LANDMINES

at last broshows up to deal with R in the boy's body...little control freak has two tvs on
cash rubbing his butt in the dirt again..mouthy
let's see how bro deal with it..
definitely a case of hide the salami..Dobe's apparently
guess he figures that's how it is..

rule of the bone...review

this was a hard one to read...in some ways it's supposed to be a defense of why people become homosexual...because this kid's dad is having him 'do stuff'...or did...also his reason for booking out of the family unit into some real scrappy housing with a series of human castoffs like himself.  I really wanted to poke around in the kid's head and extract the peripheral knowledge venues he was operating on, suspicious of everyone and everything because that's the cards life dealt him. 
Strangely author Banks (Russell) creates a very different sort of hero for this young man, a Jamaican Rastafarian named I man..who interestingly enough turns up in the same garbage can of a home where the boy has been staying when not elsewhere generating a pile of litter.  The boy has his 15th  birthday in Jamaica through a series of events that take  him from upstate New York to Montego Bay.  The vision quest his new Rastafarian associates provide him gives a glimpse into the ego the boy may achieve from his molestation experiences.  He's probably being assigned to a gay lifestyle but does talk about hot girls in the street about his age so maybe he's going to be arriving at adulthood not too confused by the lack of love in his young life. 
Banks' portrayal of this kid's street life in Au Sable, New York is very much a 1980's sort of portrait.  You can see the big hair and the bleached denim along with the significant exploitation of drug-induced states in characters such as the bikers the kid first lives with.  How does a child survive around such people?  From the parent to the roommate to the real dad, this boy gets nothing but grief and fear from being in the same room with any of these folks.  The only adult to actually interact with him is I man and it is only natural the boy would adopt the beliefs of the Rastafari in return for some sort of hope his birth wasn't a mistake.
I find it difficult to think the boy's mother is so detached from her son.  I do know, however, that in a case of molestation, the other parent is always unaware that something is happening to his or her child.  Her boy attempts to make a case for himself about his dad but the confusion of his emotions towards his mother, some underlying resentment that she somehow made this happen, override the effort.  The family unit is fractured beyond repair.
I hadn't read any of banks books but I wanted to know his style and so I have had my opportunity.. it's a good read, not dated at all by it's references to the late 80's, rather an interesting exploration of one young person's experiences on the road to adulthood.  it's kind of a chick book really, makes me want to give the kid a hug and bake him some cookies, give him a new kitten.. 

Corporate Seals...Donnie the Rump and the Metafarsical Premise of his Candidacy

corporate zeal...donnie the rump and the metapharsical premise of his candidacy ...

