Business advice poolside escalated into deafening slurs of agro chants while family's coward in the spotlights of hotel parking lots. Most days we would get back to our parking spot, 13 after leaving our rally position in the paddock garages also labeled with a 13. Garage 13 was a staging point for all things tables and chair related. Our neighbors were strange creatures loading in and out a variety of booty from queer shirts to soda, energy brain juice, water but mostly ice. This ice is like gold on any event battleground and we had full right on fuck you access. We ran a tight cooler at all times, a young buck should learn from the start a healthy stocked cooler with a wide variety of mix and EXTRA COLD BEER at the bottom is basically a sign of preparation and full on intent to be a winner. You let your cooler drag the pass soon enough your creatures will loose faith. I can't stress enough keeping a strong variety of mix and keeping the ice box within an arms reach.
The forward progression moved at a brisk mind melting pace paved by the highway of speed, No sleep and strong drink. A pint turned turned to a fifth in no time, arguments in the morning consolidation seemed to increase day by day. A real hatred grows between humans when money is on the line, jobs are contracts and the beating your ass sun makes you slur your speak. I hated those moments and it nearly pushed me in. Creatures become monsters when drugs take hold, shaking vision and sweat pours from all creases of the body and brain, sickness of spirit consumes the days and time looks like a thin artifact baked in the sweltering heat. Time was an idea. No matter how hard you could work, time would pass but always a feeling of hurried unfinished progress and a feeling of inadequacy. Blathering poolside of a job well done, or "WE ARE THE BEST" fell in as shadows from the truth. SPUN, SHOT OUT, DRUNK and TIRED were the actual headlines.
Tunnel vision confused me from night and day, the poolside arguments and meat jockeys haunted me in slumber and wake, tales of being handled by men into a company truck during a company party coursed through my veins like the 10 double Maker's Marks I gulped to take me further away. I can't recall a clear vision of that night, a thought of dumbness and wasted CORPORATE ESPN STOCK FALLING money kept running through my head and the idea that everyone here is a scum sucker. Those are bad thoughts on a strong whisky trip, especially Makers. The night turned against me with a whispering sucker punch, I assume; as you would me, the drink worked it's way into my being. Phone numbers made no sense and I kept thinking the Civil War was a joke and if it wasn't it sure as fuck was't dead yet. Austin Texas in my view, at that point in time, was a cumshot dripping down a painted cinder block wall. Pussy was obsolete because it might be considered "uncool" and if you saw some, you might as well ridicule, because you are a MAN. WITH A MOTOR CYCLE. JUST LIKE THE OTHER 20,000. MUTANTS FROM SOMEWHERE HELLS. Fashionable great smelling breeds on a 6 year stint, creeps not worth stabbing. I've seen jokers in my day. Magic show bikers and tearful tramps, but this was a new low. An entirely new category of, "yet undocumented scum."
I was in a bad brain.
I was engulfed in a swarm of Hipster Cannibals and personally I was hot from whiskey and all thee above. I vaguely remember proclaiming my departure and possibly fighting in the parking lot outside the shit show. A great friend, Brother, and Allie....saved me from a spot in the Austin County Jail, we never discussed such details of this incident but the knots on my head serve as two things: I was drunk enough to bang my head around on ground or truck... or b.) I was rescued by a true friend out of a beat down, either way...I'm writing this now. We made it to the room and I woke up, still dreary from the night before with a sense of hiding from all other ESPN TYPES for the entire work day. I hate these days of regret and blackout drunk crime scene thoughts; every time you see a Sheriff you think "well, I guess that's me" Walking into staff services, a shit pit of weak NON LABOR TYPES, I overhear a conversation about last night's events, how "it ain't a party till you see people puking all over each other" One girl chummed in, "I couldn't drink anymore whiskey i was so drunk but I ordered two more doubles, I mean, when your so fucked your dumping whiskey down your shirt you should stop, but I didn't!!!!!! They had a 10,000 guarantee on the bar and that was met by 10:30...hahahh" I overheard this walking into the front doors looking for nothing, actually just patrolling. I kept think about Full Metal Jacket when the guy says " we're jolly green Giants roaming the Earth with Guns." That was my mentality and gift. I've, we've, 898, have done a few through tests of all limits. But that's the gig. Labor makes it happen then suit and tie dummies with girls with fresh faces and great smells with clean cloths and perfect teeth to match, GPA's with degrees; go home with STORIES. Well, fuck you. Shit don't happen by chance, and most images in word or picture aren't exactly clear as an un muddied lake, there is always a variable. And those variables are possibilities, possibilities to become efficient tracks of the landscape of OUR PRESENCE. To move quickly, without hesitation, is but ONLY our greatest compromise.
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