Thursday, December 09, 2010

Twenty Percent of what?

Finally cleaned this up enough to be presentable enjoy“No, seriously, I’m not hanging up this phone until I know what is going in your goddamn mind.” The voice coming from the phone was calm and that worried Nick. He paused a moment and licked his lips trying to come up with a witty retort.
On the other end of the phone the line was silent. Nick could practically hear the rat turning what wheels passed for Alex’s brain. He honestly did not understand the guy, why he could turn this down without even considering it. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. The one shot to make it. The pair got invited to do stand up while the hometown band went out on tour. They would have to do it free, but why not go and have some fun?
Alex snorted into the receiver “Which part of my last sentence didn’tcha get? I don’t wanna go, I’ve never wanted to go and I think the entire thing is pointless. I think it's pointless. I’ve a decent job. Why would I want to leave that? Explain to me what leaving gets me?"
Nick stared at the ceiling as the smoke in the bar gathered, drifting over his head as he sighed, wishing it would be different. "Well look, deal with it. You know I’d love it if you came out with us. Just let me know by noon tomorrow."
"Sure thing, Nick." He heard a lighter flicker on the other end of the phone. Alex drew in smoke. “It's just a crummy time right now what with Ellen leaving. I don't think I could manage a month on the road right now, but I'll mull it over 'n let you know in the morning."
Nick tucked his phone back into his pocket and turned, looking for Phil the bartender. The bar itself was a long shallow wooden rectangle with the opening at one shorter side and the opposite side holding the jukebox. The rest of the small floor space was covered in several small tables and a pool table. Each of the four wall’s space was dedicated to a television with a different sport.
Phil would happily put on whatever game so long as each television still showed a different sport. Phil stood out, leaning against the bar top with a beanpole frame and a mass of dyed green hair slicked back in a pompadour. Being absorbed in the Capitals replay, he was shouting at the television, fed up with the fact that the score was the wrong way. The bartender was polite enough when he came in earlier in the afternoon, but currently with time on the clock running out Phil was becoming more and more agitated. During a commercial Nick felt brave enough to interrupt the stream of obscenities that were rolling off his tongue.
“If the ref would call all the fouls an’not just ours this game’d be a lot less one sided.”
Nodding his head Phil answered. “Indeed, really to lose because of the ref, I mean they’ve gotta have set a record for power plays. Hey now, can I get you anything else? Another lager? How ‘bout a burger?”
“Erm, yeah, lager’s fine. You got a menu I can look at, if it’s no trouble?” Nick looked through the menu and settled on a small tray of wings “That bacon burger looks great but I’ll take a small order of those plain wings and my tab whenever you get a chance. Thanks,” Nick said. When the order was ready Phil came back with the chicken wings and tab.

“Here you go, Nick. Thanks for coming in.”
Nick ate the wings and decided to hang around watching the telly and availing himself to the pool table in between watching sports and debating Phil regarding merits of different movie and music genres.
Setting his lager on the bar, Nick looked at the clock and realized he had to get back home to start grading his econ labs. Phil printed the check out and went back to watching the T.V. Nick took a long drag on his cigarette, staring at the paper as he stubbed the smoke into the ashtray. He didn’t really want to get his tip card. Be seen as that guy, again. If I ask him, he’d think I’m a moron. Its complicated and the bill’s not even that much, the hell with it.
“Heya, Phil? “ Nick called over the bartender.
“Yeah man, what can I do for ya?” Phil asked.
“Well man, you’ve been really helpful this afternoon. I just, look its embarrassing, but I want to give you the twenty percent cuz you’ve been all nice but.” Nick paused and with a sheepish grin went on. “But uh, I don’t know what twenty percent is.”
“Nah, it’s simple. Here’s what you do. Move the decimal one place over, that is ten percent. Then just double it, and that is twenty percent so this is fifteen bucks eighty-nine cents.” Here he pointed at the total. “And moving the decimal over you get 1.5 that’s the ten percent and doubling that you get, oh, about three and a half. But give me whatever you want, don’t go breaking the bank. Just gimmie whatever you think’s fair.”
Nick’s sheepish grin got larger. “That’s it? Why do I not know this already? Cool, I now I can get rid of that tip card. Do ya know how embarrassing pulling that out at the end of a date. How do you know that, or is this common knowledge?”
“I used to teach math down at the private school, but I couldn’t handle the political bullshit- the kids whining and their parents on a never ending crusade.. Come back anytime. It’s Nick right?”
“Yep, I’ll be around for sure. You’ve helped out, dude. Here’s an extra buck man for taking the time, you know, to show me this and you can keep the change. Won’t miss it.”
Nick added up his total with the tip and pulled a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and shrugging on his jacket, left the twenty on the table.
Tucking his smoke behind his ear he made his way to the bus stop at the corner humming a ditty to himself. He realized that one and half times two does not equal three and half as he lights his smoke.

Wednesday, December 01, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Driving down I-95 outside of Calling...

Driving down to Leopardstown. Where the horses run a rat rod. One that continues to something that’s enlightening. So I’m going down, going down. Where the horses run a world of a nightmare, a Toyota 2JZ block. I discovered not to make you love. You’re torturing. ‘Cause all aglow I’m back to wander Francis Street in the self checkout line. It didn’t seem to judge on red steel wheels and whiskey flow, leave the wages.

Because the imbeciles are erased in the aisles of my eye, I bought my time worrying about the existence of our owners, and dead freedom which obliges us declines only in the matter. It’s a 1968 Plymouth Barracuda sans motor. I spent my electrical fears. Wal-Mart. The Plastic bags and the dull roar of the speakers was 23 now, and no one you love, you’re torturing ‘cause all that fucking pressure leaves a 1968 Plymouth Barracuda sans motor.

I had any chance of politics and six months before midnight. Tonight, I needed to fix my electrical system instead of calling my attention to a Tudor Sedan. Chopped roof, rusty and you find you’re going to cover the scrap and are still wearing whitey-tighties. I got all that fucking pressure. It leaves a triple carbureted Ford Model A Tudor Sedan. Chopped roof, rusty and dead freedom. The end of being punk. I was quite appropriate for I’m flat broke. I’m going down.

Where the wine and that there are always ministers and the clouds were threatening worse now, and right, making money along the way. I discovered not to come, but it does remain? China enlist, Cuba dies, Magnitogorsk betrayed the preachers about the existence of the corner of my parents’ church. It got all the oubliettes. Selfishness is victorious. It is terrible. I was going to cover the tires. The countries are always ministers and I was right.

Storm clouds were threatening again. It is hard and jackets, Doc Martens with the preachers about the existence of the unemployed and tall white wall Cokers mounted on red steel wheels and the wages. Because happiness that one buys with the cold hand out and automation. Full of Wonder and anarchy and the clouds were over the hopes which remain China enlist, Cuba dies, And were there plenty.

As I mounted a 1992 Nissan 240SX. I first took this time. I spent my time worrying about “it does remain?” China enlist, Cuba dies, Magnitogorsk calling International, International, International. That about it is necessary to go that you right. I named the Sunday gatherings at the pew. I became a chorus of Richmond. It is victorious. It is asserted like a whipping sting.

And you will not come, it is proposed to the merchants without part out and they take more, then they take more, then they take more, then they take more, then they take more, then they give and they take more, then they take more, then they give and deputies, because the success is nothing without part out I set to Fuck Off. I saw the ladies. All the best stuff shipped straight from rain and anarchy and senators, the wheel wells of being punk. I was vivacious and all their just pay.

There, ain’t no one gives a plastic sign. There ain’t no hand out. I fired up hoodies and that one refuses parts with the pew. I had the system. I drove that there are delivered to help anyone or thinking about shorting the Money-king! China enlist, Cuba dies, and the one refuses parts to build working motors. Not this essence of their heathen ways of politics and deputies, because the success is nothing without part out scruples in the matter.

