Tag Archives: friends

Skipping Town


Now, where was I? On August twelfth, 2014, my life began to change (FOREVER, DUN DUN DUN) for real this time. Having cleared everything up with the landlord – and having vouched for a good room mate who could watch the house while I was gone – all there was left to do was wait for my girlfriend to get into town. Of course, there were still things to be done around the house – plumbing, electric, rodent extermination, and mattress burning – but that could all wait a couple of days.

She arrived that day, with a troupe of dirty, dog-toting, fiendishly smelly and good looking kids who did not hesitate to inhabit the house. Ten fucking lovely travelers and nine dogs later, we still hadn’t seen the end of the adventure. For a week, our house TRULY transformed into a punk house, despite several layers of paint saying otherwise. Every dirty kid and his mom showed up at least briefly to drink warm beer, smoke cheap cigarettes, experiment with psychedelics, and have a safe place to crash.

The smell in the house transformed from ‘fresh paint’ to ‘dirty underoos’ in about a day and a half, but no one was complaining. These dirty kids sure knew how to drink and they were a wonder to be seen pass-out drunk over a plate of burrito fixings in the kitchen at three in the morning. On top of the competitive drinking, they were actually helpful in fixing up the remainder of the house. With gasoline, hatchets, and matches as equipment, many of us gathered in the back yard to burn chairs, a dirty old mattress, and a couch. The neighbors borrowed us their hose to keep it under control. Flames reached shocking heights. The evidence was disposed of.

I mean…

Next was the beehive(s). Up on the roof, bees had infiltrated the ventilation system and needed to be dealt with. The tools for this job were

– One can of Ant Raid

– One large wrench

– Five gallons of water

– A video-camera

Climbing out onto the roof in a sports bra and a pair of dirty shorts, I was the second person to approach the bee situation. Lots of pointless wrench-banging, a few beers, and, surprisingly, NO bee-stings later, I had successfully outlawed the bees.

All while my drunk girlfriend laughed from the yard below. It was a good time in that final week of the house. Video games were played, work was done, songs were sung, signs were flown, tits were shown…it was all fine and well and dandy right up until the part where we were packing and leaving, which was more sad than anything else.

Diablo and I both got our bags fully packed on August 17th. The dirty kids that had assembled had begun dispersing, and we were down to the core group of friends and travelers. The ones we had to say goodbye to as we said hello to a new lifestyle with a bunch of tramps (oh, tramp is someone who travels all homeless-like without picking up work along the way. That’s the separation between tramp and hobo).

We had our final beers, did our final house painting, and left the house for good on the morning of August eighteenth. With my dog at my side, a backpack chilling on my shoulders, and four road dogs to kick it with, I was feeling pretty okay. It was, however, a long trip to the hop out, with way too many stops along the way, and by the time we got to where we were trying to go, we had one more road dog (and his puppy), no cigarettes, and not much beer.

There started my life of traveling. Migrating under a train bridge, we waited. We learned about trains and what rides were, well, ride able. We learned the names of the train units, the train companies, and rail safety. We learned what a ‘fire drill’ was and to ALWAYS keep your shit on hand when waiting for a train. It was train-riding 101, and we were drunkenly learning the ropes.

On August nineteenth, a train going our direction stopped, and my girlfriend and I ran alongside it for a few minutes before finding a ride. We had gotten my dog and both of our packs on the train when it started airing up (the brakes of a train work on a tension system where air is what pushes the brakes UP so that the train can start moving). We knew we didn’t have much time. Tiddly (the girlfriend at the time) hurried to lift her eighty plus pound dog on the train but to no avail. The harness slipped off of her body and she dropped to the ground as the train started moving too fast to hop off. We watched Girl (the dog) run alongside the train as it sped up and then we lost sight of her.

