grandpa's garage (thursday or sunday, april 18, 2013)
chadwick
Posts: 21,157
(part I)...
i admit it i am a man of no tools. zero. knives & an axe, yep. i may have a pliers & maybe a couple things here or lost there in the darkness of storage but i don't believe i have a ratchet or a hammer or a screw driver or a simple torch. i had access to most everything, grandpa died, ryan died, dad died no tomorrow needs a toolkit in my trunk.
grandpa's garage was nice. it became ours. i wonder how many tools we ruined? buried in sand or clay. how many tent stakes / screwdrivers short or lengthy? grandpa had a nice garage. nice little wood stove heating when old man winter snuggles up against old woman iowa.
nice grinding wheels. iron brush wheel & grinder. the insane hand started wheel. grinding sparks are the shit.
wonder how many garage door glass windows grandpa replaced? answer... none. after they all were knocked out by basketballs, baseballs, footballs, volleyballs, soccer balls, or rocks or bb guns or pellet guns or slingshots or ninja stars and the swinging ninja weapon on a rope
wonder about grandpa's garage. my car is broken-down. maybe go break glass at uncle jimmy's or smash christmas tree ornaments in the garage. climb up into the rafters, build a clubhouse, black & white television & atari next to the greatness of smashing glass & climbing barns in the process of building erected.
grandpa's garage, our garage. giant crack ate tools & dirt & water & deep as grandpa built to last. this garage's concrete slab something like 14 feet deep if at least 32 inches thick. lost little sockets, broken weak ass putty knives, bolts stripped or otherwise, screws, wires, antique ashtrays, & diamonds lost forever, it lead to bad dreams & miserable events of torn flesh, blood & lost senses forever the crack
garages are the best. grandpa built good stuff to last years. grandpa worked at unusual tasks & WWII haunted his soul so he poured concrete. dog kennel foundations several feet thick with operating septic tanks. a perfectionist. so i wonder about grandpa's garage.
we'd break things & eat battery acid or whatever the corrosion off of car batteries is made out of
i admit it i am a man of no tools. zero. knives & an axe, yep. i may have a pliers & maybe a couple things here or lost there in the darkness of storage but i don't believe i have a ratchet or a hammer or a screw driver or a simple torch. i had access to most everything, grandpa died, ryan died, dad died no tomorrow needs a toolkit in my trunk.
grandpa's garage was nice. it became ours. i wonder how many tools we ruined? buried in sand or clay. how many tent stakes / screwdrivers short or lengthy? grandpa had a nice garage. nice little wood stove heating when old man winter snuggles up against old woman iowa.
nice grinding wheels. iron brush wheel & grinder. the insane hand started wheel. grinding sparks are the shit.
wonder how many garage door glass windows grandpa replaced? answer... none. after they all were knocked out by basketballs, baseballs, footballs, volleyballs, soccer balls, or rocks or bb guns or pellet guns or slingshots or ninja stars and the swinging ninja weapon on a rope
wonder about grandpa's garage. my car is broken-down. maybe go break glass at uncle jimmy's or smash christmas tree ornaments in the garage. climb up into the rafters, build a clubhouse, black & white television & atari next to the greatness of smashing glass & climbing barns in the process of building erected.
grandpa's garage, our garage. giant crack ate tools & dirt & water & deep as grandpa built to last. this garage's concrete slab something like 14 feet deep if at least 32 inches thick. lost little sockets, broken weak ass putty knives, bolts stripped or otherwise, screws, wires, antique ashtrays, & diamonds lost forever, it lead to bad dreams & miserable events of torn flesh, blood & lost senses forever the crack
garages are the best. grandpa built good stuff to last years. grandpa worked at unusual tasks & WWII haunted his soul so he poured concrete. dog kennel foundations several feet thick with operating septic tanks. a perfectionist. so i wonder about grandpa's garage.
we'd break things & eat battery acid or whatever the corrosion off of car batteries is made out of
for poetry through the ceiling. ISBN: 1 4241 8840 7
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
"Hear me, my chiefs!
I am tired; my heart is
sick and sad. From where
the sun stands I will fight
no more forever."
Chief Joseph - Nez Perce
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