it's been a good day right up until I was told to keep my dogs out of the road by a supposed fellow dog lover (not)...the guy is a whiner bigtime, he can't have a conversation where he DOESn't whine..and I'm tired and cranky..but there it is...coulda been worse, I forgot to tell this yahoo I've been looking everywhere for the backhinge on my ancient rig and my best bet is go have him weld it...right..we'll see about that, these repairs take money, which I don't have as it's the end of the month...and I wasn't talking a out that anyways...I was loking at the little baby bonnet I just made for my granddaughter to be 'Maxwell'..and I repeat to myself the Beatles song 'bang bang maxwell's silver hammer came down upon her head, bang bang maxwell's silver hammer made sure that she was dead...'which I don't know what it means in terms of an anticipated birth...but my own monther is near that end of t he song situation, t he d word...and..well it just seems like bad luck to even talk abot it but then I'm kind of gravely with the people next store who were supposed to be buying my house and instead caused it to become foreclosed...so all the guys walking out of the place next door I should  consider them 'foes'...hmm?? probably
and that's Trump, the worlds biggest chump...he's not Donald Trump, he is donald the rump...
 I had a boyfriend looked just like that bugger...they coulda been twins...the boyfriend played football for the local team 'the Eagles'...and yeah he had a mother of his children baby momma thing going on for years but every time they'd have a spot I was where it was at...one christmas he duded up in a red velvet santa cap and a blender of candy canes and vodka (no clothes)...that was about as good as it got with that guy...pour one on and try to find his dick... which might go on all night depending on how much other substance the fuck had abused...it didn't ever get physical in a violent way but he sure could be a nuisance.you're so tried you're ready to plaster yourself over the wall paper and he's still trying to go at it...and there's no way to say honey, I can't find your penis, are you sure you've got one?
I imagine trump to be the same sort of sex machine...blow jo b...and hope he comes because if he doesn't you're in for it...
I'm serious these two motherfuckers could be peas in a pod they look so much alike...well actually my footballer was a rather ruggedly handsome dude but I think he was probably his most ardent fan...he got all his teeths pulled out shaved his head and started sporting a tattoo that said 'the man' like he was the only one (and they'd removed his dick when they put on the tatoo)  welll, you know, ten years into it he finally learned a little cunning linguistics to where he made me begin to purr just a slight bit but it was never a out anyting but sex with that motherfucker...I just know him and trump have a lot in common...he's be the worst weapon we could depoly with female operatives in t his country, ones powerful enough to give ol GP a run for their money...what a pain...we NEVER once had a real date, it was always about him needed a little 'attention'..which I came to understand was 'suck me off' that could take all night I always thought, buried in the hair of his weiner 'now I know how a male whore feels' damn is  he ever gonna get hard?  he'd be making these purring sounds like GP trying to run over a cat but he wouldn't get close to the edge for hours and when he finally did, well...he wasn't any heartbreaker that's for sure...I pity that baby momma who's got him back now...he says to me 'I wanna be with you"..and the next thing you know, he's right up there putting the barbequer on the deck and frying her burgers..the fuck...she's like all over him like jelly on peanut butter, I guess she's got strong muskles in her mao ffff...maybe...I didn't really get that about her, she works  hard, she's not real bright but hey he ain't stupid really, there's t he metafarcical situation with good ol Rumpindee Stiltstix...blasting on the Dave Lee Roth till it's burning down the house but nobody the wiser because it's far enough for anybody it don't matter, and who's play that stuff THAT loud?  unless they were an idiot to begin with, right?  you want things that LOUD where some fuckin' earphones, ya jerk!! never saw  him beatin on anyone and he did listen, but thing about an actual date where you have your clothes on and you go somewhere's special link dinner in town at Bushwacker or something?  never happen, I think we had maybe one or two dinners together but it was canned pizza at his place or I'd make somet hing and he'd have a spoonful which he was a fat guy so you wonder where'd t he twinkies come from...I mean really, a whole lotta blubber on that dude...often he told lme he loved me, which I'd believe  him and think everything gonna be ok...like a reggae song and he took off so fast to the baby momma chick I've been typin' with my eyes closed thinking I can face that fact and not wonder why it is we gotta tolerate such inhumane personal relations with one another...in fact, the whole time this was a goin' on, I comforted myself with the understanding I was his sex therapist somehow because when he moved on down the road to , back to, babyy momma (he has two sons) he never looked back, never called up whining saying I gave the t head ya da yada I mighta said at that point I'm sicka you but I didn't get the opportunity or haven't but I gotta say, when he'd look at me when we'd run into one another somewhere around here he'd look me up and down and I wouldn't have a stitch on, he was good at that...like very familiar, like 'I know how to fuck you....'
and yeah he did...but I never said I loved him, I once fell apart over a guy in just that way and he damn near drove me off the bridge but I recovered and even though I went on to marry I never felt that way about anyone in that way ever again...I got more realistic, like yeah sex is a big part of things but so is getting up when the baby scrfeams at 3 am and those are things make you say 'Ilove you' not that he's just made you come like burning a hole in the sheets...although that's good and I haven't had that in forever...well I  had it last night but it was a scene out of ghostbusters...kind of different nowdays when there's other people's flesh involved...there is sometimes but the buggers next door sell  him soon as he is out the door and you should see where they put him up when he gets back home...incredible...he's not a bad doodd..merely a variation on a recurring theme of wh's the latest asshole in muy life right?  this one writes an admirable facebook page but to find him in his own skin on a given day, like helping me make a pizza..well, you'd have to be totally stoked up with marijuana to be sure he was even there...and he WOULDN't be physically and that's nice how that works...but that's not the real meal deal and I say this about that, good ol Donald the Rump better make s ure a guy is a guy if he thinks he's gonna par sec my integrals in the voting booth, get it??