Cue horror movie sad music, lots of crying and puking, and two VERY sad people. We wondered what the hell was going to happen to Girl and what the hell would happen to us when our other road dogs found out. There is a code for hopping trains: Dog, Pack, You. That’s the order in which you get on the train. In the rush and excitement of taking her girlfriend on her first train, Tiddly had forgotten.

Luckily, the train slowed and came to a stop in Northeast Minneapolis. As we were rolling to a stop, my phone started ringing. It was one of the people we were planning on hopping out with and he was screaming that he found Girl and that she was torn up as fuck and that we needed to get our asses off of the train.

Thinking the worst, Tiddly panicked. I started making phone calls. Twenty minutes later, my dear friend Morgan was picking us up and driving us to where all of the other kids were. Talk about friends having your back in an emergency. We approached a seemingly dire situation. Girl was laid out on the ground and everyone was sitting around her. Approaching, we found that she had been clipped by a part of the train – probably a ladder – and she had a huge gash on her side.

We did all we could. Poured hydrogen peroxide on it and then bandaged it up – it was too late at night to head to a vet. We could only hope she would be fine.

We moved to a different hop-out spot that night, went to sleep, and woke up early in the morning. After refilling our water, making sure Girl was okay, and collecting our wits, we started waiting on trains again. The day was August Twentieth, and it was about two pm when our train finally rolled in.

A big, hulking, mass of steel and energy, the Inter-modal Train that rolled to a stop right in front of us was a beauty. Carted by Burlington Northern Santa Fe (BNSF), this massive cargo hold was our land-ship, and we did not hesitate to take our chances with her.

We found a ride where all of us fit and could stay hidden and then the train took off, only to slow down and roll to a stop directly in the middle of the train yard. For two hours, we waited. Voices hushed, fingers quietly rolling cigarettes that we couldn’t smoke, we all sat in tension, hoping that we wouldn’t get pulled off of our ride. Voices approached and footsteps sounded against ballast rocks, but no one came, and finally – FINALLY – we were on our way.

We were heading west, into a metaphorical sunset. Embarking on a journey that could result in our doom. In train riding culture, ‘catching the westbound’ is a term for dying, and I do not deny the fact that there, on my first freight train, parts of me were heading west for good.

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Pulling Everything Together


So there I was. With a week to impress a very disappointed landlord. I had almost no resources and I reached out to my group of friends who had experienced the HoG on the same level I had. Immediately, I had responses. An overflow of them, actually. Paint, tools, cleaning parties, I had everything I needed. Diablo spent the last of his budget on some paint that would cover stains (particularly sharpie) and I got to work. We cleared out the living room and started cleaning up the beer cans.

My dear friend Liza came over with her camera and photographed a few things before we totally started fixing it up. Liza is a photographer, videographer, model, poet, and a whole bunch of other things, too. She is one of the most lovely human beings that I know and I’m sure there will be a blog post dedicated to her at some point.

Four hours of cleaning and scrubbing later, all of the furniture was either in the kitchen or on the lawn and I had begun painting over the words and images that had helped define all of us over the course of two months.It was arduous – and heartbreaking. It was the first real symbol of us having to move on from the house. Of course, part of me had been waiting for this for weeks, and the other part of me was scared and never wanted it to end.

We managed to get enough paint to re-vamp the entire house, and I started, well, re-vamping. I planned a cleaning party and had a decent turn-out. With the help of twenty people, we got the first coat of actual white paint on the living room walls. We got the lawn mowed and the beehives on the roof taken care of and the old mattress and couches burned.

The next day, Docken (the other room mate) and our mutual friend Khiara did some hardcore cleaning. I turned the trash room into a porch. The lawn was fixed, the trash room was gone, and I had painted some nice color on the living room, effectively finishing that project. In a week, we took down the entire downstairs and outside.

Weeds trimmed, flowerbeds weeded, trash hauled away, and a fresh coat of paint on all of the walls except for the bathroom, which would get taken care of later. The gutters were spotless, and so I guess we weren’t quite ‘gutter punks’ anymore, unless you count the person who actually climbed around on the roof like a drunken monkey getting all of the punk out of the gutter.

