There was a time when the people of here were mostly younger and id say in their years of trikes and mud puddles when chemicals played a much larger part of my life. The likes of bill with the crazy afro with his apogee IV lived next door. His roomie danny. Across the hall the drunk tke brother and others. I would smoke bowl fulls of green leafy stuff. I was no hippie. Born in 1960 I miseed that train by 5 years or more.
A bit of a strange guy, I was struggling with demons of my own unable to communicate with the others except for a silly grin when the smoke invaded my brain. I would sit in my room for hours and write pages full of nonsensical gibberish writing down every random thought that came in to my head.
Geronimo Harris was often a part of my ramblings. Geronimo whose real life name was george was my roommate. No one liked george as he smoked all their weed and never contributed. George was a sort of wolfman looking guy with a large head. The kind of person that no one wanted to be around. I remember another roommate with a passion for blues and a large parachute which he insisted we hang from the ceiling. His father worked for nasa and the parachute was used to land test rockets safely or so he claimed.
There were pontiac bonnevilles which were used to run over unsuspecting mailboxes while driving through the mountains of the shenendoah valley with our heads full of blotter and crystal meth. Bill brought back an old wagoneer one weekend. The old full size monster with the steel dashboard lacking any sort of padding. Seatbelts were for the weak in those days if you could find them. The jeep took us camping to mountaintops with names like reddish knob and flagpole. Along the way to the top we would stop and marvel at one of harry byrds pork projects visible on the west virginia side of the mountain. Some sort of radar listening post used to spy on enemies of the state and intercept messages from other worlds. At least that s what we told ouselves.
There was another guy whose name escapes me who always carried a briefcase full of the tools of his trade. Both the businessman and executive were part of his tokemaster collection living in the briefcase hidden to the world.
Abestos covered the ceiling in the dining hall. Occasionaly a pat of butter would fall from the ceiling. The basketball team lived down the hall. There was a guy named steve who was the star center. A tall white guy he could empty an executive tokemaster fill and empty a second before exhaling. There was a short negro on a basketball scholarship. Very likable but I can’t remember him ever playing.
There were no cell phones. Each room was outfitted with your standard ma bell old school dialer. The kind that could be disassembled to cross wires producing unpredictable behavior.
There was a guy named dave who was part hispanic and part eskimo. We called him spanook. There was a guy named kent who was from down the road in staunton. His dad owned an excavating company and lived grew up with the statler brothers. Kent would borrow daves trans am and purposely wreck in to the sides of parked cars when he was drunk. Kent went to uva law school when he graduated and most likely is a lawyer. There was a guy named allen. I once got mad at allen for some reason that now escapes me and pissed in his sneakers.
There were no dogs. Train tracks went through the middle campus. We would steal beer pitchers and mail pouches from the student bar and grill on campus. I still have one of the pitchers.
Before we were married my wife lived in an apartment. I once went in a drainpipe in the complex and followed it for about a half mile and sat there in the dark for a while. I don’t know why I did this but sitting in the pitch black of that tube completely alone in the silence was a very memorable experience. I later talked my future sister in law to go in there with me. It was not the same.
When I was a kid we would visit my aunt and uncle in roanoke. Uncle charlie was known to drink a bit and would point out the indians on the mountaintop visible out of his piture window. I would sit and watch for what seemed like hours looking for those indians. I was convinced I saw them once.
I once drank a shot of mens cologne on a dare. I once had a reputation for eating ants, ladybugs, fireflys, and such when I was drunk. I demanded a dollar for such hijinks. I used to be able to pick up a tenis ball with my toes. I tried to do this not so long ago and failed miserably.
I have lived in virginia my whole life and sometimes fantasize about what it would be like to live alone in a beach shack on the outskirts of some small fishing village on the coast of south america.
For some reason I own a bowling ball shoes and a bowling shirt but I don’t bowl. There is an 850 foot tv tower not far from where I grew up. I can remember at least twice when I was a kid someone tried to climb it. All the neighbors were out in the streets with binoculars trained on the nut climbing the tower some hoping he would make it down safely and others hoping he wouldn’t.
I have owned nine dogs honey lady stormy spook smyree batka fatcha toby and coltrane. I have never owned a cat but I enjoy watching other peoples cats hunt prey.
When I was younger I took harmonica lessons from a guy named nat riddles. Nat died from leukemia before I really learned to play. I sometimes like to bring out the old hohner and annoy the dogs with the few blues riffs I remember.
