Me in a nut shell

This is what the man (asshole) in the Ford with American Indian jewlery hanging from his rear view saw yesterday on Geary when he stopped short to block me from crossing the street. After throwing his hands up, I said "What? you stopping short on me?" he says " GO FUCK YOURSELF!!! You........ garbage....... man........." and speeds off as I salute him for his creativity in belittlement.

Cubisim?

Nancy showed me this link in the comment a few posts below and although I am super fucking jealous I didn't come up with the idea first the jealousy is superseded by the sheer feeling of amazement/disgust/befuddlement/confoundedness/agassesness that someone would pay $50.00 for a cube of trash from a tourist attraction. It has come to my attention in picking up city cans that its tourists leaving behind most of this trash and the idea that someone would want to commemorate their trip by paying for someone Else's trash makes me crazy. The kind of crazy that has dollar signs in its eyes! Who's with me here? Let us make some money selling garbage (made in china?).

I mean isn't that what commerce is all about? Showing someone that there is a hole in their life and filling it.
In this case their life is the land fill and I am still the God damned garbage man... So cyclical its nauseating.

Also, the guy calls the cubes-o-trash "scupltures". Who is this guy? Marcel Duchamp's great grandson? Would he call him Great grand-DADA?

Mine own two eyes.

Cable car turn around at Powell and Market.
A blind Asian man sings "the sun will come out tomorrow" for spare change into a microphone that plays from his travel case (the kind the business class uses).
A young Urban person approaches him mid song and axes/demands the mic.
The blind man gives the mic up like a shell shocked folk singer at his first open mic night while young jeezy (shoes untied, laces spread out a foot on either side of his feets) begins an over the top R&B song directed in the direction of Blonde's Pizza.

Saw the blind singer yesterday singing his own version of an Air Supply song changing the lyrics to "I can't fight my feeling anymore!". REMIX!!!!

Service with a smile.

Jack in the box.
Mission at 4th st.
street "individual" holding the door open for patrons hoping to incur the endless amounts of spare change folks are all too ready to give out if someone would just hold the door open for them when they enter a building.
Sporting a half assed smile beneath a full beard (I have come to learn he is called the wolf man, I'm guessing for the beard and not what he does in the park at night),
his looks chiseled by the streets, or speed (Same thing?).
His Steed (bike) leans against the wall with a custom paint job in purple, black and silver paint pen that simply states all his views in three simple letters: FTW.

Woke up drowning in chatchkie hell.

A few weeks ago I was picking up city cans in Union Square. I opened one on Stockton Street and found a twenty staring back at me. Now I have been fooled before, many times by 9-11 bills, some promo add for a dry cleaner desined to look like a bill, even a poo dollar has caught me off guard. But this was the real deal and it was Friday so I was pumped and now more so. The remainder of the shift was spent driving around picking up more tepid coffee remains (thanks Starbuck) and dog shit (these two are the majority of the contents of city cans), my anniversary was coming up and I was going to drop some cash on knives and other such food-nerd supplies for the wife and this would certainly help the ding be a bit less loud, then again I could get dinner or beer or gas. The mind gets busy quick, like when you are about to get a settlement and you have mapped out what the cash is going to.

It always ends bad. Always.
This instance was no different.

The victory lap of my shift was Market street between Stockton and North 5th st. and I could feel the fucker flutter around in my right pocket where I had shoved it hastily upon discovery, when I came upon this punk or crusty or train hopper or whatever and she had a dog and her clear cup was empty and I started to do the math of what I was making per day, per hour etc., I eye balled the dog and thought about mine and how important it is that I make sure she eats. So in a thought full/less instant I turned to the girl and said "look what I found in the garbage" as I handed her the Twomp (that used to be "street" for a 20 sack, K.I.R.!) she sprang into what I thought was going to be an inspired one woman reenactment of a scene from Bill and Teds excellent adventure as if she was doing "street theatre".
No. Not so lucky. This was her style.
"DUDE! THANKS DUDE! REALLY?"
I almost said no, not really and took the shit back. It was obvious that this chick was a junkie and I saw exactly where my money (mine?) was going as she carried on with "I JUST GOT INTO TOWN... HOW DO YOU GET THIS JOB? THAT'S COOL! MAN! REALLY? NO WAY! YOU ARE THE COOLEST!"