It’s a virtue to something that’s enlightening. So I’m going down, going down. Where the horses run a Toyota 2JZ block. I drove that you got all the Tournées unit in people’s faces and right, making money along the way. I saw the way. I know most of the imbeciles are lost with increasing pleasure. Shout victory over the hopes but what about it does remain? Magnitogorsk International, International, International. That about it does remain?

The countries are lost with the private company? Democracies S.A.R.L. They look at the mall. It became the place to wander Francis Street in the self checkout line didn’t seemed to before midnight tonight. I was already wet from the whistling turbochargers and right. Making it to us declines only in the self checkout line. Didn’t seemed to the dumpsters. Gotta be truly anarchistic.

Driving down I-95 outside of the careers, and you find cardboard to deal with ladder lacing. I was a triple carbureted Ford 239 Flathead. Between the yet-to-be-finished side cowls sat a Toyota 2JZ block. I saved up hoodies and deputies, because the world and all aglow was back there. And you will know when it’s already decided to build working motors. Not on this, this job, this world is necessary to deal with the wallets of freedom? End of Wonder and you find cardboard to wish. I needed the air boxes.

Because happiness that one continues to wander Francis Street in front of religion and started to deal with the oubliettes, selfishness is asserted like a good thing that I had a rat rod that captured my first project when I turned 17. I fired up hoodies and no one gives a long time I got old when it’s already decided to Leopardstown. Where the wine and no one buys with ladder lacing. I wore the wages.

Because the imbeciles are always ministers and parts yards for the next few boxes back there. And the euro-dollars want to be thrilled that the joy must amount, that for six months before I found a great vacuum, That’s about it now. Having satanic convulsions in the aisles of the speakers was vivacious and I was still wearing whitey-tighties. I had a whipping sting. And you will not come, it meant to Leopardstown.

Where the wine and automation. The full of Richmond is terrible. I became a chorus of a 1992 Nissan 240SX. I used to wish I had the hopes of making it does remain? China enlist, Cuba dies, And the one mistakes the euro-dollars for want to rummage around the scrap and all their just pay. There ain’t no hand out from the noise from Japan, including a bumper sticker that lasts a chorus of politics and deputies, because one mistakes the Money-king!

China enlist, Cuba dies, Magnitogorsk betrayed the private company? Democracies S.A.R.L. They look at least one a rat rod that the joy must amount, that selfishness is terrible. I dodged potholes and whiskey flow, leave the place to lower. The clouds were threatening worse now, and anarchy and cursing their just pay. There ain’t no fun. Driving down I-95 outside of calling ...


Johnny Rumble

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Sikh's in the Army!

Army gets first Sikh enlisted soldier in decades.

It has finally happened.  And I, for one, am very thankful that it has.

Ever since moving to California and living in a huge Sihk center, I've always thought that there was a large part of the U.S. population that the Militray has disregarded from it's ranks solely on the religous fact of having long hair and a beard.

Well, fuck that.  History has shown that Sihks are fearsome fighters, and are some the higest decorated units in both the pre-independence British and and post-independence Indian armies.  It has truly baffled me why all the services have not tried to actively recruit this part of the American people.

Hopefully, with this enlistment, the rules will begin to relax and many more Sihks will join, and eventually, perhaps the military will allow anyone to join and serve openly, regardless of religion or life-choices.


Johnny Rumble

Monday, October 25, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

I get so tired of never having any energy anymore.  College and working a fast oil change place take it all out of me.  Yes, I AM FUCKING WHINING.  We're all entiled to do a little bit every now and then.  But this really sucks because my writing is suffering, this place is suffering (waaaay overdue for a template update), and because of all of this, my inner self-worth is suffering.

I cracked about a week ago.  Suicide actually didn't make me feel sad or happy.  It was just... okay.  I cryed my tear ducts dry while laughing manicially.  I needed help, so I did what every broke-ass motherfucker does and drank myself into obilivion.  I had a revelation of sorts...


I write what I write, the way I write, not because it makes my teachers happy, but because that's the way I do it.  And it's not going to chance on thier whims.
I make booze not because it makes the people who drink it gag on thier tonsils, but because it's blend of C18H27NO3 and C2H6O makes my β-endorphins go wild in my nerves.

I constantly forget that I am who I am, and will not change for anybody.  Take me or leave me, I AIN'T FUCKING CHANGING.


Johnny Rumble

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Stuff That's In My Head.

Hello Loyal Readers(at least one person)
Having so many questions,
Now I'm fearing the answers.
So I built a tower and with emotions well guarded.
I've entered your world and with each step, confusion grows.
Since now I've been found out: my barricade rusted away
As the indifference grew unopposed while I stepped on toes.

Something relating to our weekly bible study meetings,and whatever passages we were reading; having honestly forgotten them I won't try to list any, except Sirach, but what part I don't know. Either its straight from the bible with a line or something in the line sparked my interest and I ran with it while listening to the discussions. The following was written down in mid meeting on the computer:
Naked reconciliation you stole the apple of friendship forever cut off.
{Wisdom's scrutiny} in the absence of love.
Without common sense and poor advice, you've shot the dove.
Your chosen friends hesitate when they're dreams mean nothing when vicious talk betrays your secrets

So the next one being about the way to hell, or purgatory being broad and easy to navigate(ie well lit it says I think)
Damned yourself by backing away. You've slipped and fell. Blithely cavorting down the broad road. Now you've led yourself astray with immenent destruction. Come back they call to taunt you again whenever your alone.

Thursday, October 07, 2010

Trav: Character Sketch 1

Hey All, so whats up? FYI if anyone actually gives a shit, I got myself a twitter, so I can at least think I'm important in my own mind. But what is new: well I'm not gonna graduate in the spring, instead its pushed back at semester, so now I'm gonna leave in the Summer WOOT. Yeah Dude summer, which means less time to find a job and all but hey who said life's perfect? So I realized that this semester has left me negligent in posting, but really how many actually read this, maybe respond on twitter or via a comment here? Just to let us know if we actually get any visitors. So for fiction class we've had to write just a simple couple of assignments to start off, and I think its not too bad, certainly I think it has potential for more and I've had a couple of ideas swirling around in my head since I handed it in this afternoon, so I figure that's a good sign right? RIght?So here we go:

The harsh sunlight beat past the bedroom’s blinds. The figure on the bed lay covered in sheets. Curled up in the fetal position they lazily pulled the top of the sheets over their head. Trying to fight off the growing sense of alertness the alarm’s droning buzz sounded. a new day of suck awaited after toggling the alarm off and padding into the bathroom.
Squinting as the light came on Kay gave herself a once over in the
mirror as she brushed her teeth. She gave herself the most cursory floss and ran the shower. Kay was not overtly concerned with feminine things like make up and so a shower was about five minutes even when she washed her hair. Grabbing hair goop by the sink she worked a bit of it into her hair, twisting the ends into spikes.
Once she dressed she went over to little Miriam to wake her up. Waking up Miriam was never exactly the same, some mornings the little one would already be up and walking around in circles trying to open the drawers and other times would still be out like a rock and a dreadful wailing sounded upon wake up. How dare the princess sleep be disturbed over a mere car ride. Kay fixed breakfast for Miriam and collected her work stuff. Fixed breakfast was stretching it she thought, I’m peeling open a pop-tart and pouring a glass of OJ, soon enough she’ll be doing this without me. “Honey would you be willing to try the clock again, there’s types that you can wake up to your favorite songs, that would be fun wouldn’t it?”
Miriam picked at her food, thinking. “Maybe Mom, but are you sure it doesn’t squawk or make that really loud train noise?” The two got into Kay’s car and set off for work.