I reently looked up geronimo harris on facebook. He looks a little older but still has a sort of wolfman vibe to him. He lives in genesee new york now. I did not send him a friend request. I never really liked him that much 30 years ago and really don’t have anything to say to him now.
bligatory smilee:
A bit of a strange guy, I was struggling with demons of my own unable to communicate with the others except for a silly grin when the smoke invaded my brain. I would sit in my room for hours and write pages full of nonsensical gibberish writing down every random thought that came in to my head.
Geronimo Harris was often a part of my ramblings. Geronimo whose real life name was george was my roommate. No one liked george as he smoked all their weed and never contributed. George was a sort of wolfman looking guy with a large head. The kind of person that no one wanted to be around. I remember another roommate with a passion for blues and a large parachute which he insisted we hang from the ceiling. His father worked for nasa and the parachute was used to land test rockets safely or so he claimed.
There were pontiac bonnevilles which were used to run over unsuspecting mailboxes while driving through the mountains of the shenendoah valley with our heads full of blotter and crystal meth. Bill brought back an old wagoneer one weekend. The old full size monster with the steel dashboard lacking any sort of padding. Seatbelts were for the weak in those days if you could find them. The jeep took us camping to mountaintops with names like reddish knob and flagpole. Along the way to the top we would stop and marvel at one of harry byrds pork projects visible on the west virginia side of the mountain. Some sort of radar listening post used to spy on enemies of the state and intercept messages from other worlds. At least that s what we told ouselves.
There was another guy whose name escapes me who always carried a briefcase full of the tools of his trade. Both the businessman and executive were part of his tokemaster collection living in the briefcase hidden to the world.
Abestos covered the ceiling in the dining hall. Occasionaly a pat of butter would fall from the ceiling. The basketball team lived down the hall. There was a guy named steve who was the star center. A tall white guy he could empty an executive tokemaster fill and empty a second before exhaling. There was a short negro on a basketball scholarship. Very likable but I can’t remember him ever playing.
There were no cell phones. Each room was outfitted with your standard ma bell old school dialer. The kind that could be disassembled to cross wires producing unpredictable behavior.
There was a guy named dave who was part hispanic and part eskimo. We called him spanook. There was a guy named kent who was from down the road in staunton. His dad owned an excavating company and lived grew up with the statler brothers. Kent would borrow daves trans am and purposely wreck in to the sides of parked cars when he was drunk. Kent went to uva law school when he graduated and most likely is a lawyer. There was a guy named allen. I once got mad at allen for some reason that now escapes me and pissed in his sneakers.
There were no dogs. Train tracks went through the middle campus. We would steal beer pitchers and mail pouches from the student bar and grill on campus. I still have one of the pitchers.
Before we were married my wife lived in an apartment. I once went in a drainpipe in the complex and followed it for about a half mile and sat there in the dark for a while. I don’t know why I did this but sitting in the pitch black of that tube completely alone in the silence was a very memorable experience. I later talked my future sister in law to go in there with me. It was not the same.
When I was a kid we would visit my aunt and uncle in roanoke. Uncle charlie was known to drink a bit and would point out the indians on the mountaintop visible out of his piture window. I would sit and watch for what seemed like hours looking for those indians. I was convinced I saw them once.
I once drank a shot of mens cologne on a dare. I once had a reputation for eating ants, ladybugs, fireflys, and such when I was drunk. I demanded a dollar for such hijinks. I used to be able to pick up a tenis ball with my toes. I tried to do this not so long ago and failed miserably.
I have lived in virginia my whole life and sometimes fantasize about what it would be like to live alone in a beach shack on the outskirts of some small fishing village on the coast of south america.
For some reason I own a bowling ball shoes and a bowling shirt but I don’t bowl. There is an 850 foot tv tower not far from where I grew up. I can remember at least twice when I was a kid someone tried to climb it. All the neighbors were out in the streets with binoculars trained on the nut climbing the tower some hoping he would make it down safely and others hoping he wouldn’t.
I have owned nine dogs honey lady stormy spook smyree batka fatcha toby and coltrane. I have never owned a cat but I enjoy watching other peoples cats hunt prey.
When I was younger I took harmonica lessons from a guy named nat riddles. Nat died from leukemia before I really learned to play. I sometimes like to bring out the old hohner and annoy the dogs with the few blues riffs I remember.
I reently looked up geronimo harris on facebook. He looks a little older but still has a sort of wolfman vibe to him. He lives in genesee new york now. I did not send him a friend request. I never really liked him that much 30 years ago and really don’t have anything to say to him now.
bligatory smilee:
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