you ain’t ever going to quit smoking. End of story. You’ll die a smoking fool. Whatever loose ends you drag into this house are going to stay loose ends and it is just better to let them go. You want to get back the figure you had in 1998? You won’t. Fuck it. Smoke some pot. Work at a valve factory. Sleep when you can. The dream is over. Eat a cold tv dinner. Living is for the young and you, my friend, are not young. The only thing you can do is stay warm until your peptic ulcer ruptures. You’ve been miserable, no doubt, for years before you end up here. But opening your crooked door and sitting down on your sagging mattress finally allows you to be ok with your misery. Now it is justified. Look around you; you should be miserable. There will be no prince with your slipper, no high school sweetheart with a promise ring, no returning soldier to take you away. What is gone is lost forever and what you have is right in front of your eyes. There will be no estate sales when you die. Your personal effects will go straight to the Goodwill donation bin in trash bags.

Before you arrived you would look in the mirror and do a dozen things to fix your sad reflection. But you don’t do that at Riverside Rooms. You just look in the mirror to make sure you don’t have any blood on your chin.

Oggy: I gotta get some boxes.
Missy: Ok, babe. You let me know if you need anything.
Alice: And don’t piss on the toilet seat.
Nancy: Haw!

what do you really want to do with your life?

sooner or later we all come to the closed down memorial bridge that represents our fucked up rusty life...
You can walk down lane A, walk down lane B or just jump over the side and see what happens.





I've spent more time in the last month looking at career paths then I ever did in my entire life. and it is just hard to decide one path over another. I think I can do all of them but I suspect that isn't true. I decided to go to HSU for music because I felt my whole life was in front of me and there would be time to do everything and what I felt was missing most was an understanding of music. I played the guitar and had no idea what I was doing but I knew that once I figured it out then I would blaze away. So in 6 years I got a 4 year degree in music. I see now that although that was necessary for me to understand new things fast (ha!) and to demonstrate how serious I was...I think about one semester or two of theory and musicianship would have been ok. I didn't need to analyze Stravinsky or Bartok concertos. And after it was over one thing led to another and one interest led to another and now I'm back to where I started like 10 years ago looking for a career path. I don't feel anything is really missing from my life like I did with music. I've learned a little and think I don't need a two year degree in advanced auto mechanics. I can just take a few classes...or maybe just rescue an old truck or motorcycle and learn everything I want to know. So that's an easy dream to rearrange.
Now the thing that has caught my attention in the last two years is solar electricity. alternative forms of energy. I meant to track down a solar guru living in Niland on the slab city. but it didn't happen. So I wanted to take a class on solar energy. and then there is this program at a NH community college...energy services and technology...that includes conservation and solar and electronics and is way more dynamic than fixing brakes and carbuerators...AND has career opportunities (energy conservation manager, Energy Guru) that look to be the way of the future.
I don't want to lose my identity as a gypsy and iconoclast and guitar playing motorcycle mechanic but this energy services program looks like it could be a path that works. I just wonder what people do when they decide on one path over another. And I wonder if you have found that. There is always time to do something, but there isn't time to do everything. It's agony that I can't take a beading class AND an Indian Cooking class. It's so unfair. Who makes the rules about the time we have alloted to us. Isn't there some kind of application I can fill out that will waive the time requirements on my life? It would be so easy. Just stop the clock and let me do all these things. I don't see the problem with that.
what do you think?