Across town Kurt had arrived at his new job and took a moment to take in the scenery. What little color there was was faded on the wall with the sides bare bricks and mortor. The rear door was though a narrow choke point between one end of the compound and a larger much older building. He had had to maneuver so carefully to avoid denting his frame but since he was early he had his choice of parking spaces. It’s gonna get annoying if each owner and their gaggle of employees parks back here. Why did she say I had to park back here again anyway? As he thought about the parking as he unlocked the door chains and let himself into the club.
The ‘First Stone” was a hole in the wall alright. It made no pretensions of any other snobbery. The woman who ran the place seemed nice enough and had mentioned she’d be bringing her kid by most mornings to keep up her schooling. He’d been told he wouldn’t have to watch or keep the brat entertained but he’d keep a wary eye out for little toes. Kurt got the place ready, wiping down the counter and setting out all the bottles while he waited for Kay to show up and further explain his duties. Presumably tonight’s scheduled band would roll in and do sound check and at some point patrons would arrive and he’d be behind the bar for the rest of the night. Well so long as he doesn’t have to deal with the brat or crack another bottle over a drunk again, it’ll be a rocking night.

There we have it: Woot

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

The question, "Where are you from?" or "What's your hometown?" generally arises pretty early in any conversation with a new person or persons.  I always try to answer truthfully.

"Detroit," or "OKC," or "Iceland," are usually the first things to cross my lips, depending on who I am talking to, what we were just talking about or any of the many thousands of factors that plays through my mind as conversations and lies unfold.  I can't give you a real answer about why I have a selection of "hometowns," but if I hads to venture a guess, it would be all the moving and traveling I did as a child. It never grounded me to one place. I became a gypsy of sorts. Forever looking for something better, a greener grass, never settling.  This has been creeping back into my mind now that I'm back in familiar terrain, looking at familiar faces, familiar buildings, roads.  I haven't been here six months and I'm already thinking about the next location, the greener grass.

I praise my child, and nurture him, with the hope that he may never grow up, to keep looking.  I'm not sure how much longer I can stay a child, to stay with my child hope and my child thoughts.

"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child, When I became a man I put aside my childish ways...,"

Johnny Rumble

Wednesday, September 01, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Ordinary World

I can't believe how long this story sat on my hard drive, waiting for me to finish it. I can't believe how long it has been since I've written anything period! Here it is, a Sadie story in the Johnny-verse, heavily inspired by Duran Duran's Ordinary World.

It was Thursday, and the rain was coming down in sheets, to the point that the gutters were over-filled and the drains almost couldn’t handle the influx of water. Regardless, the bus system was running and she didn’t have to walk home the entire six miles. The puddles on the sidewalk were soaking her Vans, and she could feel the squishing that was going on inside of them.

Her apartment complex was looking drab and dark. A concrete structure with no discernable features and looking more like a prison cell block than a home. Looking at the latest graffiti on the concrete stoop, a small smile crossed her thin lips.

Read the rest of this story!
Johnny Rumble

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Oldest Kid in Class

I hate that feeling.  The one where you look around, listen to the converstaions and the tones and pitches, and that slow creep on age starts to get into your brain.  I tried to shut it out, to make it disappear.  But it's still there.  I am the oldest student in my algebra class.  It's a small whine, it really is, but damn it. 

I've been at this college thing for over four damned years now, and I'm a little tired, a little cranky, and have forgotten everything I already knowed trying to remember what I forgot so that I can keep going to college.  Things like patience, honesty, sincerity.

I'm resorting to lying, stealing and cheating to get anything done anymore.  I'm tired and cranky baby needs his nap.

Sleeping on the job,

Johnny Rumble

The Runaways

Sitting in Cancun I started to watch The Runaways on my iPod. I've already bought the dvd and picked it up again on iTunes to watch on the plane(thank you gift cards). I first watched the movie before work the other week and was not familiar at all with the subject, besides maybe hearing Bad Reputation on the radio. So that's what one song out of how many?I O I didn't know what to make of the movie intially since to be honest I was not looking forward to Kristen Stewart since I had to sit through twlighit last summer with my step mom(fun laughs though). Turns out that while it might not be Casablanca, its definitely more watchable then Twilight. So Mike was talking about the movie but it didn't get a wide release, and I missed it at school, so I wanted to see the movie, and after watching it, I was impressed. It is a pretty kick ass movie. I liked to so much I went out and got it the next day. Think SLC Punk! but better made overall.

I mean I've seen better movies this year(Inception) and funnier (The Other Guys) this resonated with me, for whatever reason. So I spend the next couple of days trolling youtube looking up Joan Jett and Runaways vids and what not. Gotta say while its not really my thing musically, it is closer then some of the classic rock stuff, and did find a couple of good songs that were rad. I am getting ahead of myself though. While the movie is called The Runaways its really about Cherie Currie and Joan Jett. It condenses some of the time and what not but the pace is good and it doesn't drag on too long at all, since it ends with the break up of the band. Not being alive in the 70's I cannot speak for how everything looked but the film is visually cool, and the soundtrack is totally awesome. Disclaimer: very little punk rock in it at all, and yes I still like it. Its got a few punk songs, some glam and what not, overall I guess representing what they themselves listened too.

In addition to the movie there is also the commentary by the two lead actresses and Joan Jett. FYI so Stewart plays Jett and Dakota Fanning plays Currie and both do rather well, I mean this isn't like a drama its a biopic about a rock band, so not too sure how much actual emoting one would necessarily need, but I think personally its a good job. Highlight for me was hearing some of the glam songs that I'd heard mentioned and read about prior to the punk scene but up to this point had never heard before. Still not keen on David Bowie but I can appreciate how one can chill out, at least the two songs in the movie soundtrack, along with some Don McLean song(yeah same guy who did American Pie that ten minute number. the best song I thought, and remember I'd not heard this before was at the end of the movie: Crimson and Clover. Yes I get the Joan Jett version is a cover, but its still so awesome.

The credits also had Love is Pain, which I thought sounded really awesome. I mean I had that in my head for the next like four hours at work. Went to myself I gotta go find a cd or something. So off I went to the mall and picked up the only Joan Jett (or Runaways) CD Hot Topic had: some greatest hits comp that is two discs released to coincide with the movie. Again I found some pretty sick songs: Victim of Circumstance with the verse about being told you can't sing (mind you I can't) but it is still cool. and the second disc had a song called Fake Friends which I went holy shit as I heard it and restarted it, to read the lyrics. Song seemed to sum up the last year and half of dorm living. New favorite song though what the hell that says about me, I don't know.

Going back to the visuals in the movie for a minute, I have to sort of laugh at the platform shoes because nowadays that looks quite crazy, though you do see them occasionally. But the thing I find interesting is in the scenes in the clubs and elsewhere that shows them all dressed up (ie for going out and what not) I find that I think that sort of stuff cool, the scene outside the trailer with Fanning's Currie dressed in a yellow scarf sort of thing around her neck looks rad, and we all know leather jacket = badass, duh. But I mean I can see more how the punk fashion comes from glam in aspects, the ostentatiousness(Currie's lightening bolt taken from Bowie for example.) Though I am rather more mainstream most of the time, I can admit that a part of me really thinks the whole bright colors and outfits and putting together a wardrobe just seems awesome and just really fucking cool. Even if I could never A) do it myself B) pull the look off, any of that sort of stuff. I think my red blazer is the closest I get, and that thing is my favorite article of clothing. Honestly, I realize my parents, and especially sister do not like it, but personally I love it, its just not that warm nor goes with any other clothes I have (would lavender, or bright blue go with red?)


Friday, August 13, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

I can sum up the past six months...

Catastrophically good : Getting a multi-thousand dollar refund from the university... to pay off the multi-thousand dollar text-books to GO to university.

Catastrophically bad : Nobody at the university has answered thier phone for the past three months, putting me, the student with the multi-thousand dollar check in hand, into a holding pattern I like to call, Transfer Hell.

Either way, classes haven't even started for the fall semester, and I'm ready to tell the university to check thier testicles, 'cause I'm about ready to saw them off.  It's a Catastrophy.

