Hobo Jungle

[Tramp]

Anyone around tonight? It makes me sad, but I fear everyone is going to retreat back to the OGR forum. I guess people like to be told what to do. They feel safer. Makes me want to throw in the towel on train forums.

[Forum Moderator]

Tramp:

I posted this on another thread and will post it again here, just in case you didn't see it:

Aw Tramp, don't feel so bad. You don't need a cure. What you need is to continue to partake in the free and open exchange of ideas and opinions that our unaffiliated forum provides.

And don't throw in the towel on any forum. Continue to visit them all and get what information and enjoyment you can get.

Bill

[Dr. John]

Tramp,

I've been around but have not posted as much lately. I haven't had anything constructive train-wise to introduce and I'm bored with the forum wars. I made the mistake of mentioning that I felt that the OGR stuff was old news and was politely told I didn't have to read it. Fair enough, I'll stay out of those discussions - I'm not advocating censoring those threads.

Honestly, there haven't been too many new train related topics recently. I've been reading and posting some on the CTT forum and will continue to read and post here. I also think spring and summer will take folks away temporarily for other activities and interests.

Hang in there!

[Bindle Stiff]

Tramp,

Hang in there Bro. This har forum iz much more fren'ly an' I is har ta stay!

I wish I had the recipe fer thet Idyhoo Gol" (TM) an' everthin' wud be finer' frog har.

Ya don' s'pose Petey er Willie wud haf it?

I'z relagated ta drinkin' Morgun David whine an' soggy ceegars an' when I don' haf them I'z jus' wastin' time.

Stiff

PS: Them shore is sum fine poms ya rote Tramp! I 'preecheate um lots!

[Tramp]

"Juss when you think you're all alone, and nobody--" Tramp turns. He can't say anything more. Something got in his throat, and it weren't beer. "Thanks, fellurs. I ain't used ta kind words." He pounds his fist into his hand. "Now where's that Dufus? We need a new mix. Season's changed, and there ain't been no Gold[TM] now fur weeks. Fellur gets married and his pals suffer. Ain't that the way."

[Will]

Ahm here. Warever ya make camp, Trampy, that's whar I'll come, an Petey I'm sure as well. Don mean I won't dabble in the other ponds, but ahm a fella a' many hats ya know.

Naw sheddup and pour, ya ole fool!

[San Diegan]

Well, Trampy. Dufus passed on all of his recipes in an Indian brother handshake and I have a new batch of SpringTime Gold (TM) destilled in this here propane tank. The tap is open and you can fill your glass anytime. I have to work up to Dufus' flavor and barside manner, but I promise the alcohol yield is very competitive.

That poetry comes from the soul and I appreciate it. The camp is here now. May it live on until we follow an old hobo to the horizon and attain it.

San

[Jackie Blue]

Tramp, you can't keep them here if they want to leave. It's a hobo's life. You come into this world alone and you leave it alone. Along the way, you get to share yourself with others, and they with you. And that's what we're doing here.

We've witnessed some jungles destroyed for some idiotic reasons. Not enough band what? Then those that were responsible come along and say that they didn't mean it. Hard to swallow when a thread along side it is just as trafficked and never touched by the iron fist. Makes you think they don't like our types.

Seems to me that they just don't understand a simple philosophy - that you can't beat someone up and then expect them to say "I love you." A dog NEVER forgets getting kicked.

This place here, seems to have its act together and has made us welcome. So, I'm staying put...at least until I get hungry, thirsty, or the wanderlust hits again.

[Tramp]

Shorty, your pictures always help. Thanks. That yellow bush with those shadows are a poem by themselves. When you can make a brick wall exciting, you know what you're doing.

Wow! I get grumpy, just once (I don't drink on Mondays), and . . . At least it got everyone posting. I thought the hobos had left the fire. I don't read any other forums, so I just assumed everyone was back at the other. According to Jackie, I guess I'm the only dog. Well . . . but I won't write that.

[Tramp]

Okay. The motel. Looks great on a model layout by the tracks. Dennis, I expect you to build one and photograph it by Christmas.

MOTELS

I dream of the perfect motel,
Without the perverted oily clerks,
Without the stale air of a thousand
Failed nights, without those leprous
Carpets, without the chipped plastic
Veneer furniture, without the grey
brittle sheets, the lumpy pillows,
The wrapped cups, the limits on
Ice, the clown prints, the
Flickering neon signs,
Without the damn
Sadness.
I want to f**k in the perfect motel.
I want to pull in drunk, driving a
Finned convertible, or she could be
Driving, just so the car bobs hard
As it enters the motor court.
And in the office I want to be
Greeted by a smiling Forties-style blonde
Who will hand me my key and tell me to
Pay later. "Take as much ice as you
Want, fill your cooler, ice your beer
Good, OK," she'll wink.
And the room will be fragrant
And the carpet like a massage
And the cups tall and glass
And the sheets white cotton
And the TV will play all
Bogart and Bacall, just
The great scenes, and
My baby will come into
My arms hard and
We'll f**k.

[P&R Pete]

Pére Hobo, ya ol' geezer. The gang's all here, but everyone's gotta sit back and take stock once in a while. But the Jungle, man, the Jungle will always be.
Came across this last night, workin' on a crossword.
Might not even be that good, dang if I can tell, I ain't no poet, but it seems to fit the mood yer in.
________________________
The Little Clock

Half-past-four and the first bird waking,
Falling on my heart like a thin green leaf.
If you are alive, your heart is breaking,
If you are dead, you are done with grief.

Half-past-five and the birds singing sweetly,
World washed silver with the rain and the wind.
If you are a saint, you have lived discreetly,
If you are a sinner, you have surely sinned.

Half-past-seven and the birds singing madly;
Sun flames up in the sky like a lark,
If there are things to remember sadly,
Wait and remember them after dark.

__________________________E. Wylie

(That line 8 sure describes a hobo, hain't?)

[Tramp]

Shorty, do you see how the poem is in the shape of a motel sign, but also reminds one of a woman's curves? The sign is the the key. Some of those motel signs were simply stunning. Imagine driving down those lonely wet roads to watch them materialize out of darkness.

[Daisy]

Tramp. Let's go. Impala, Spring. Let's just go.

[Tramp]

Daisy:

What year Impala?

Where?

Spring?

Sprung?

Fishing?

Lure?

Bait?

Catch and Release?

Eat?

[woodsytc]

i'ma thinking she's talking about goin' to sse them 'ol submarine races they used to have down near that... um... rez-eevwaar.(resevior)

izzat it?