I couldn't hear her anymore. I was seeing red and rehearsing how I would never tell anyone about this, just like the time I was taken for $20 by the dude wearing a stethoscope saying he worked at the hospital and he was late for his shift and that needed a ride to his sisters house and in a moment of vulnerability, human kindness and whole hearted foolishness i gave him both the ride and the 20. Fuck me running! I just did that?
yes.

As her "old man" approached she phased me out and I stormed back to the truck watching her dance around the blanket they had layed down I suppose in an attempt to avoid getting dirtier, waving the money as if she were singing "we gonna get high tonight".
So bummed. I shut it out. Completly.

until...
I found a tenner Monday in the recycling, I stopped the blade from taking it into the truck with all the junk mail, FHM mags, Yachting digest and other non recyclable items like power chords, dvd players, toaster ovens, mattress pads, pots and pans, the occasional bumper from a car (its endless the kind of shit people think you can magically recycle just by putting it in the blue can "well it has metal and plastic right?"), at any rate I grabbed the ten repeating "not this time" over and over again out loud.
This one bought drinks for my partner and my self for two days. Not tye-dyed rolling papers, chore boy brillo pads and butane lighters.

In recent weeks I have found:
Mole skin journal that I left on the roof of my car, only to remember it on the bridge.
A shopping bag full of Diesel jeans and some other expensive denim brands that the women in the marina think that once they are done with it that it should just be trashed. "Banana Republic cashmere when combined with stripper shoes will decompose right?" (LETS GREEN THIS CITY! LIKE REALLY!)
Cell phone holster still in is package.
Sorry ass love letters.
A lamp shaped like a tree that need the wiring replaced.

Have I mentioned that the only panties you ever see are thongs? You never see granny panties or just plain old panties, always thongs. I guess you get what you pay for...

Anyway. I have rambled enough.
Perhaps I will find the motivation to connect the scanner soon and share some finds.
Until then I guess you will be left to read poorly written gibberish. Just be glad I utilize the spell check.
Until then I remain glowing in the pre-dawn light.

WILD STALLIONS!
-Socrates

Jesus. Is somebody mad at you?

the June July

Sorry ya'll (damn! I love the real estate pros) that I have been dragging such ass. But as most of you know we were waiting on a delivery of goods and the goods have showed up. I can't Say enough about this new product except that i sleep even less than i used to, so expect to see a Samsonite link at the side of the page due to the luggage sponsorship I landed due to the excessive luggage beneath the eyes.
I am back to work too early (a week off...) and I will try to get the scanner hooked up before too long and show some of the stellar notes that have blown into my path.

I did find this today and plan on keeping it in the bathroom to disturb company and most likely the wife. I also bought me these bitches so look the fuck out! now all I need is the grey shorts to go with my new hot bod.
nap time and then I will hold shit in various forms until I go back to work where I will again hold shit in more forms, perhaps shape some... it builds character.
I know no one is reading this and there is a sense of freedom in that. A feeling of peace even.

Back in your life

While filling in on a route Friday I opened the recycling toter to find a seemingly brand new North Face super pro camping back pack stuffed with a tent bag, sleeping pad and a receipt for some Tumi luggage purchased back in 1996 for $667.00. At first I had thought there was something to return and some money to come up on, then I realized that the receipt was for the one item that was not there.

I was, however both relived and disappointed to not have found a sleeping bag along with the rest of the booty. Disappointed because our household lacks sleeping bags yet relived because using a bag that belongs to someone you do not know let alone have never seen just seems plain nasty. Even if they are rich enough to be dumb enough to think that by placing their "old" camping gear in the "blue" can that it will find it's way to being recycled, which in a way it has. I cannot say the same for the PC hard drive that lay just below it in the same can...