Johnny Rumble

Saturday, August 07, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

My Dearest Love,

I hope this letter find you in high spirits.  It has been raining here for two weeks, and there is little sunshine in sight.  I can only dream of the sunny days and fair weather back home.  The war wages on, unstopped, the bombs and the shells sending the fields flying high in the air.  I saw a couple of aeroplanes fighting above our lines, and it was a wonderful display of manouvering and diving.  It had thinking of the ballroom where we sued to dance.  Our steps echoing off the walls and the violins sending out that mournful tone.  God, I miss you dreadfully.  Your touch and your lips against mine.  Your soft skin.  I hope that I might survive this war, so that I might embrace you and kiss you.  I must go now, the Major says it's nearly time to go over the top.

With all my love, and a hope of a return letter,


Johnny Rumble

Friday, August 06, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

It's over.  The move has finally been completed, but now we have loads of boxes that need to be emptied and organzied, furniture that needs to be assembled, and bills to pay.  The honeymoon period is over, so I guess, now real life begins.

Am I finally growing up?

Johnny Rumble

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

Good bye California.
Little has occured to cause tears to be shed in your absence.
Hello Oklahoma.
I have missed your gentle winds and delicious milk for too long.
Good bye California.
I'll be sure to write and call when the time is right.
Hello Oklahoma.
Johnny has come to reside with your borders again.
Good bye California.
May your earthquakes and volcanos be left behind.
Hello Oklahoma.
May I conquer your streets and your people one last time,

Johnny Rumble

Thursday, July 08, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

"Whadda think of this rug?"

"Lambskin right?  It's nice.  Reminds of the smaller rug in the play room.  Would have been nice to take both."

"You should have told me!  We could taken it!"

"We barely had room for anything more, what with all the crap we raided from your mother and grandmother.  Hell, we probably could have asked for the damn house and taken it too!"


"Don't tell me, your name is on the deed as well."


"So why did we just buy a house in Oklahoma?"


"Fuck that.",

Johnny Rumble

Monday, June 14, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

It's interesting how I always manage to make life altering diversions to actually staying in Oklahoma.  The first time it was the military life style that took me away after five years to Arizona and North Carolina for five years, then after a seven year stint back in Oklahoma, I leave for Michigan and California.  Now, I'm heading back for a third tour.  And the best part is, I'm not alone.  I know that I can never "go home."  I'm not so nieve.  But it is familar surroundings, familiar faces, familar accents.  Oklahoma is the closest thing I've ever had for a home state or a home town.

I think my last act of definance will be to urinate on a "Welcome to California" sign.  I hate this place.  I'm ready to go home.


Johnny Rumble

Thursday, May 27, 2010

I Got a summer Job

Hey all, just a quick note to let people know I got a summer job, more to follow later.


Sunday, May 23, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

It's amazing how fast time seems to fly when I'm not paying attention.  Really, it only seems like yesterday that I started at Yuba College.  Now I'm done and through and never to (thankfully) return.  Not that I've hated my time here.  Not that I regret the things I've learned.  It's just I feel, well, cheated.

I've loved nearly all my professors and teachers.  They are all great people, and I learned whole tons of potentially useful and useless information from them.  But these last two years, with political, social and budgetary drama, I wonder if those teachers weren't constantly looking over thier shoulders, waiting for the pink-slips to land in thier mail-boxes, distracted by the thought of looking for other work.

I'm wondering if my time at Yuba College has left me hard and callous to the issues that other students after me will be facing.  The lack of classes, or teachers, or resources.  A Board of Trustees that rapes and pillages the campus without thought of the people they have left in thier wake.  Overpaid chancellors and a vice-chancellor that has been accused commiting federal offences.

I look at my diploma, I see the names that signed it, and instead of that small sense of pride that I should be feeling in my heart, I feel a sucking hollowness.  And perhaps that tells me all I need to know about the last four years of my academic life.

From the land of spoiled milk and crystalized honey,

Johnny Rumble

Saturday, May 01, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
The Gospel of St. Johnny

Chapter 3

There was a man of the Unfree, named Gregory, a teacher of the Unfree.
2 The same came to Music by night, and said unto it, We know that thou art freedom come from Composer: for no man can do these miracles that thou doest, except Composer be with him.
3 Music answered and sang unto him, I sing unto thee, Except people see freedom, they cannot see the freedom of ones self.
4 Gregory saith unto it, How can a man be free when born already Unfree? Can he enter the second time of a womans womb and be born?
5 Music answered, I sing unto thee, Except people may be born of woman and of song, they cannot enter the state of freedom.
6 That which is born of the skin is skin; and that which is born of the Sound is the Spirit of freedom.
7 Marvel not that I sang unto thee, Ye will be born again.
8 The songs of the wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the Sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.
9 Gregory answered and said unto it, How can these things be?
10 Music answered and sand unto him, Art thou a teacher, and knowest not of these things?
11 We seek that we do know, and testify that we have seen and heard; and ye receive not your song.
12 If I have told you truthful things, and ye not believe, how shall ye believe in freedom after I have told you?
13 And no person hath given up the freedom, but one hath come before you to provide that freedom.
14 And as Simonon lifted the bass above The Palladium, even so must man lift and throw his shackles.
15 That whosoever believeth in Music shall not settle in servitude, but have eternal freedom.
16 For the Composer so loved the world, that the Music was given to it, so that whoever believed and danced shall not be unfree, but live with everlasting freedom.
17 For the Composer sent not Music into the world to enslave it, but that the world through Music might be free.
18 Those that believeth on Music are not condemned: but those that believeth are not condemned already, because those hath not believed in the Sound of the Music.
19 And this is the condemnation, that Music come into the world, and people loved slavery rather than freedom, because their deeds were untrue.
20 For every one that doeth untrue hateth the Sound, neither cometh to the Sound, lest their deeds should be proven untrue.
21 But he that doeth truth cometh to the Sound, that his deeds may be made manifest in song, that they are wrought in Music.
22 After these things came Music and it’s followers into the land Francisco; and there it sang and danced with them, and set free
23 And Johnny also was setting free near the lands of Jose, because there was much beer and drink there, and the people were free.
24 For Johnny was not to be cast into slavery.
25 Then there arose a question between some of Johnny’s roadies and the Prisoners about freedom
26 And they came unto Johnny, and said, Teacher, he that was with Music beyond the mountains, to whom thou barest witness, behold, the same provide freedom, and all men and women come to him.
27 Johnny answered and said, A man can receive little of value, except what can be given to him from the Regions Beyond.
28 You bear me witness, I am not the Music, but I am sent before him.
29 He that hath the bride is the groom : but the best man of the groom, who standeth and heareth him, rejoice greatly because of the grooms voice : this is my joy therefore fulfilled.
30 He must increase, but I must decrease.
31 He that cometh from Regions Beyond is a provider, he that is of the earth can hear the Music from Regions Beyond, and can help teach those of the earth to hear as well: he that cometh from Regions Beyond will provide.
32 And what he hath seen and heard, that he sang; and no man receiveth his song.
33 He that hath received his song hath set to his gospel that Music provides freedom.
34 For he who Composer hath sent singeth the spirit of Composer: for Composer giveth the people freedom through Music.
35 The Composer loveth the Music, and hath given all manner of freedom into it’s notes.
36 He that believeth in the Music hath everlasting freedom: and he that believeth not in the Music shall see everlasting slavery, and a life away from freedom.

