Tales From The Other Side pt. 2

This story is creepy in a different way.

One beautiful spring afternoon in mid May I was doing a trash run at the main apartment complex and was approached by a tenant. He asked me if I wanted to smoke, but I declined because I'm paranoid and the situation kind of freaked me out. He said if I ever wanted to take him up on his offer to just stop by his apartment because he's always there. The next day I did. It's was pretty late in the day and I had nothing else to do, so I thought I'd be able to get away with it. We both took geebs and shot the shit for a few minutes before my supervisor called me. There was some older lady wanting some spackled over holes covered with paint. Extremely nervous, high, and red-eyed I gathered my supplies and went to the lady's apartment.

I walked in and the first thing I noticed were the walls. Every wall in the place was almost completely covered with little porcelain trinkets. At first I thought it was extremely weird but soon convinced my balls high self that it wasn't that weird, "Ya know, some people just like worthless pieces of porcelain to cover their entire wall." But then I looked up and saw the people who lived there. They weren't overly disgusting looking or anything, but they were a strange looking group of people. There were three of them and they were all sitting on a couch watching some Queen Latifah movie. On the far left was the older white lady, I'd say mid 50s to 60s, who talked to me about painting the random spots in her place, on the far right was a very old lady, I'm assuming the other lady's mother, in the middle was a young very frail looking African American male, and on his lap was a tiny dog; some kind of dirty brown Maltese looking creature. Just as I don't believe in ghosts, I am no racist, but this grouping seemed strange to me.

Anyway, the entire time I'm painting the walls the dog would not stop growling and barking at me, followed by the African American fellow quietly in an almost southern and feminine voice telling the dog to "hush now." I look up at the dog and people and nervously chuckle because in my head I just fucking know that they know that I am high as balls. My eyes more red than the devil's dick, the faint smell of piny skunky weed smoke coming off me, I look again, and not one of them, excluding the dog, are paying the slightest bit of attention to me. They were too enthralled with that fabulous Queen Latifah and all of her zany but heartwarming antics. I hurried with the painting, painting a wall faster than any wall I had painted thus far, said "have a nice day", and got the fuck out of dodge. That was my last day.

Tales from the Other Side Pt. 1

Ma halo, you guys.

It has been a while since I've last updated. Not that I even really have anything interesting to say, just thought I should put something up before I loose all interest.

Over the past couple of months I've been working as a make-ready for an apartment complex. That is until I got tired of the grind and quit the fuck out of that job. For those of you don't know, a make-ready is someone who goes into an apartment right after it is vacated and fixes, very cheaply, I might add, all the damages before the next tenant moves into said apartment. It was easy enough work, but I got another higher paying, not as stressful job offer and decided to move on. Also, I hated it.

The property management company I was working for actually owned several apartment complexes and a few houses. One of the first "assignments" they had for me was a house located somewhat close to the country club area of town kind of secluded down it's own private drive. They had recently acquired it by way of an estate sale. Meaning someone probably fucking died in the house. Didn't know that for sure at first, but what I did know, is that the house had been vacant for about two years, and apparently some critters had found their way into the attic and made themselves at home. And you could tell as soon as you opened the front door. Immediately the thick smell of errant feces would hit you in the face and at first all you can do is gag. Eventually, though, you kind of get use to it, not in an enjoying "Yeah, this isn't so bad", but more of a "Fuck, I'm going to have smell this shit for the next eight hours" kind of way. The house itself was kind of cool. Built sometime in the early 70s, it had a lot of front and back yard space with a trail going down to a pond. I'd like to describe it better, but I'm not really sure how to, and... it's just a house. So, fuck it. The main thing I want to talk about is the creepy shit that went down while I was painting.

One of the first days I was working I had to paint some cabinets above a desk, where I found some paper trash. Old receipts, loose leaf paper, and envelope stuff. On one of the envelopes I saw a name of a man and decided to try and find out more about the previous owners by "Google"ing the name. The only thing I found was an obituary of the wife of the man. Turns out she died in the house.