Peep the jamming finds of Friday below. I am fascinated by the colorway of the tent, Miami vice goes camping with OP?:






Other recent finds include:
-Brand new sealed Griffin italk voice recorder for ipods.
-Copies of last months New Yorkers for the bathroom sessions.
-A Tyvek envelope with my first and middle name (the first one, I have two middles and the cops don't like it when they overlook that) printed in marker above "San Francisco", this caught me off guard because believing everything that my parents told me when I was growing up I truly believed that I was special and one of a kind. Now to find that there was a partial version of me living in the Marina (a few blocks away from where my grandmother grew up) and it took all my strength to remove my self from the breezeway floor wipe away the tears and continue with my job while my mind travelled through the alternate universe very similar to that movie Primer. I am sure that everyone has moments like these once in a while...
-A note that confesses to stealing money after complaining about being used as the scape goat for the stolen money. I will post this one soon as it is a real kicker.
-A note between two old women discussing the issues of ageing and deterioration of health that goes from detailing mothers day activities to describing sores and bleeding in places you only read about (ahem) to listening to Oak Ridge Boys records. All this done in four small pink pages.
-DVDS, all sealed and wide screen format:
Hitch
Take The Lead
March Of The Penguins
Four Brothers
-I also found a strong and permanent distaste for a co-worker that pissed me off to such a degree that I attempted to leave him behind. This is the individual that dislikes black men but lusts after black women (see one of the first few posts) and refers to his father in law as a "dirty Mexican". He "mad dogs" me now and I think that work is beginning to get fun. Just like high school was...

As soon as I get motivated to connect the scanner I will post some notes that have found me over the course of the last few weeks. That is unless baby comes like she has been threatening yet failing to do for the last two weeks. Until then, your friend in reflective safety yellow clothing.

Also, if you enjoy reading about other peoples work life I recommend this book:
Dishwasher: One Man's Quest to Wash Dishes in All Fifty States
It used to be a zine and now it's a book. I am enjoying the hell out of it.

Also, the links used in this post only serve to identify the items I am referring to. They are not meant to encourage you to utilize them anymore that you are motivated to do on your own.

I should hope that I never have that much influence over any ones life.

Again, glowing and reflecting in the predawn light.

Man Survives Garbage Truck Crushing. or ahh ha!

You would think that this guy would know better. Then again as you think you realize that the dude probably doesn't read the paper much seeing that he is homless and all.


(05-08) 09:19 PDT West Palm Beach, Fla. (AP) --

A homeless man who had fallen asleep in a trash bin to escape the rain was dumped into a garbage truck and survived being crushed repeatedly before a worker saw him.

Robert Baswell, 44, said he screamed as the load of trash was crushed against his body at least seven times and was sure he would die. He tried to cushion one blow from the truck's compressor with a dead opossum, he said.

"I screamed one last breath," Baswell told the Palm Beach Post. A trash collector finally saw him as he tossed in a box and called for help.

Firefighters spent almost a half hour pulling pieces of trash out by hand to free the man.

"I want to find this gentleman and have him buy my lottery tickets because he is one lucky dude," said West Palm Beach Fire Rescue spokesman Phil Kaplan.

Baswell, who had bedded down in a brush-filled trash bin Sunday night to get out of the rain, suffered broken legs and ribs.

"I'm so happy to be here, as bad as I'm hurt," he said.

"I eat pieces of shit like you for breakfast!"

This past week the guy I ended up being paired up with normally works a one man route but had gotten something in his eye and didn't feel safe driving. He did however feel safe wearing sunglasses at 4:30 am as we entered the basements of buildings in the fisherman's wharf area, he also felt safe putting perscription eye drops in his eye that had apparently expired and subsequently made his eyes sting. alot. Also, he did not move the truck once. Not once...