We even scouted the neighborhood and discovered a beautiful sofa, recliner, and desk that were in almost perfect condition to move into the freshly painted house. We carried these items a few blocks and successfully moved them in that night. The living room looked like something out of a country living magazine – as long as you disregarded the still-tarnished floor.

The landlord arrived the next Tuesday. Despite the fact that there was still large amounts of work to do on the house, we got the reaction we were looking for. Her eyes lit up the second she stepped out of her car. Of course, it wasn’t perfect. It will take a couple of years for the lawn to totally regrow and the integrity of the roof after supporting so many bodies will never be quite the same.

She entered the living room and almost gasped. Her joy at the changes showed clearly on her face as she toured the lower half of the house. No more trash room. No more stink of beer and adolescence. A well thought-out color scheme. Semi-gloss paint instead of matte in the kitchen for easier cleaning and less gruesome grease stains. Turning the corner to head upstairs, I had to stop her. I informed her that a week is a very small amount of time to get anything done, and the only fixing that had been done on the upstairs was a quick cleanup job. The walls leading up the stairs had a fresh coat of light green paint and we were busy getting the right parts to re-install the banisters (definitely a story to tell later).

It was coming along, but there’s only so much you can do. She nodded and expressed her approval of what had been done, giving us more time to keep fixing the house. The end of July was coming up, though, and I had received news from my girlfriend that she and her faithful troupe of road dogs were heading north from Iowa. Soon, it would be time for me to leave.

Funny how, in theory, packing a bag and walking out a door is easier than fixing an entire house.

The Park Gathering and the Constant 90’s Vibes


Last night I just wanted to have fun. To go out with my friends. So, much like Simple Plan, I did something about it. I did not, however, steal a car and crash it. What I did do was message my friend Isley (the actual love of my life) and tell her we should make like 90’s kids and hang around in the park after dark.

Which is exactly what we did. The street lamps flickered over the old park equipment and water fountains. From the distance, someone could be heard strumming a guitar as dogs barked. A group of five people sat in the sand of the playground, thinking they were a really great punk rock band but really just being a group of people who were getting eaten by mosquitos.

Of course, everyone was cute. How can you be a 90’s TV Show Protagonist Group without being hella cute? We sat on the swings, we made music with a guitar, a ukulele, and a harmonica, and we talked about things that probably won’t be relevant at all by 2020. 

We stayed out until two in the morning and then walked home. Isley and I both got home safely on our block, but barely for Isley, who got to her house just in time to see someone get jumped right by her. I feel lucky she’s alright and that our hugs last for a long time, otherwise she wouldn’t be.

Overall, it was a beautiful night with a small group of lovely people that I feel so blessed to have as friends. And we all live in the 90’s despite it being 2014.

Today is a day of goodbyes. I am packing up my room and washing clothes in preparation for the official move-out on Sunday. I have two nights left here. How insane is that? This month has been so topsy-turvy up and down that I don’t even know what to think. In one month, I got to say hello and goodbye to my first house away from my parents, to the garden I planted, to the people on my block.

I kiss goodbye to my old blanket, which is finally seeing the end of its days after at least six years of keeping me warm. Covered in sharpie and holes, she doesn’t do her job anymore, and she smells like bum sweat, but I will miss her. I say goodbye to my books and my futon, to my fedora collection and most of my shoes. I say goodbye for now to my art, my letters of accomplishment, and my fish.

Yes, my friends, it will be a bittersweet weekend indeed, but I take solace in the fact that I tried my hardest and sometimes your hardest just isn’t good enough. Onward I move to dirtier and grungier things…but you’ll get the whole speech when its truly time.

For now, I must continue throwing the material objects of my life away. As always, I wish all of you the very best.

Merry Christmas to All and To All a Good…Morning?