I'm not generally someone who believes in ghosts and the like, but there were some weird things going on in there. Not intensely crazy things, but loud tapping on walls, doors opening and shutting, lights turning off and on. Just some weird shit. And like I said I don't believe in ghouls and shit, but that stuff creeped me out. Especially since I was alone the majority of the time and having just found out about the old lady dying in the house.

One moment, in particular, that was especially heinous was in the kitchen. I heard some really loud bangs coming from the ceiling. Being the crazily paranoid person I am, my first thought was "Holy shit a ghost!". But then slowly realized it was probably just the animal living in the attic because of the constant scurrying. All of the sudden it stopped right above the oven. After that there was just scratching noises over and over and over. I finished painting in the kitchen and ignored the noises. The next day, after telling my supervisor, Randy, about the noises I heard, he decided to bring out an exterminator. Well, he was more of a trapper. A real good ol' boy from the sticks. He had grown up catching little woodland creatures all the time for fun and thought he could turn that into a career, I guess. As I'm showing Randy where all the commotion was coming from we noticed blood dripping from the oven vent, and the smell in the house had increased ten fold. Seriously, it was goddamn disgusting. I thought it smelled like a zoo before, it now smelled like a zoo mixed with animal dukes mixed with rotting meat. In fact it was the worst thing I had ever smelled. I think. After a few seconds of exploring the oven vent, the trapper fellow found the little guy who had tried to make this house his own. He turned out to not be so little. And a possum. He had gotten himself stuck in the oven vent and tried to chew his way out. When the trapper made it to him he was long dead and missing an arm. Hence the blood.

Here's a sample of the work I was doing...

Now here... is the rest of the story

Seriously, here's part two of my SXSW adventure this year.

http://okc.net/2012/03/20/broken-dreams-and-chicken-waffles/

Stay tuned to my blog for the "guess-which-song-this-is-and-you-win-a-kiss" contest. And, you know, maybe my girlfriend will even give you a peck on the cheek. I haven't talked to her about it, but I'm sure she's cool with it.

cheers

Ya Blew It!

Hey, so I'm kind of published or something... Read it if you dare.

http://okc.net/2012/03/14/sxsw-2012-pt-1-rocking-the-saddest-block-party-of-all-time/


Also, I'm going to try and start doing this "thing" where I quote part of a song, reference a song, or post a video of me playing part of a song. If you can guess what song it is, you win. A kiss. from me. Good luck.

We're Not All Racists

I should know by now not to make drunken posts on the internet in the middle of the night.

The last one, however, seemed urgent at the time. Also, I was really drunk...

So about two weeks ago my bro Turner and I carried on with our normal Friday night ritual of going to the bar and getting blind stinking drunk. We met up with some old friends from high school and continued with the drinking. I don't remember the exact time we all decided to leave for another bar, but I remember it being around 12:30 am.

We were within walking distance to the next bar, so Turner and I decided to meet the rest of our party there, who were traveling by car.

*A quick P.S.A. Don' t drink and drive. It's dangerous.*

We get to "The Strip", where the next bar was, and it appears our friends were in a bit of a scuffle with some of the local douche-bag-frat-bros in front of Pita Pit. Supposedly, one of the d. bags through an entire pita at my friends car and started yelling a bunch of racist shit at her, she is noticeably native American. Let's call her Deana. What was said exactly, I don't know, this had happened before Turner and I got there. But, by the time we roll up, it's a full on brawl, people started pushing each other, grappling with each other, and punching each other, a dude even got choked out. So all this shit is going on, and another friend, Deric, who happens to be black/one of the nicest people I have ever met in my life, non violently stands up for his friend, who was publicly being verbally assaulted, and is immediately tackled and pinned up against a car. While Deric is defenselessly pinned down by d. bag #2, d. bag # 3 runs at full speed and clocks him in the dome. D. bag #3 is quickly grabbed by his bro and ushered into the Coney Island where he wasn't confronted on his act of cowardice.