When the dispatcher told me who I would be working with he said "he is an uh... interesting guy..." and left it at that. When I saw him I had faint memories of other guys telling me he was nuts. He in fact turned out to be nuts. It got so bad I would spout off insane shit back at him and he would not even register that I spoke. His narration to his sunglassed life at 4am was that strong.

We were taking a break and reading copies of the Examiner that they literally just throw on random door steps. I had breezed through the paper not really very interested in the lower than tabloid crap they feel the need to print, I just wanted to keep working and get the fuck away, when my partner would read things to me with the reading skill of an inter city sixth grader and then pose questions like "what is your honest feelings about the veto and don't say anything that would make me think that you are lying" but imagine really long pauses in the middle of each word...

After that query we were off politics (which I try to stay away from after being asked I told a Chinese chain smoking Right wing nut that I supported gay marriage and thought that some limitations should be placed on who gets to own a and use a gun, he then told me though his FM head phones and filter less camel cigarette that I was a liberal and proceeded to tell other guys my views in the coming weeks, you oughtta hear what one other guy said back to him about my views on critical mass... two peas in pod), like I was saying off politics and on to the stimulating topic of entertainment. uh oh! looks like Boy George is in trouble again for tying up a male escort and trying to force his way inside uninvited. My partner and all his insight says that he never would have guessed that back in the 80's individuals like Michael Jackson, George Michael, Boy George and Prince would turn out to be gay. I suggested that he might want to remove his sunglasses because it was pretty obvious about all but Prince, he rambled on and in my efforts to ignore him I came up with this little puzzler:
BOY GEORGE MICHAEL JACKSON
and this banger too:
BOY GEORGE BUSH

Oh the fun never ends...
I ramble, I know.
It's casual.

Once we got back to work he began to talk to me very closely about "George Michael" spanking guys against their will and illustrating it on the lids of garbage cans and yelling very loud threats to them (the cans) as if they (cans again) were the male escort that Boy George wanted to gorge.

In three days this guy did and said some of the strangest shit I have ever seen and I am not talking Crispin Glover weird. This was some other shit.

Working alone can be good or bad depending on your mental state in the first place.

Oh, he was about 42 or so and made little sense if any at all.

Phsycology Today

Today in Cow Hollow (the neighborhood that is the financial warm up to the Marina) I found this little gem in a can above a MAC store:




There were two of them (get at me if you want the other one, seriously).
My favorite part is on the bill of the hat where it says "Toxin Type A", further rubbing peoples nose in what exactly (or not so exactly) they are willing to inject into their body to look/feel good. Just like tattoos! ("it's different though with tats bro cause this is like a bible cause of Jesus and stuff and this is like a crest of my family and this is an eagle for freedom and its all wrapped up in a tidy little blankie that makes me a unique individual") same shit different dollar/location. I hate my skin.

These shits are brand new and were sitting on top of a copy of Psychology Today along with a pharmaceutical company promo t-shirt printed on an American Apparel shirt. So much money to waste on people with so much money to waste.

Internuts!

Seriously, I hate the internet right now.
we have had the worst connection in the world the last month and a half.
It begins to feel like the lottery, or payday. Once one of notices that the airport has a green light we dash to our computers and pay bills, read the paper and scoff at the idea of wasting valuable time posting to a blog.

I almost quit this thing, then the internet went wonky and I began to feel as if it were out of my control therefore I could not simply quit the blog unless it was on my own standards.

In the next few weeks things may slow down due to the pending delivery of our little one, and they may not pick up until she moves out. So check back periodically. I will try to post at least a minimum of once a week after the baby leave is over (two weeks from delivery).

As I type this on a pirated connect from a neighbors apparent dial up connection my wife is ripping AT&T a new one. This tension she is displaying may speed up the forthcoming delivery of said child.

See you on the other side.

OOO that smell...

The truck I was on this past Thursday smelled alternately of Zesty Italian Dressing and dog shit.
I actually thought it was me for the first few hours. It is very possible.

