Don't Sleep in The Subway

Shortly after I recorded this video the emergency alarms went off in the music building and the entire place was evacuated. I asked those in the stairway if it happens often or if someone was shooting random victims from the bell tower. We plunged into the street not knowing what would happen next. I feel like all of this is giving shuffleboard lessons on board the Titanic. But a part of me thinks that is exactly what life is, a kid comes to you with a splinter on a boat that is sinking...what do you do? You take the splinter out. You teach shuffleboard. You sing gospel songs or Pet Clark tunes. Then the ship sinks. It makes no difference. You can't be like Whitman and think you are going to go on a rampage of mercy and take everyone out of their misery. Fuck it. The boat will sink eventually. Go learn to juggle oranges. I'm gonna go eat tacos and jarritos and watch the fireworks that are really emergency flares.

Gospel Hour

Beside the still waters is not a song I remember from the rescue mission but it's one that sounds good to my ear today.

I shouldn't wallow in the tragedies of the past but these landmarks were on my way to the music practice rooms.

UT bell tower

Memorial Plaque

Memorial Pond

There is a hymn for every life event.

Beside The Still Waters:
Beside the still waters in pastures of green,
The Shepherd is leading where all is serene;
By day and by night He will always be seen
Beside the still waters of peace.
For He's the Good Shepherd who died for the sheep;
His own He has promised to keep.
He lovingly watches and guards while they sleep
Beside the still waters of peace.

Beside the still waters the sheep find their rest;
The Shepherd stands by so that none can molest;
The flock, by His presence, is happy and blest
Beside the still waters of peace
The sheep know His voice and they go not astray,
For Jesus will guide all the way.
In paths that are righteous He leads day by day
Beside the still waters of peace.

Roasted Oggy

Past and future.

I won't be sending this pic to my mom. Notice the fan!

Self Destruction

The job hunt has brought me to the lip of deadly contradiction. The same electro-mechanical manufacturer that supplies the wind turbine and solar industries also supplies the Military. It's like Philosophy was intentionally disposed of when George Washington divested himself from England. The Hoax that I'm pondering lately is related to America and what it stands for. If we repeat that this is the land of peace freedom and justice enough then maybe we'll forget that you'd be safer, more free, and better represented in Iceland. I read the upsetting tale of Anthony Graves yesterday and it really chilled my heart.

Breakdown Dead Ahead

Heat Index: An index that combines air temperature and relative humidity in an attempt to determine the human-perceived equivalent temperature.

 

Yesterday was a record 109 and it felt like 275. I had to take the key out of the van with a glove on my hand. Horrendous heat that made me feel like a lizard who had been run over in the street. I wanted to chop my own head off to cool my face in my blood.

Today it is a mere 104 and it feels like it is 113 degrees and I'm not sure that is even accurate as it doesn't take into account the radiation from the asphalt. Indescribable heat. Withering. I'm falling asleep in the library from abuse. Exhaustion has set in and only a visit from the police is missing before I sag into a collapse. But they have air conditioning at the mental institution so I'm not worried. It's like the cold in Alaska when my jeans actually froze and cracked because they had some sweat in the fabric. At that temp any moisture in the air becomes ice, ice fog they call it, and when you breath it you involuntarily cough because your lungs reject the frozen air. So people wear masks or grow beards that filter the moisture. Then your beard grows icicles that freeze together and you can't open your mouth. All within 2 minutes and it's amazing how quickly your brain becomes single purposed on survival. That is the kind of heat I'm dealing with here, the kind of heat that leads me to a parking lot where I'm pouring hose water over my body totally oblivious to the lines of children waiting to take their driving school lessons. A man doesn't think clearly in this kind of heat but I'm thinking clearly enough to have quit any manual labor for the rest of the summer. I'll slice chicken breasts with scissors on an industrial killing line before I lug boxes of nails to the attic of a $20 million renovation. I'm a pussy because this is Texas and the foremen and contractors don't hesitate to do what it takes to get the job done. Deadlines loom and they would do everything themselves if they had time. They don't hire you as a slave or to do work they can't or wouldn't do. No, they merely need help doing too many jobs. The heat isn't even a factor to a contractor on a $20 million gig. Steel beams could melt and sag and they would merely order more. They are not wimps. I am the wimp and I surrender before the war is lost. I'll fight another day but not for $6 an hour sweating blood onto concrete.