Hobo Jungle
For 12 years I lived in the city where those trains were stolen. I was burglarized many times. I saw one guy stealing my car stereo, called the cops, tacked the basterd and held him down for 15 minutes. It's not easy making conversation with a skinny drooling moron clutching your ruined Alpine. He received a 45 dollars fine. Nothing else. There's no way the Ex didn't know the trains and wine wouldn't be nipped. The city is a complete hell hole. Even the cops sell drugs. I had three people in my neighborhood die violent deaths in two years. I slept with a baseball bat beside my bed.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
A Jimmy Hakken poem.
OBJECTS
When you open a beer bottle
with the right opener
it makes a sound
like a bullet loaded
into the breech of a rifle.
And in some ways
there is truth in this,
depending on who uses it.
The gun or the beer.
When stakes get high in life
most people, they stiffen,
it's called a choke.
Objects seem straightforward.
A can of beer
A car key
A bullet
Boots
I prefer beer in cans,
I drive a 1965 Chevrolet,
I wear boots with steel toes,
I don't give a damn
how fast they run.
And I don't like bullets,
don't have any use for them,
I still like to do things
with my hands.
Jimmy read it over a few times. It didn’t rhyme, but it still sounded pretty good, though he supposed some of it didn’t make complete sense. But wasn’t that what poetry was all about? He wanted to show it to Claire, see what she thought. She hadn’t called him and he wished she would. He didn’t want to have to call first. But what was he going to do about Claire? What had seemed clear last night had evaporated by morning. And now he had daddy Cloutier trying to freeze him out. He needed to protect himself. He went to the closet and hauled out the suitcase, grabbed a couple garbage bags in the kitchen; there had to be a shovel in the carriage barn.
End of Jimmy quote. These days? This, since I'm not Jimmy Hakken:
OBJECTS
When you open a beer bottle
with the right opener
it makes a sound
like a bullet loaded
into the breech of a rifle.
And in some ways
there is truth in this,
depending on who uses it.
The gun or the beer.
When stakes get high in life
most people, they stiffen,
it's called a choke.
Objects seem straightforward.
A can of beer
A car key
A bullet
Boots
I prefer beer in cans,
I drive a 1965 Chevrolet,
I wear boots with steel toes,
I don't give a damn
how fast they run.
And I don't like bullets,
don't have any use for them,
I still like to do things
with my hands.
Jimmy read it over a few times. It didn’t rhyme, but it still sounded pretty good, though he supposed some of it didn’t make complete sense. But wasn’t that what poetry was all about? He wanted to show it to Claire, see what she thought. She hadn’t called him and he wished she would. He didn’t want to have to call first. But what was he going to do about Claire? What had seemed clear last night had evaporated by morning. And now he had daddy Cloutier trying to freeze him out. He needed to protect himself. He went to the closet and hauled out the suitcase, grabbed a couple garbage bags in the kitchen; there had to be a shovel in the carriage barn.
End of Jimmy quote. These days? This, since I'm not Jimmy Hakken:
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
I can remember even into the late 70's bar fights and typical disputes were always settled with fists. Most times it ended with the winner bringing the loser of the match back into the bar for a beer. Everything changed in the 80's. The punks with guns needed to level the playing field. Sure I think settling an arguement with a good old fashioned *** whippin' is the best, but I'm not dumb enough to bring a knife to a gunfight anymore either.
Beer #4 with beautiful thunderstorms rolling through dropping much needed buckets of cool rain. We'll pay for it tomorrow with high humidity, but for now I'm savoring the moment.
Beer #4 with beautiful thunderstorms rolling through dropping much needed buckets of cool rain. We'll pay for it tomorrow with high humidity, but for now I'm savoring the moment.
Running that red block Charlie.
I like that engine. I won't comment on Scott and his Boneyard.
Last edited by Tramp on Fri Jul 06, 2007 9:30 am, edited 1 time in total.
That a life will be spent gaining inches,
When this distance is read in miles.
When this distance is read in miles.
-
bob turner
- Posts: 13630
- Joined: Sat Jan 13, 2007 7:57 pm
Those are gorgeous models. Had one here for a while; it ran like the wind with a trio of P70s behind it. One caution - the Chinese used really thick paint on the mechanism; if you ever have to take it apart, you will need something a bit stronger than liquid wrench. We use "Mouse Milk" on aircraft parts; it seems to do wonders to frozen spark plugs.
Hey Jon....................Damn that was one hell of a deal there Bro............................... 
BTW...................I like your Mickey Mouse Hat. Do you wear that when ya go to bed Bro...........................................
hev
BTW...................I like your Mickey Mouse Hat. Do you wear that when ya go to bed Bro...........................................
hev
If you want to find history, follow the train man..................
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