Callandret containment issues

Culhane Callendret did resolve the mystery of the floating feet while he was hoping to hook a great salmon out in the wild wild west of the northwestern pacific coast at Sekiu.  It turned out the currents were bringing the feet in from the Vancouver BC area although it was never really for sure if the feet hadn't been deposited from boats in the Strait of Juan deFuca which were carrying passengers who had their feet and were cutting off other feet or just feet in a bag with people who had feet throwing those severed feet overboard.
It turned out organized crime had gone into the feet severing business with the Pakistani community in the Vancouver BC area.   Culhane had narrowed the perpetrators down to a handful of weasels who extorted the businesses of Pakistani people in return for 'protection' against themselves.  People didn't really enjoy handing over their hard earned money for the purpose of not getting their feet cut off but there it was.   It couldn't be helped.  Culhane traced a pair of cycling Reeboks to a woman in the florist business who had gotten her salmon colored biking shoes from a retailer in Bellingham during a visit there from Vancouver.  One of the cycling Reeboks was found off Sekiu floating near the shoreline.  Culhane determined that Ms. Elani Jophetta had purchased the shoes and was a florist in Vancouver.  One thing led to another.  It was a sad day when Barnard Bolognollo was hauled in on the the missing feet charges.  Turns out good ol Barnard was in charge of a great pair of clippers that neatly sliced off the feet just above the ankle.  The rest of the body was then incincerated.  It was a particularly grisly process and one Culhane was glad to put to bed.  

family AIR looms...