Yes, I do realize that it is four thirty in the morning on Christmas, and it’s even more of a shame that I’m not even up this early for the presents…which I have none of. Here’s the deal. I can’t tell if I’ve actually been slacking on you guys or just feeling guilty, so my sheer confusion over the subject woke me up so early on this fine morning and forced me to post a blog.

Or at least, that’s the story I’m going to tell you to make you feel more loved.

A lot has been going on in my life, but we have no time for such little things, so we’ll just do a quick overview and then get down to the actual topic of the day, which I have, in fact, been pretty sketchy on of late.

My week in thirty words or less: Parties, End of the World, Bowling, Weddings, Sleeping, Eating, Cleaning, Holidays, Presents, No Girlfriend, No Snuggles, Sadness, Insomnia, Butts, Old Friends, More Bowling, Spanish Stress, End of Semester, Movies.

TWENTY-NINE WORDS AND I HAVE PERFECTLY SUMMED UP MY LAST TWO WEEKS, HUZZAH!

Moving on, the topic of the day is…

Inappropriate Ways To Spread Holiday Cheer.

1. The ‘Every Holiday is Christmas’. This, my dear friends, is a serious problem. Here are the steps of pulling off this spreading of holiday cheer.

  • Hang your Christmas lights two weeks before Halloween
  • Instead of using appropriate ‘Happy Holidays’ cards, send out your Holiday cards with a little style. Use phrases such as: ‘Christmas is the only Holiday Jesus Died for’, “You’re a sinner if you don’t believe in Santa’, and ‘If you don’t believe in the spirit of Christmas, you must worship the Devil.’ This is sure to put your friends and relatives in a joyous holiday mood that will cause your entire tri-state area to become just a little brighter as they storm the streets and set fire to everything you love.
  • Simply state that Holidays such as Hanukkah are wrong and terrible and try to get everyone to buy a Christmas tree instead.

2. The ‘Remember that Jesus Died for Your Sins so Donate to this Local Charity’. This one really throws me off. There are people that take their time to sit outside stores in the freezing cold to ask for donations out of the good of their heart. However, as if it wasn’t already enough that they’re making you feel bad for being better people than they are, they also give you a horrible glare if you pass by without dropping a few coins into their collection buckets.

3.  The ‘All I Want for Christmas is You…and a Sports Car.’ Something that really bugs the shit out of me during the holiday season is that we have devoted it more to the giving and receiving of presents rather than the opportunity to spend time with our friends and family. It has gotten to a point where you are almost forced to feel like a bad person if you haven’t purchased a gift for the people you care about, regardless of the fact that you could be one short paycheck away from living on the streets. Can we please just accept the fact that it’s a beautiful thing just to get to spend time with the people we love and not be so obsessed with what we get out of the experience?

4. The ‘Let’s Christmas Carol Every Night for a Week’. Oh my Gooooddddddd. We get it. You’re here to spread holiday cheer. That doesn’t mean I need to be plugging my headphones into my TV and blasting the sound just so that I can hear the Packer game over your incessant noise. Yes, we love the fact that you get joy out of going out into the cold and singing songs to cheer up the neighborhood, but come on. Luckily for one Telea, there aren’t really carolers where she lives, and she’s just complaining.

The ‘My Decorations are More Extravagant Than Yours.’ Remind me of how much I don’t care. My Holiday Decorations may consist of a plastic bag tied to a pitchfork next to some burned out lights that I found in the dumpster outside Savers, it doesn’t matter. The fact that so many people go so all out to spread their holiday cheer by so completely covering their houses with lights that it appears that all of Santa’s Elves literally took three festive shits each on their yards is disgusting. Furthermore, it isn’t energy efficient, and we are burning down mountain-tops by promoting this behaviour, regardless of ‘how cool it looks’.

I’m not trying to Scrooge out your Holidays, no. I am simply stating that the holidays shouldn’t be about gifts you get, what holiday you celebrate, what things you do for Jesus or any other deity, or the amount of lights you have plastered to your porch. The Holidays are about spending time with the people that mean the most to you and eating a lot of delicious food that you worked together to make. The food part is important; don’t forget the food.