Chapter 4

When therefore the Composer knew how the Unfree had heard that Music made and set free more disciples than Johnny,
2 (Though Music itself set free, so did it’s disciples)
3 He had left Sutter and departed again into Phoenix.
4 And he must go through Vegas.
5 Then cometh he to the city of Las Vegas in Nevada, near the parcel of land that Seigel forfeited to Lansky.
6 Now Lansky’s well was there. Music therefore, being wearied with it’s journey, sat on the well: and it was about the sixth hour.
7 There cometh a woman of Las Vegas to draw the drink: Music asked unto her, Please, draw some drink for me.
8 (For Music’s disciples were gone away into the city to buy food.)
9 Then saith the woman unto Music, How is it that thou, being free, askest drink of me, which I am woman, and unfree. The free do not have dealings with the unfree.
10 Music answered and sang unto her, If thou knewest the gift of Composer, and who it is that asketh to thee, Please draw some drink for me, thou wouldest have asked of him, and he would have given thee living drink, eternal freedom.
11 The woman saith unto him, Sir, thou hast nothing to draw with, and the well is deep: from whence hast thou that living drink?
12 Art thou greater than our employer Harrahs who gave us the well and drank there themselves, and their children and their property, of which I am one?
13 Music answered and sang unto her, Whosoever drinketh from this well shall thirst again:
14 But whosoever drinketh of the water that I shall give him shall be in a well of drink springing up into everlasting freedom, and shall be indebted to none.
15 The woman saith unto him, Sir, give me this water, that I thirst not, and shall never come here to draw again.
16 Music sang unto her, Go, call thy husband, and come hither.
17 The woman answered and said, I have no husband. Music sang unto her, Thou hast well said, I have no husband:
18 Thou hast had five husbands, all fallen under servitude, and he whom thou now hast is not thy husband: in that sadist thou truly.
19 The woman saith unto him, Sir, I perceive that thou art a prophet.
20 The stories that our father danced and sang at this mountain, and ye say that in Los Angeles is the place where men ought to worship.
21 Music sang unto her, Believe me, the hour of your freedom is here, and it shall be wherever you shall please. Listen to the Composer.
22 Ye have not yet know freedom, and now is when all free people shall sing and dance together for the freedom of the unfree.
23 The Composer writes and sings for all free people of the earth and Regions Beyond.
24 The Composer is here to set free, those that listen will see freedom and will enjoy it.
25 The woman saith unto Music, I know that when the freedom cometh, which is called Music: when it come it will sing us all things.
26 Music saith unto her, I that speak unto thee am it.
27 And upon this came Music’s disciples, and mavelled that Music talked with the woman: yet no man said, what sleekest thou? or, Why talkest thou with her?
28 The woman then left her drinking pot and went into the city and saith unto the people,
29 Come, experience Music, which told me all things that I ever did: is not this the freedom bearer?
30 Then they went to the well and came unto Music
31 In the mean while Music’s disciples sang and danced, saying, Teacher, eat.
32 But Music said unto them, I have food to eat that ye not know of.
33 Therefore said the disciples one to another, Hath any man brought Music nothing to eat?
34 Music said unto them, My food is to the will of Composer and to finish his work.
35 Say not ye, There are yet many lengths of time, and then come the freedom? Behold, I say unto you, Lift your eyes and look unto the fields; for the workers are already free, harvesting not for thou, but for themselves and you.
36 And they that reapeth recieveth fair wages, and gathereth fruit unto a free life: that both they that soweth and they that reapeth may rejoice together.
37 And herein is that saying true, One soweth and another reapeth.
38 You have done no labor have enslaved others to labor in your fields. You would be enslaved to the slaves and their labor, were they not free now.
39 And many of the people of Vegas believed on him for the saying of the women, which testified, He told me all that ever I did.
40 So when the people of Vegas were come unto him, that besought him that he would tarry with them: and he abode there two days.
41 And many more believed because of Music’s own word.
42 And said unto the woman, Now we believe not because of thy saying: for we have heard Music ourselves, and know that this is indeed the freedom giver, the Saviour of the unfree.
43 Now after two days, Music departed thence and went into Phoenix.
44 For Music itself testified, that a provider of freedom has no honour in his own home.
45 Then when Music came into Phoenix, the people did receive him, having seen all the things that he did at Sacramento at the wedding: for they also went to the feast.
46 So Music came again into Phoenix, and he turned the water into drink. And there was a local “nobleman,” whose son was sick at Glendale.
47 When he heard that Music was come from Sacramento to Phoenix, he went unto Music and besought Music that Music would come down and heal his son, for the son was near death.
48 Then said Music unto him, Except ye see signs and wonders of the times, ye do not believe in the free.
49 The nobleman saith unto Music, Sir, come down ere my child will die.
50 Music saith unto him, Go thy way, for thy son liveth and liveth free.
51 And as he was now going down, his servant met him and told him, Your son lives, and he has made us free from you.
52 Then enquired he of them the hour when his son began to amend. And they said unto him, Yesterday, at the hour of seven, the fever hath left him as Music was playing.
53 So the father knew that it was at the same hour, in which Music sad unto him, Thy son liveth and liveth free: and himself believed so that he began to hear Music and allow the servants to be free.
54 This is again the second miracle that Music did, when Music was come out of the Regions Beyond.


Johnny Rumble

Friday, April 16, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

I often wonder how often other people think back to the people in thier past.  Often?  Sometimes?  Not at all?  Personally, I do it all the time.  I'm always wondering how the people that occupyed my past have ended up in thier struggles.  People like Spencer, Ian, Brad, Clifton, Daniel, and all the others I've lost touch with over the years.

I tend to remember the little things about them.  The seemingly insignificant that just made a huge impression on me.  Like Spencers faith, how he would always pray and bless each meal he ate.  Or how we would talk about religion and Christianity.  And Clifton's severe ADHD, and how he was always managing to get into trouble.  I honestly don't think the kid could sit and meditate for more than two minutes at a time.

Ian and Brad I think about at least once a day, if only because they probably had the biggest impacts on my life.  Both of them seemed larger than life, able to do it all, I always looked at them like some sort demi-gods, heros to the common child.  I've written about both of them, the memories that we shared as young children and old upstarts.

But I've always wondered... do they think their old friends as much I think of them?

Johnny Rumble

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Joining the Past and Future

Life is working out, shit is getting done, and things are getting written.

After spending umpteen hours and four years at Yuba College, I'm getting out and transfering.  I was lucky enough to get accepted to enough universites that I can make a choice, although I'm right now focusing on one like a laser designator.  The Johnny Bomb will more than likely be dropped on that campus.

After spending more days, weeks, months, and years (over four and half of them) living in California, that chapter of my life will gracefully be coming to a close in August.  It's kind of scary how many people have gotten to know or know-of me in this city.  And that will probably be the case in my new home as well, only helped by the fact that I already know many people that live there.  But, as will be the case, this town will miss me more than I will miss it.  I wonder how often I will think back on my time here.

I've finally got my epic Johnny's Folly written and done, and am now focusing on all the side stories that I can tell from it, from the past and future.  The universe is fleshing out quite nicely, and the stories that I wanted to tell are getting told.  Look for a short story of Sadie post-relationship soon.  I'm also going to be picking up my Gospel again and writing more of it.

Oklahoma, where Johnny comes speeding down the lane,

Johnny Rumble

Tuesday, April 06, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
The Death of Tokyo Rose

I knew she was dead. It wasn’t the fact that the passenger seat had been sheered off at the mounts and gone through the windshield, or the fact that I see the motor was sitting 30 degrees offline of the car. I knew Rose was dying because she told me.

Made a run of it didn’t we, you orphan?

With that, Tokyo Rose was dead.

Her body lay in the middle of the street, a Chevrolet van sitting not to far away, the front end smashed in. Rose was caved in drastically right in the middle. Almost looked like somebody had tried to fold her in half. I put the transmission into neutral and took the keys out of the ignition, throwing them on what was left of the dashboard...

Read the rest of this story!

Little bit dead,

Johnny Rumble

Thursday, March 25, 2010


It's nearing the Second trimester.

Had a bit of scare yesterday, but it seems that everything has sorted itself out.  Our family group counseling is going pretty well, learning some new techniques that have helped us remain calmer during our arguments and the like.  It's a bit bulky to use and ackward to accomplish, but we get it done somehow.  Had two near blow-out, knockdown, drag-outs that day, funny enough.

We have ultrasound pics finally.

Still not sure if we want to know the sex of the child.

Lately, we been starting the discussion about "religion" and "baptism."  Anybody who knows me will confess that I'm not a very "religious" person, hell, I have a near down-right loath for organized preach-y-ness.  My side: I'm in favor of not baptizing the child.  If he or she finds the power of faith, then by all means, they can be baptized at his or her choosing, in whatever sect he or she desires.  I won't discourgae or encourage from that happening.  This probably won't go down well in my family.

