Parts

Reading some of Larry's recent posts has me fired up to start tinkering with the rigid project again. Scraped up some money and ordered some parts. And the magic UPS truck rolled in and delivered. I'm especially excited about the rotten bananas.





Managed to wrestle the motor up on the bench and the frame back on the "stand." Huge progress. (Ha, ha)

Shop Cat VIII is always right in the way.

The life of a shop cat is difficult at best. I provide food, water and shelter but it's up to them to avoid trucks, tractors, coyotes and antifreeze. The Compound is located about five miles from an impoverished, sleepy, meth-lab of a town. The resident rednecks like to dump their cats on the road in front and some end up making their way to the shop. This one showed up about three weeks ago and seems friendly and pretty smart, but lazy as hell.

"Doo, Doo, Doo, Lookin' Out My Backdoor..."

Summertime screen door slams
rusty spring twangs its off key song
green headed fly bounces off the wire

beads of sweat run down pilfered ice box bottle
back porch guzzle quenches thirst,
cool beer drips and trickles between hot breasts

am radio hangs from a rusty nail,
Lefty Frizzell sings his tinny refrain from inside the kitchen
distant signal from coat hanger antennae



outhouse doors and hookworm
polio and fried chicken
shotgun shells and washboards
greasy fingers groping under threadbare cotton dress

Sweet Leaf

According to the International Brotherhood of Hermits we’re to eat twelve to eighteen pounds of green, leafy vegetables every week. Easily achieved in the temperate days of spring, summer and fall.
In the frigid winter months this becomes a challenge, but despite single-digit temperatures, a bountiful yield is possible with the help of The Lord, a south-facing raised bed and the miracle of modern plexiglass.

This arrangement provides enough succulent kale to keep my mind sharp and my stools regular.

Too Much Jack

Big New Years celebration at The Hermit Compound last night. A little too much Jack Daniels and bath salts. Things got a little out of hand as they often will, but what the hell.


Still don't know how I got those boots on over my swollen ankles............

The Shining

Twelve inches of windswept snow coming across acres of prairie deposit some moderate to heavy drifts around the compound. I've plenty rice, beans, firewood and whiskey, so let it snow.

The threat of madness is always lurking when the hours of tedium are coupled with cold temperatures and isolation, but a warm fire and a bottle of Wild Turkey should be enough to stave of any Jack Nicholsonian cabin fever.

Tonight I drink, if I make it, tomorrow I dig out!

Mustard and Biscuits

With the thermometer dropping and the wind raging across the Midwest, thoughts turn to the warmth of the shop, with its whiskey and kerosene. The slingblade is hung on its hook with care, poised to mete out its savage justice.

If a tree falls in the forest.....

Far away, men with large egos and small minds squander diminishing treasure. Meanwhile the feeble, late-fall sun shines weakly through dirty windows and winter’s chill tightens its grip. I sit in solitude, marking the passage of time by the ticking of the clock and the gathering pile of dog hairs on the well-worn floors of this dismal shack. Like the philosopher who pondered the silence or sound of a tree falling in an uninhabited forest, I face an existential dilemma. If one posts thoughts on an unread blog, I wonder, is he not simply talking to himself? Must sweep floor.