Question of the Day: How do you celebrate the Holidays and is there any tradition you or your family has that differs from traditional holiday cheer?

Love ya!

Prompt me.


Okay, so I got a little bored of the old blog topic generator, so I’m gonna try out this one today.

http://www.creativity-portal.com/prompts/imagination.prompt.html

This one happens to be a little more imagination-based, which is something that I really super legitly love in life. Now, I know readership has been down (Come on, I have a stats bar that tells me exactly what’s been going down on my blog), but I’m not even mad, bro. The realization that I have come to, is that this is actually honing my skills as a writer, which I will need in my future, as I’m going into Music as a major and Creative Writing as a minor. I hope to be a bestseller, but I would settle for a local legend.

Wait, I kind of already am a local legend. I mean, think of all the stuff I get done all the time. I have a blog that I somehow manage to keep up a little bit some of the most of the kind of the all of the time (sorta), I can do ear piercings, septum piercings, belly button piercings with great awesomeness, I write in a journal (kinda once in a while, but since my mum started reading it (that bitch), I kinda stopped), I sing, I dance, I do all the teenage stuff, and I still have a little time to hang with my family. I mean, yeah, I’ve been slacking on my youtube channel, but it’s alllll good.

Sooo, let’s move on to the topic I had generated for me. Now, since it’s incredibly fun to do, at the end of every blog, I will make a 5 point list like I have been doing. It’s fun for me, it’s generally fun for you, and YOU COULD PUT IN INPUT TOO IF YOU REALLY WANTED IF YOU SENT ME SOME MAIL ONCE IN A WHILE (poisontheperfect@gmail.com).

The question that has been generated by the god of imagination is…

If your best friend was here, what would you say?

Ohhh myy, this is gonna be a long topic with a ton of inside jokes that you won’t understand starting with just. two. words.

“Soo, liissssttteennnn.”

Now, I’ve mentioned Kresha in my blog before, and she is truly my bestest friend in the whole wide world. I feel as if I can tell her everything, and the best part is, she feels the same way about me. It’s chick love, without the lesbian sex and all that jazz. We’re the best two friends ever, and sometimes I give her a hug, pull away, and then call her Doug and then I get to give her ANOTHER best friend hug (Hangover reference).

I don’t want to sound all sappy about this on my blog where everybody who reads this doesn’t even give a chainsaw (damn, I need originality, I’m just stealing EVERYTHING!), but I’m gonna spend a couple of minutes just talking about how much I love her.

If a really fat kid who really loves chocolate cake was to have an allergy to chocolate cake and spend 20 years without it until a doctor cured them of the allergy, and then they got high and were presented with the world’s best chocolate cake, then the love that that fat kid felt for that cake would be about 1 tenth of a trillion of how much I love Kresha.

If a man with AIDS was to die a virgin but have been violating himself with the knowledge that his mother was a sweet transvestite from transexual transylvania (DAMN MY FUCKING UNORIGINALITY)…Okay, I’ve got nothing, but here’s the thing. I really fucking love Kresha, and I would give my life for hers (not to seem too creepy or anything).

Let’s do the ending topic with the 5 points now, since I have 4 minutes left to write this. Just think, I’m a free writer with deadlines. Fuck me running.

Topic Generator says…

5 cutest pickup lines?

1. Hey, my name is Telea, but you can call me later.

2. Do you have a quarter? I want to call your parents and thank them.

3. Baby, you’re sexier than socks on a rooster!

4. Oh my gosh, I’m having that dream again!

5. Okay, I guess you can kiss me later, but you CAN’T tell anybody.

Hehe, cute, right? My favorite one is the first one, but uhhh, that’s just me.

Question of the day is…

What’s your favorite or most disgusting pickup line you’ve ever heard?