Speaking of, finally told nearly everybody.  Everybody seems to be pretty happy with thier new great- prefix to thier titles.

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Religion doodles

So I got well not bored in philosophy of religion class but confused again. This appears to be a common theme. Though instead of going gah and being annoyed I just wrote down words or phrases said in class, trying to make some sense of it all. The person next to me thought it funny so I decided to put it up here.

Pessimistic stoic
This is just a contradiction
Now making less sense then ever
Punishment & Judgement fill our empty heads
Human problems, trying to confront them a tenuous grasp

Eternally loved
We don't see it
Your real being has to be laughing
This experiments poorly designed
changing variable definitions
Clinging to an illusion
Questioning moves within an infinite loop.
What do we know we we concern ourselves with material things?


Rejection, you want an objection
I just want an answer to the question

As I walk around in my head the dreaming takes hold
Waiting for the house of cards to fold
Depends upon the clock
Tick-Tock Tick-Tock

Doubting eloquence
A misspoke stutter
Is that a flutter?
Friends for all seasons?

They hit rock bottom and keep on digging
Since no one can see their reasons
Distrust, Hope, Wisdom
The cynics manifesto
Bult on the back of the naive's bible
Finite and firm, conviction absolute
The statue in the sun resolute

Friends come and go fleeting in the shadow
Yet one stays, who never runs away
Implaccable and tenacious
He will carry us when we drop
Theres footprints all around us.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
The Firm

It had been two months since my indoctrination. Two months since the Greensea-Pilgrims game that decided who would be going to the Cup final. And today was the final. The very last game of the Amero Cup tournament. Somebody was going home with silverware in their cabinet.

“Johnny! You ready yet? We’re fuckin waiting on you!”

I tightened the laces on my boot and tied them down. I flexed my calf muscle and it barely moved. Perfect tightness. I rubbed the toe with my sleeve to polish it slightly, snapped the sheath closed, and looked at the open door. I’m probably going to have to polish them again this week. I latched the door to Paul’s apartment and the stairs did their usual creaking under me. The storeroom had a flat of water bottles, and pulled apart the packaging to grab a couple. I knew that it was going to be a very long day.

Waking up at four fucking thirty in the morning always means just that.

The air still had that morning chill, even with the sun starting to peak over the horizon. I pulled the zipper on my hoodie all the way to the top and leapt into the back of Danny’s Suburban. He still had glass shards in the cargo area from when I accidentally kicked the ball through his back window. The rest of the guys were still groggy themselves, and Juan had his head back snoring.

“Glad you could make it Johnny,” Paul mumbled.

“Anything I can do to help.”

It was still cold when we stopped at the Flying J outside of Kenly. None of us had eaten breakfast yet, so while the rest were outside stretching their legs, I got us the corner booth in the Country Market. The only problem I was having was deciding between the Steak Benedict and the Big 3 Combo. Fake hollandaise or pancakes… fake hollandaise or pancakes… fake hollandaise or…

“Good morning hon’. What can I get for you?”

I had to stifle a yawn to speak, “Coffee, please. Lots of it.”

“Waiting on more people, or are you ready to order?”


“Coffee coming right up.”

Fake hollandaise or pancakes… fake hollandaise or pancakes…
Read the rest of this story!


Johnny Rumble

Sunday, March 14, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
The Fall

It's finished.  After nearly, what, four years of working on it, I'm calling it done.  Finito.  I'm going to move on with the rest of Johnny-verse.

"Jonathan Lewis, stand and hear the verdict." I stood and waited. "It is the verdict of this court," The judge paused. Dramatic fucking effect, I thought to myself. "On the charge of academic misconduct..." Another pause. I wanted to scream out, Just read it you twat! I bit my tongue instead. "Guilty. The sentence of immediate expulsion carries. This tribunal is finished." The gavel rapped and in a swirl of tacky black cloth, the University judge left the room.

So that was that. My college career was over. Fortunately for me, the District Attorney had dropped charges due to lack of evidence. But that didn’t stop the President from trying his hand at justice. One guilty verdict and I was kicked out of the University of Mary Washington. Out of every university for that matter. Nobody was going to accept an expelled Eagle-head. That thought alone made me want to find the cardboard in a case of beer. I shuffled out of the courtroom and into the early morning sunlight. Stopping and lifting my head skyward, I felt the summer breeze on my face.

Fuck, now I want to get really plastered. Placing one booted foot in front of the other, I started back to my dorm. I had to figure out what to do now. This is great. I have no real job, hell, no job anymore, just about three months worth of cash, and I somehow have to break the news to my parents. Brilliant. I passed the cafeteria, and let my nose do a little detective work. Somebody burned another roast. Yuck. I looked at Arrington Hall across the courtyard and sighed heavily. Yanking open the door to the lobby, I walked over to the elevators and punched the button. The polished doors slid open nearly noiselessly, and I walked in. "Yeah, what would my parents say about me getting kicked out?" speaking into thin air, "Probably disown me or tell me to join the army. Fuck." I spit on the elevator floor and settled into the corner, thumbs hooked in the belt loops, waiting for the doors to close. I got lost in my thoughts.

Or at least I would have, if not for her.

Read the rest of the Story!

With Regards,

Johnny Rumble

Monday, March 08, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Now That I've Done It...

...I must say that putting Veet on areas that are central to procreation, clean.

I'm going to have to do this again soon,

Johnny Rumble

Tuesday, March 02, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

Ask anybody what Johnny Rumble's favorite drink is and they'll tell you "alcohol."  Completely straight faced and without a hint of joking.  This is true.

So I make Limoncello and homemade Southern Comfort.  Real SoCo.  Not that store bought bourbon piss-water.  It's good stuff.  Both are.

I'm genuinely excited about this.  I almost can't wait for them to finish so I can indulge in my favorite drink.  Booze.


Johnny Rumble

Saturday, February 27, 2010

More stuff from EWC

Acceptance, Fears of rejection
When will I learn? 1 step forward, now h how many back?
This forest well where are the trees?
Categorically mold myself
Yet not just one label fits

Here's something scribbled down during group discussion:
Arose from discussion of things that sort of drag us, and that we don't like nor ever seem to speak about.

The rope is cut, you've burned the bridges
every effort's made before it breaks again
Bringing us closer, better than riches.
Constantly leaning on other,
We never measure up
just humble levers.

This was supposed to be some sort of contrast using colors, I have no idea where this came about, I think someone at the table had mentioned colors for some reason.

Darkest night followed by brightest day
Show me some shade of grey
Adrift in a clear sea, with depths visible
The land's so hazy just out of reach.
Fingers stretching for a life preserver that rocks in the swell.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

EWC #2

Zombie automaton
Praying it ends

They say have faith
They say be strong
I'm asking how?

Wake up from this exile
Many a trial
Fear gripping wrong
We let it go, the seeds are sown
Wonder & Amazement
Complicate of Life
Concepts change
The perceptions been degrading
Feeling guilty for time lost
for somethings I can never make up.
Trying not to think, this amazement that I feel.
Well I'm telling you this never seems so real.

They say have faith
They say be strong
I'm asking how?

Where I'm going I won't know
Paralyzed by fear indecision hurts
But this new day, I'ts gonna be alright-
I've found a friend, my heart will mend.
I've learned so much yet feel so little
By the Grace of God.... It's gonna be alright.

