Sunday, August 8, 2010


I am waiting until the prescribed time so I can go over to International Paper and pick up a load going to Fresno, somewhere around there.. I can't recollect right now. But I am parked next to one of those trucks with the new noxious diesel powered generator/heater/air conditioner units mounted on the frame behind the cab and it's over there blaring away and emitting poison gases at nostril level --- if you think you can sleep parked between two of these go right ahead and enjoy it, because I cannot. I just spent another sleepless night in Fernley parked next to just one of them.
But this one is one of the renter-operator setups operated and rented by some couple or other from somewhere in Texas and it has the official Say something pleasant sounding which precludes any critical thought type motto; this being "What Price Freedom?"

Although I have been gentler on my buddy boys the past few days, psychically, and this evening as I sat and ate white eggs and greenish ham trying to read my new Azuz Amed book was overhearing them around the counter, talking about Area 51, snow and ice, and trying to think what Strom Thurmond's name was -- the old waitress told them but then purposely mispronounced his last name so they wouldn't think she was smart  -- but there they were, eating, talking and smiling and enjoying their favorite pastime out here which is eating, and talking and smiling.

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