On The Tracks
I propose a proposal…
I just read this article on Yahoo! Health - which, by the way, is one step below taking medical advice from a dyslexic hypochondriac on an overstock.com message board - on The Art of Intimacy: Why He Won’t Propose. And Doctor Dooshittle has four key points…
…to which I’ll add a man’s perspective [because there's [...]
Recent Posts
The freshest posts in seven counties.
What's a Hobo?
Anyone content with the idea of one man's trash being another man's house. Anyone who looks up at the night sky and says, "I wonder how much goulash is in the Big Dipper." Anyone who shoplifts at Arby's.
Under the Boxcar
Forgotten and Absorbed. To the milk. Below.
Brown penetrates white Under my watchful eye As I peer from outside The glass Cloudy With anticipation The silhouette writhes Stirring White becomes black I'll finish when they do. God, ...
and in here it’s dark…
Today, I saw a girl in a leg cast. I wanted to kick it. When people speed up on the ...
Biografía
I’ve written a brand new bio for The 10th Street Hobos. Enjoy. Love, Shabaas Once below a bright blue crescent moon, two warrior ...
Flophouse News
Proton Decay Begins in… While imbibing a fair amount of Belvedere (the vodka and the famous TV housekeeper with a six inch English hog) and watching “Universe” on the History channel, I realized that when all protons in the universe decay, everything will turn into radiation. Although mankind will have blown its load into the sock of global ruination [...]
The Bread Line
This One’s For the Girls… is the fucking GAYEST song I’ve ever heard. Right up there with “Goodbye Earl” and every other “uterus rock” song ever written.
I’m a hot waitress who made shitty life decisions - hence being a waitress. I date truckers and small town cocksuckers and they treat me like shit but I can’t seem to break this [...]
The Cat Wagon
A Soft, Wet, Pulpy Mass So, my special lady (which I say with all the fervor of a stank, dance-fighting greaser with a 4th grade sensibility but the know-how to build a chopper - with my alcoholic father who smells like Tom Waits’ voice sounds - that will take me as far as Flagstaff, where I subsequently find myself, get [...]