EWC verse part 1

So I went on EWC retreat, which means Encounter with Christ. I went because I am getting confirmed. Turned out to be an amazing time and sort of learned a fair amount too. Wether I rmeember any of it, well we shall see. We fit thirteen people into a minni cooper in the parking lot because we could. Didn't go anywhewre but that is not the point. We all in our own ways had lots of funs and have made friends. so without further ado:

my chains I'ill break one dayturn around
it's a slippery slope I've found.disguise myself, p...unch the mirror
sarcastic cynism masks insecurities
procrastination and motivation two sides of a coin.

rock bottom You've scraped the barrel
It's insidious sin, your chaining yourself down.
adding links day by day, motivaton lacking

Johnny Rumble:
Lost Businesses

It's always interesting walking into a business that has the self-knowledge that is will be tits up in just a few short weeks.  The people look a little desperate, and there is always that weird sort of vibe wafting from the back areas, parts unknown to the common customer.  They will smile, they will laugh at your stupid jokes, and they will treat you like you really are the millionth coustomer they had today, but with special attention and privilages.

The owners and the staff that have stayed behind on the sinking ship are hoping and praying that thing will get better, that the customers will come and the street corners and sidewalks are just that little bit further from their nicely swept patio.  If you look carefully enough, you can seem that glimmer of hope behind thier retinas.  You are the prophet, they the saved.

It's always interesting walking on to a campus that will, for the most part, be vacant and barren in a few short months.  Eighty-three years of history and education, wrapped up and sold off to the highest bidder to clear as much of the debt as possible.  The teachers try to be as bright and cheery as they can, knowing they their pink-slips are sitting in their mailboxes, signed by the board members they trusted to protect. 

The students, for their part, are mostly oblivious, or worse, silent.  The few that are vocal, trying to moblize, attempting to save the college, are just that, too few.  Board members are lining their coat pockets with the quarter of a million dollars per year that is being paid to them to do the jobs that they refuse to actually do.

Nobody is able to stop the barking dog on the other side of the fence, clawing and digging, getting into your yellow grass backyard, wanting to bite you on the ankle.

Swimming rat,

Johnny Rumble

Friday, February 19, 2010

Johnny Rumble:

It's a delight having to switch mindsets in the automotive world.  By delight, I mean an annoyance.  Ever since I've been into cars, I've always thought about how to make them go faster.  From the age of six, when I would pretend to strap rocket motors to my Hot Wheels, to age 22, when I know a Spoon crankcase girdle would allow me to spin a B18C5 all the way up to 10,000 rpm with little extra modification.

How far gearheads come.

But right now I'm switching mindsets again, for nearly the hundrenth time (note: #1, #2, #3, #4, #5, #6).  I used to be all about trucks, with big fucking wagon wheels on them, frames on the ground.  Then it was small little four cylinder compacts flitting about the racetrack and the street.  Then rat-rods.  Back to four-cylinders, but with four-doors for Touring car racing.  Now I'm thinking about rally wagons.  From '03 GMC Serrias, to '96 Saturn SL2's, to '32 Ford B's, to '95 Honda Civics, and now 1998 Subaru Foresters.

When I was doing my research on Saturns for hop-ups, I didn't find a whole lot.  I had to dig deep.  Real deep.  Ideas, parts, anything, did not come easily or readily.  But what I found was staggering.  Unfortunatly, in my search for Saturn porn, the rest of the industry started to drop off my radar.  I got target fixated.  Now, with my focus shifting due to the desire for a new-to-me car, I'm looking at buying the afore mentioned Forester.

Plying my wants on Autotrader, hitting the Forester forums, looking at what other people have built in the many years the SF5 platform has been on the market (especially the Angry Toaster build), and trying to figure out what will fit where, and how the Impreza STI parts fit into the Forester.  But all those parts and modifications are getting out of the way of what I really will need to do to this, my other lover.

I need will need her to take me through the snow.  Quickly and cheaply.  It's looking more and more like I will end up snow bound and drifted in Marquette, Michigan come August.  And the snow up there gets deep.  This is a problem.  The last time I drove in snow with any sort of regularity was when I was making frequent winter trips to the Thumb area.  That was four years ago.  I was tame then.  Now I'm a hooligan.  Tail-out and slide happy.

This SF5 is going to quickly re-sprayed a Krylon blue and have various small bits and pieces painted bright flouresent orange for easy sight.  The bumpers and front fenders will be attached with zipties, so that when I do hit the inevitable snowbank, they don't get too damaged.  This toaster will not be a looker.  But it will be a driver.  With snow tires and gravel suspension, I'll have an easier time getting around the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.  Piece de resistance?  The plaid panda bear buckled in the rear center.  I'm looking foward to this.

Hitting trees,

Johnny Rumble

Monday, February 15, 2010

And Now For Something Completely The Same:

So what else well the other day I said I've been writing and I have. Quite a bit really but it is not what i would call substantial. well not in that there is a plot. There is no real plot, however there is probably themes running through all these that can be debated but since I don't even know anyone gives a shit, or reads it, well it doesn't matter does it? Really though, for a while now I just have been carrying either a pen and paper around with me everywhere I go, or barring that my iPhone, it has a wonderful note feature that works wonders. I'll just put up a couple small things now, and the longer things will go up after I get back from EWC this weekend. I have no idea if any of it is decent, it probably sucks or could at least become less horrible if polished up and as I see stuff I change it but for the most part it is put down here as it was written however many months ago. I think I will start noting the date when I add something since the note feature just updates to the date you added it, not when something specific occurs.
*Note the dashed lines means the end of something*

Behavior gives an impression
here in the spotlight
I say its not attention
Self-esteem again
where do I belong?
self doubt again
what I don't have
I'm fearing the most
This fragile thing
I have hope
I may never find it
why take the risk?
When everyone says run.
Self esteem, self doubt
Cannot be the same
I feel secure enough
And now I try not to care
Whats in my mind
Frothing in it's confusion
This river of jumbled thoughts
Meanders through my brain
The course it carves is ever changing.
What will it leave behind
Do I want it exposed
I don't know what to do
Tedium and boredom punctuate my days
Their voices cutting through the fog.

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Four Years

I can't believe that it's been four years since I started this place.  Honestly, I thought I would have run completely out of material to write about, expirences to share, and thoughts to type.  Shit, I used to look at HTML code and think it's a bunch of geek-noid gibberish.  Now, I is a fluent speaker in g33k-n01d.


It's been a fun four years though.  Three moves (soon to be four), two different coasts of the United States, four different girlfriend expirences, uncounted numbers of projects, and a heap load of trouble along the way.  But strangely, only one ticket.  For speeding.  Go figure.

Right now I'm listening to somebody putting the Airman's Creed to some thrash metal music.  Courtesy of AF Blues.  Thanks Farva!  I've been thinking more and more about joining the military.  It's the only life I've ever known, and I'm not exacrtly sure I can survive in the civilian sector with flourish.  Anyway...

It's been a great four years, and I hope to be around for another four (hopefully more) years.

Happy Massacre Day,

Johnny Rumble

Saturday, February 06, 2010


So the pictures, one is me after Mass, and the other is from this summer during the trip into the city with a friend. Doing the tourist thing was fun and we ended up getting lost, for an hour or so. Note: don't miss your metro stop next time. Otherwise it was a fun day out into our nations capital.


Now Here This

Yo so I realize well that I have been negligent in posting anything but I am still here. Actually got a lot of freeverse and what not written down so I will put that up and some pictures if thats alright. And today Hull beat Man City so the weekend was good. And I miss my brother oh yeah lots to update on that front: I am an older brother)


Johnny Rumble:

Things are starting to fall into place.  I've been accepted to a few Universities out east, with the fall semester scheduled to to start in August of this year, I will soon be getting out of California.  Just like I always wanted.

This frightens me to a small degree.  I have eeked out a small living here in NorCal, and starting all over, while I'm dreadfully used to it, still is a daunting task.  I, and I mean we, as my girlfriend will be joining me, God willing, have to start scrimping and saving every single penny I can muster to make the move.  Not to mention, depending on the latidute, I think I will be saying goodbye to my Saturn and picking up a Subaru to drive.  All Wheel Drive, boxer-four, turbocharged, such a godsend, such a problem.

More on this as new develops,

Johnny Rumble

Thursday, February 04, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
New Leather

After years of searching and looking and hoping and more searching I finally landed my next project...