Repetition is the master

Some days you see things that are baffling, like a purple acrylic finger nail stuck inside the weave of a discarded cowboy hat. Other times things come in patterns or they just set a them for you to follow. Today I threw away at least three terry cloth robs. There must be a calendar called "Out with the new me and in with the new me" that the assholes at Chronicle Books put out that has April 4th marked with some crazy font that its "Time to change that old terry cloth rob out for a new one day." I hate Chronicle Books. Really. Anybody want a "Day of the Dead" coffee mug? Why not?...

Shirly you must be joking?

I are not bad at founding this things.

Night time is the right time?

There are some drags to being new. The main is working in the morning from, say 4am to 10:30am and only getting a half hour nap in during the day under the assumption that you would be working the following morning and could "marathon" it until bed time at 8:30pm.

Upon calling in at 7:30pm (this is mandatory Sunday-Thursday) to get your route assignment for the following day you find out that after eating a huge dinner that you have to show up for the next days work at 9:30pm that night (it took me a long time to wrap my head around that one).

This happens more than I prefer.

I have learned that eating Ethiopian food or Indian food is not conducive to bending over or carrying huge sacks full of trash down 30 narrow stairs in the rain with no toilet in site. I have also learned that eating these rich foods are pretty much a guarantee that I will be working that night. Bummer.

On this particular evening of enchantment, after eating two substantial boca burgers and an entire bag of garlic fries I found myself whoring in Union Square.

Hanging off the back of the truck as we moved from pile to pile (garbage man slang for a group of cans) when I noticed what appeared to be a neatly dressed middle aged Asian woman talking up to the driver in the cab. The exchange was brief and he continued moving the truck up, time being so valuable at this job guys have little patience for chit-chat.
I hop off and start in on the cans. The lady then heads over to me and starts talking before she reaches me, she still looks neatly dressed but has that loon look in her eyes that I learned to spot growing riding a skateboard in the city.
I motion to her that i cannot hear her (these trucks are fucking loud. deaf by 40.), she then says:
"I want to give you something."
"Oh yeah, whats that?..."
"Put out your hand."
I show her my nasty ass glove thinking that she is bat shit and what she has to give me is a lit fire cracker or some shit. It could happen.
"No take that off, put this in your pocket"
"No, you put it in my hand" the glove is off by this point, yet she still tries to stick her hand in my pocket. Now I don't keep much in there but lip balm but I would prefer it if randoms would keep their hands out of my pockets uninvited. I grabbed her hand gently and told her to put "it" in my hand.
"Here." she says as she drops the tiniest piece of a reefer nugget ("nug"?) in my hand.
"It's for you and your partner, you work hard."
Did I mention she was wasted?
"No thank you ma'am, we cannot partake in this sort of activity."
"Not even at home?"
"Not even on the moon, they drug test us."
I placed the contraband back in her hand and told her to take some of the tobacco out of her cigarette and smoke that shit.
She began to walk away and stopped short, turned back and asked me "what do you call this stuff?"
I ran down the list as she walked away and slumped in a doorway where I assumed she would spend the rest of her bender.

Rough(age) draft

I was under the impression that I would be awarded an "excellence in Excrement" certificate if I were to crap on your desk...
You know, you really ought to update your employee handbook to avoid this confusion in the future Sir.

Terror attack survival kit

These hail from the same trash can.
I am sure that if I dug a bit deeper I would find spent No2 cartridges from weekend whippit binges as well. I figure you can imagine this individual pretty well without the incriminating evidence... then again what is all this?

Gurl...

This is pretty much how all my dates used to start.
I guess you can imagine how they used to end...

There are other pages to this song but they read like the rest of the "club bangers" (i.e. "shouting" out names of other rappers etc.) that are out there. So obviously I chose this jewel for its innovative lyrical content.

If I did..

Not that I do, but if I did work here (ahem, cough) this
is pretty much exactly what it is, or would be like. Only taller, much taller. thankyouverymuch.

p.s. some awesome found items updates coming your way, that is if your are still standing in front of this site waiting to be hit with it.