kind of difficult to get into the composing part of this process..have been to lunch, brothers Bob and Pat were there..it's kind of strange how this is going these days...my mother has been hospitalized again..it was unclear if she would be coming back to her home or being placed in the longterm care part of the hospital...she's going to be 88 years of age in November, she's very frail and trembly, she doesn't know much what's going on but she's cognizant, just can't hear..anyways..Pat let me know she'd been put in the hospital so I drove over there to see her.  I went back the next day.  I would have gone today probably but I am having trouble getting along with Bob and his family.  That meant that I would be reluctant to be in the same room with them for fear there would be bad blood.  before my father died, he had me witness a will my parents had created that named me executor of their estate.  dad passed away and then last fall mom got really sick so bob and his wife came up.  they went through my parents' strongbox where the will had been placed.  they said they could not find it so they had a new one drafted.  this new will completely eliminates me from my parents' estate.  it leaves everything to my brother pat.  my parents built a home on the straits of juan de fuca.  it is a five bedroom house and was paid off some time ago although my youngest brother John died of cancer and th ere were medical bills during that time.  the house is well kept and full of family heirlooms ..Pat has been a lifelong batchelor so he will be living in that five-bedroom house by himself when mom either goes to a nursing home or passes away.  he said they changed the will because he was worried he wouldn't have a place to live when mom passed away.  I say 'they' because Bob's wife has been extremely involved in all of this just like she was in my daughter Angel's wedding, to the point where I have been excluded even though it was MY daughter's wedding and MY mother's estate that are involved.
Yesterday mom came home from the hospital.  I was not informed this had happened.  Bob and Pat showed up at the weekly Friday lunch we have here bringing the usual bucket of ice cream (vanilla).  I made two kinds of vegetable pasta, one a cold salad and one a hot dish.  Mom did not come Pat says she is very weak from the hospital stay.  Bob and his wife will be here until Sunday.  Bob said he would see me at church.  I said I might not be there because it was time to bring entries to the county fair.  I have a bonsai alder to enter in the garden exhibition.  I am looking forward to this.  I've been growing HiroAldo for three years now.  He's taller than the average bonsai planting and his branches are entertwined.  He's getting ready to shed his leaves as fall approaches.  He went through a dry patch or two.  He is quite unique.  I do want to have him exhibited at the fair this year.
So I'm sad about the developments with my mom.  I'd like to be there with her but have had a bad case of bronchitis and the residual cough sounds rumbly still.  And there's my brothers and sister-in-law to deal with.  I'm sad about that.  Mom got mad at me one day while I was sitting with her while Pat was having dental work done.  She said that Pat deserved to have everything because he'd looked after her when Dad died.  He has been living with them since he returned from working in Alaska.  Dad was uncomfortable with that arrangement.  He felt that Pat should not be living off of them.  Dad died conducting a civil engineering assay.  He would have been eighty years old.  When Dad died Pat stayed on with Mom.  He has degenerative disk disease.  He is unable to have a job.  He has stayed with Mom in the same bedroom he had as a child.  It's like he never left home. 
I am very sad about this.  In the will Dad and Mom drew up, the four of us living children, myself, my three brothers were to share the estate.  Since Bob and Mark have always been gainfully employed and are to this day, they don't  mind not having a share of the estate.  They think Pat's deserving of it and they agreed amongst themselves this is how it would be.  I was never consulted about it and knew nothing until I was asked to make copies of the documents at the library and mail them to Bob's attorney.  That was the only time I ever knew they had agreed to give Pat my parents' estate.  Like I say, I feel bad about this.  I've been looking after Mom when Pat has to go somewhere, for years I brought her home from church and took her for drives but now she's too frail to come to church anymore although she does try to get to the Friday luncheons.  She's missed them quite a bit since last October.  Today her place next to me was vacant.
So I don't know  how this will all end up.  Pat's health isn't that great he has onset Parkinsons and there are no heirs except Bob's children so that's probably who will end up with my family home.  My neice is doing well but nephew lives in the basement of Bob's house.  He's not doing so great. I guess I have to wash my hands of all of this and just forge ahead as I have done always.  I lived with Mom and Dad when I first returned to the area in 2005.  I  had become unengaged and was very sad.  I had a television program that was keeping my spirits up, human values sort of entertainment, and each morning while at my parents' house I would watch this tv show at 8am.  After a few days, Pat came up to me and said 'shut that off'...that's just the kind of guy he is... 

sitting in the dentist's chair

haven't done it for a w hile...had to sleep on campus in my car as son wasn't up for letting me stay in the parking lot of his building...kind of a bummer t hat however, I spent the night in peace, got up early and went to a park on the lummi res to get put together, then had breakfast at Old Town Cafe..forgot my keys in the bathroom momentarily, that and outgoing coffee was where I left them..in the dentist's chair it was a real experience of drilling, spraying, suctioning and get this widget and get that widget until almost noon for my two front teeth, that was a relief to have that completed, my face was numb up to my hairline from the anaesthetic it feels good to have t hat big chip repaired won't be back until the fall when I will continue with the cleaning and so on, restoring big crown that broke off on wasabe peas...have had my mortgage on my mind, baloon payment I should have made at the beginning with pension withdrawal I didn't do and I will owe about 4 gs at the end of October  this is when daughter is giving birth to maxwell I wrote to my brother asking to borrow t hat amount and he has not answered..am getting kind of edgy about it but it seems as though if I can make things work, I will find the money somewheres...
it has been raining nonstop for almost a week, the garden is overgrown, needs a mow and I am here today at vc because patti didn't make it...was ru nning up to the mail to check to see if stm had paid me yet they've had a bill from me for almost three weeks and no sign of payment to come as yet...this is frustrating, also because of the rain have not been able to paint and someone has taken off with the hubcap and lug nuts for the s10 which I got the tires fixed on and was planning to haul down to joe's to be repaired by rory..it's all in a day's experience..onward and upward