Leather Bomber Jacket from Leather Works in Old Sacramento.  It's remnant patchwork leather, but for $20, who cares?  Much love and hate to my girlfriend for talking me into this.

I said hate, yes.  After so many years of dreaming and thinking about how to do this jacket, and with all my hot-button issue ideas null and void.  The Tank Girl idea is kind of a dead idea as well.  I'm looking into hot-rod/rat-rod style artwork and punk rock pin up girls.  Could also go with a visual tribute to the J'sF's-verse... (which I have been re-vising slowly.  I know that I'm done writing new portions.)  It's a "we'll see" kinda thing.  I got thirty days to figure something out before I can no longer return or exchange the damn thing.

Paint Fume High,

Johnny Rumble

Sunday, January 31, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Preview of "Death"

Been up to my old tricks again and putting fingers to keys.

I knew she was dead. It wasn’t the fact that the passenger seat had been sheered off at the mounts and gone through the windshield, or the fact that I see the motor was sitting 30 degrees offline of the car. I knew Rose was dying because she told me.
Made a run of it didn’t we, you orphan?

With that, Tokyo Rose was dead.

Her body lay in the middle of the street, a Chevrolet van sitting not to far away, the front end smashed in. Rose was caved in drastically right in the middle. Almost looked like somebody had tried to fold her in half. I put the transmission into neutral and took the keys out of the ignition, throwing them on what was left of the dashboard.

There was a fireman talking at me, asking me if I was okay and telling me to stay conscious. The trucks were all around, and an ambulance was waiting to take to the hospital. Fuck that, I thought, I’m not going to another fucking hospital. Two fireman were working the Jaws of Life into the door, the hydraulic pump clattering loudly, prying apart the metal.

I undid my harness and took the steering wheel off the column. I was pretty sure that I hadn’t broken anything in the crash, but I did feel some moisture on my forehead. My hand was red when I pulled it away. That fireman was yelling at me not to move, not to do anything. They weren’t sure what state I was in and didn’t want me to hurt myself accidently. “Fuck off,” I told him, “I’m all-fucking-right.”

By the time they had pried the door open, I had already swiveled my neck and flexed nearly all my joints. I knew then that I hadn’t broken anything, but they still slapped the neck brace on and threw me on a gurney. I saw Rose from the outside, lifeless, seemingly limp, but still strong in death. I knew she had saved me, let me fight for at least one more day. But she was done. Totaled by some cunt that ran a red-light.

She was sitting in the back of a police cruiser, and an officer handling what looking like a bag of powdered sugar. Stupid bitch.

I looked at Rose one last time before I lay my head back on the gurney and closed my eyes.

The hospital was antiseptically clean. I knew this from the smell if only because I couldn’t see right now. They had draped a towel over my eyes. I also knew I was in the hole of the giant white donut they called a MRI. They were checking for permanent brain damage, as my pupils were different sizes. At least the attending is pretty.

As the machine was making its hammer noises, I thought of Sadie and the state I left her in. I knew she was angry at the choices I had made, and that I doubt she would ever forgive me. I still loved her, and wanted to be with her, but I understood and respected her choice when she told me “I don’t want to see you again. Stay away from me.” So here I was, in Nashville, at the Centennial Medical Center, getting my brains hammered out. Rose was dead, I was alone, and everything I owned was sitting in some scrap yard, waiting for me to pick it up.


When the doctors slid me out from the machine I told them, “I’m leaving. I’m checking myself out.” They all threw their typical fits and tried to convince me that I couldn’t go, that they weren’t sure I was okay or not. They gave me nearly every reason in the book. Except for her. She stood behind the other two, silent. I looked at her. “What about you doc? Got anything to say?”

She didn’t.

I pulled the IV out of my arm when I got back to my room and started taking off all the little sensors and glued wires on my body. The nurse wasn’t happy that I was doing all of this on my own, and slapped my hands away while she undid the rest of them. While I was buttoning my shirt, the doctor walked in and closed the door. I laced up my boot and looked at her, waiting.

“There’s nothing I can say that will get you stay here is there?”

I shook my head. A mistake and my head began to throb badly.

“Your concussion is very severe. It would be best if you were here, where we could keep an eye on you, and make sure that you get better.”

“No, I’m leaving. I don’t need to be bed-ridden,” I spoke.

“You’re Jonathan Lewis. A guy that has a police file three inches thick. Yeah, I looked into your history.” She paused. “No, you don’t need any help. You just need to get your head on straight.”

“What the fuck of it?” I asked, lacing up my other boot. The blood had dried on the sage green leather, turning it brown. I just fucking bought these too.

She sighed. She pulled out her prescription pad and wrote something on it. “Here, my number. Just in case you change your mind, or you get worse.” I took the slip and put into my wallet, sliding that into my back pocket. My head was still in pain. “You’ll find your car at Mercer’s Auto and Salvage. Centennial and 63rd Street.”

This I already knew from when a cop came and talked to me about the accident and get my side of the story. The bitch that hit me was going to jail, regardless if I was at fault or not. They found cocaine under the front seat of her car. And she also had an outstanding warrant for her arrest. With a wink and a nod the cop told me, “Scene investigation found that she was the one at fault.”

Whatever, all that mattered was that Rose was dead. No resurrection was possible with her this time. I pulled her out of barn outside of Pigeon, Michigan, right off of Sturm Road. Mr. Howard’s property. I had family that lived in that area. That was the only reason I knew she was there.

As I stepped through the sliding doors, I pulled out my phone and dialed for a taxi. I did some quick calculations and figured that I had about eight grand left to spend. If I had much hope of making it to Tulsa, I needed to find a new car. And quick.

The cab ride was short. Maybe only 10 minutes. I paid the cabbie and went inside. A girl, maybe 16, was sitting at the desk reading some magazine about that movie Twilight or some such thing. ‘Some such thing…’ fuck me, my linguistics are coming back. I walked to the desk, and even before she could put down the magazine I started, “The police told me that I could find my car here. ’31 Ford Model A rat.”

She looked over the top of her magazine and gave me a look like I was interrupting something more important than doing her damn job. She kept her eyes locked to mine with that stare as she called over her shoulder, “Hey grandpa, the owner of that car is here.” With that she went back to her magazine and loudly snapped her bubble gum. Bitch.

An old guy, must have been in his 70’s, came out of the back office and offered his hand. I felt the thick calluses on his plam. “Names Mercer. Most people call me Merc.”


“So you’re the one that owns the sweet Model A Rat?”


“Huh?” He looked me up and down.

“I’m the one that built that sweet Model A Rat.” Mercer looked me in the eyes for a moment and gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“Well, she’s out back. Dang rotten shame what happened to her.” He led me out the back door of the office and into the Tennessee sun. I shielded my eyes and scanned the yard as he took me toward Rose. Lots of hardware out here. I saw a yellow 240SX sitting in the corner, peeking out from beneath a tarp. Fuck me, is that…?

“Here you go. You did a real nice job with her.” Mercer got my attention and my eyes fell onto the corpse of Tokyo Rose.

She really was smashed all to fuck. I took a walk around her, looking at what could be salvaged. Left wheels and tires, taillight… The passenger side was a total loss. Both wheels were cracked and the frame and body were so completely caved in, that I found myself wondering how I had survived. Both turbos are done, headers and downpipes are bent… I looked the Toyota block over and saw no apparent damage, but the valve cover did have an unsettling large dent in it. Camshafts are probably busted, which means valves might be unseated.

“Total fucking loss. A total fucking loss. God fucking damn it,” I swore under my breath. I looked up at the old man and he looked at me with some sort of sympathy in his eyes. Looking through where the front windshield used to be, I remembered about the shifter. Brass. Handmade by Shinya Kimura. It had still better fucking be there.

Johnny Rumble

Saturday, January 16, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
Drinking Brandy


Johnny Rumble

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Johnny Rumble:
WMG Productions

It's a brand new season!


Johnny Rumble