By this time the cops show up and start to get the situation under control and as they are calming everyone down, they put Deric and Deana's boyfriend in cuffs. If there were two people involved in this whole mess to be put in cuffs it most certainly should not have been them.They eventually let Deana's white boyfriend go, but arrest Deric for public intoxication. To add insult to injury, while he's sitting in a cell, he asks the arresting officer when he will be released and a "hampering" charge is added to his ticket.

I know in the grand scheme of things this really isn't that bad. But, it was totally wrong, and still a little hard for me to take. A black dude got a P.I. after he was attacked by a group of drunken white frat boys. Racist shit happens all the time and everywhere, it's just hard to believe that it's so blatant.

The only conclusion I can come to after seeing this is not to trust frat boys or cops, and that life is unfair. Which isn't far, at all, from where I was before. I suppose the only thing I regret about the whole ridiculous fight/arrest is that I didn't pull out my phone and record it, just so everyone could see how fucking stupid it was. But, I do live in Stillwater, Oklahoma, so I'm sure I'll have more chances to catch frat boys and cops being assholes.

Peace

LIFE

I live in Stillwater, OKLAHOMA.

 I saw a BLACK MAN hit in the face and arrested for standing up for a woman being taunted.

STILLWATER OKLAHOMA POLICE OFFICERS ARE RACIST.

Thank you OSU.

It's been a while/In honor of SOPA&PIPA here's some copyrighted material

What does it all mean? Not to get too existential on you, but shit.

It’s been a while since I’ve written/typed anything, and I’m sorry for that. Not to you so much, but to me. I’m sorry to me for not writing more. It’s an uphill battle, but not a totally unpleasant one.

A lot has been going on. For instance, I’m in this band, right… and we had this show, ok… Long story short, a lot of hard work was put into it and it showed. Kind of. Scratch that. That “kind of” makes it seem shitty and it was not. It actually went better than anyone thought it would. That being said… it could have gone better. But, overall, it was a success. And you should have been there. It was fun and you would have liked it. Assuming I know what you think is fun/you weren’t there.

Here’s a video from a friend: 

That and the holidays. You know how much agnostics like the holiday season. So you can imagine how busy I was. To be honest I’m lazy.

Anyhoo… I’ve been going through one of my weird “what does it all mean” phases, only this time I’m not finishing off bottles of liquor by myself. This time it’s a little different. I’m taking in information with a grain of salt and trying my hardest not to freak the fuck out every time I think of the possibility of the world ending. BTW, just watched this documentary a few friends suggested called “Collapse”. Check it out. At the most it’s scary. At the least it’s informative. Either way, a good fucking film.

Aight, back to it. So I’m constantly thinking about these little problems I’ve been going through. We’ve all got ’em. Stupid little problems that we all blow way out of proportion all the time. Boy/girl problems, being a little behind with money, school assignments, you know, little bullshit that no one cares about but you. Meanwhile our government is selling us out, passing legislation that negates basic American  rights and stops the constant flow of free information (to say the least, anyway). Then there’s complete civil unrest going on in other countries, I STILL don’t have an Iphone, and for some reason keep thinking about this fucking god complex I have. I chalk it up to growing up Baptist and being reminded of Hell all the time. Fuck.

Then one night I’m trying to go to sleep and just happen to pop in a VHS copy of “Monty Python’s: The Meaning of Life” and I’m reminded of just how completely retarded (no offense to retards) “modern” life is.

Why the fuck would I want an Iphone anyway? It’s made by children and won’t improve my life in any significant way. And then I start thinking maybe it’s good the world is coming to an end. The way we live is totally backward. As “children of the earth” we live completely disconnected from it. We don’t make our own clothes, we don’t make our own houses, some of us don’t make our own food (harsh generalization, I know, just stay with me). And then I think back to “Collapse” and every other “Doomsday” documentary that I’ve watched, that wasn’t made by a cointelpro (*cough* Alex Jones, *cough*), and they all come back to the same thing… human beings going back to the way we were, hand in hand living with the Earth, not raping it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a free-loving head-in-the-clouds hippie who thinks the worlds problems can be solved so simply, but that last thought does give me some small level of comfort.

Whatevs. I just needed to get some things out of my head. Time for a cigarette and some sleep. Here are The Spits.