Life in the inner city. Mendicants, drunks, dope addicts, and poor old folks living on $600 a month. People will not listen, at least to me. Perhaps my advice is not good. Don’t drink, don’t dope it up. The poor people cannot afford ‘social drinking’.. ‘social doping’. Here it turns into just a monkey on their back. Homeless…then prostituting.. then jail..then prison. It is GOD AWFUL.
Prisoners and people in stir are avid readers. Avid readers- then they get out and do the same old stuff. Man you gotta TRY at life. At my job..I gotta TRY.. I have to prepare for the week ahead. You have to think, and you cannot continually fuck up.
We are hard on ourselves, living our lives in a daze, and thinking somehow we are going to just..”make it through”. Or.. “something will come to me”.
No week goes by where I just turn on the cruise control, and that semi truck just drives itself. There are close calls. Construction. People hit deer, dogs and everything else and are on the side of the road. Everyone expects everyone else to be “watching out for them”. The truth is.. NO ONE is watching out for them.. they are all out watching for themselves, and out for themselves.
Have you ever observed the workers at a fast food joint? They are working hard…they are engaged in their work. We are all just a hair’s breadth away from disaster at any given moment in time.
There is plenty of pain to go around, and we bring so MUCH of it on to ourselves. I observe my postal carrier, Frank, and boy… he sure does hump for his money. Glad to have him. A urban postal route seems a hard job, because he is humpin and pumpin every time I see him. He’s great. Sometime, I am going to take him a cool drink when he delivers. I dunno if this is ‘bribing’ a postal carrier or not, but he deserves it.
Meanwhile, the local petty crooks are wailing in the halfway houses. They get in, they get out, and mostly do the same old stuff… same old thing. Kissy Chris wanted to play “Lindsay Lohan” all weekend, but this got old fast.. I finally X’d her. I would rather be alone.
They’re all playing AA games. “I’ve been clean for 32 hours now, and I am gonna make it all up to you”..then appealing to their family for help. They give up quickly. They get tired of the forced prayers over the dog food they are eating at the Rehab centers. The recidivism rate must be 100%.
I am thankful, oh so thankful, when it is time to leave out over the road. One thing good about trucking is the time alone, by myself. I listen to tons of audio books. Got another Patricia Cornwell on deck. ONE of these audiobooks usually lasts me a week. I listen to several at a time. I listen to novels, I listen to Bob Proctor’s books, Jack Canfield and Mark V. Hansen, and others. I like James Allen.
These are the guys I like. But maybe, I should take it easy on the drunks and less fortunates. James Lee Burke was a stone alcoholic, and look at what he produces. He’s the finest writer of this day. I listen to Cornwell, Tami Hoag, and others of the detective genre. James Lee Burke is the most skilled writer I know of.