The Callandret Appeal

I wrote a series of stories featuring Culhane Callandret.  One of those was about the Poe River bank robber.   He robbed a bank in Frederickburg, Virginia.  Fredericksburg is not too far off from where Miss Mirabelle  had her fine home.  It's also pretty close to where the bank robber ran when  he got out of the bank.  He had the total of the tills in a brief case.  He ran to a beatup car parked in the alley behind the bank.  He drove off into the steaming suburbs of Fredericksburg, thinking he would hole up on the Poe River.  He got out on 55, the interstate that runs almost in a straight line up to Alexandria.   He turned off at the exit he knew would take him out to the little back road that was to be his hiding spot.  He drove the car into a swampy place that even in the hot summer day was still mud and clay.  Cicadas were making their rattling raspy sound from t he trees along the river bank.  The bank robber pulled the car into a spot that covered it with brush.  He got out and walked along the river's edge, listening to the water moccasins sliding into the slow moving brown water.

After getting a mile or so down river, the robber decided to sit down in the shade to count his take.  He clicked open the brief case, staring at the green bills laid out inside.  As he sat there with the sweat dripping off his brow, a shiny snake slithered up behind him.  It bit him in the back of the neck.  He fell over dead on top of the money.

Culhane came into this story because Miss Mirabelle phone him the afternoon the robbery took place.
"Can't have common thieves taking over our commonwealth," she sternly said to Culhane.
"That's right, Miss Mirabelle, we certainly can't have the Commonwealth of Virginia sullied in such a fashion."  Culhane was adroit with his mother.   He knew just how to steer  her boat and keep her happy.

Culhane was a forensics detective with the FBI.  He hung around Quantico teaching new recruits the ropes, looking for ones with an apptitude for forensics, sometimes hitting the jackpot with recruits like the young man he was bringing with him down to Fredericksburg, Jason Franks.  Jason was from Ohio, his father a policeman in his hometown.  Jason was smart and a quick learner.  Culhane was enjoying following the trail of the robbery with such an eager student.

"Well, we'd better get a look at the surveillance cameras at the bank first off, don't you think?"  culhane asked Jason.
"Yes, sir."
They walked into the Commonwealth Bank, his mother's place of business when she was banking.  The tellers were still shaken by the robbery.  The local police had been in with crime scene kits and there was residue of fingerprint dust on all the counters.
"Just wanna look at t he surveillance tapes for that time," said Culhane to one of the tellers.  The teller got the manager and the manager played the surveillance for them.
"Looks like little Petey Jamison from up yonder, ya think?" asked culhane of the manager, who was a family friend.
"I'd say that be him, but for that crookedy hand he's got there, looks like he scraped it up a bit, mangled it somehow.  Don't recollect Petey  having a hand like that but if someone was going to rob a bank around here, Petey'd be the one I'd be prone to point a finger at."
Culhane played the tape a time or two to be sure, he had his man.  then he put in a call back to the office asking for a run sheet on Petey Jamison.  It came back quickly and as he screened the information it contained, he became certain the robbery had been comitted by Petey.
"Reckon we'll be taking a little ride out by the Poe, see if Petey's holed up at the old moonshine shack they used to have out that way.  See if we can come up with anything useful."
Culhane had never been one to swim the Poe, at least not along the country lane where the Jamison farm had stood.  It was never kept up very well, Petey had gone barefoot summers to save on shoes, there were chickens running everywhere, paint peeling, roof sagging, driveway a rutted blotch  full of puddles and mud come winter.  Culhand steered the bureau sedan down the bumpy lane and parked near the old place.  It had been abandoned years before, the roof still held but barely.  The porch was gone and the front door stood wide open.
"Fine place for a meth lab," said Jason.
"Wouldn't be suprised if it was," said Culhane.  "Ba