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Index » Radio Paradise/General » General Discussion » True Confessions Page: 1, 2, 3 ... 101, 102, 103  Next
Post to this Topic
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jul 23, 2021 - 12:06pm

The only two things I've ever won in a drawing or contest was a trip to a music festival in San Francisco and a small wet/dry vac.
I just love juxtapositional poetry...
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Jul 13, 2021 - 11:56am

So when I was 12 or 13 and a serious Baltimore Colts fan playing tackle football with neighborhood boys in my front yard
I went head first John Mackey into a tree and wound up with a ball of contusion and pain on top of my head. It was funny to everyone but me. 
I'll bet John Mackey gave out contusions 10 to 1. Guys hanging all on him trying to drag him down. Like hungry lions hanging off a water buffalo. That's how I remember him
on our black and white TV Sunday three channels; two with football. One hopefully with the Colts. 

Did I say I loved the Baltimore Colts? 

Anyhow my Mom flipped out at the cartoon lump on top of my head. And, to add insult to injury, I'm sure that tree wasn't shaken at all. I paid with pain for the love of the game. Yeah. That's it.

Man that Jets win hurt. Bad. Damn you Broadway Joe...

oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Apr 7, 2021 - 10:36pm

 Manbird wrote:


 oldviolin wrote:
I worked on a Sears catalogue fulfillment loading dock during the Christmas season of '71 '72. I remember because I saw Alice Cooper on the Killer tour that year.. Just a few rows back. Free was the opener. He was noosed. Later he opted for the guillotine. Hearing Desperado live like that was pretty awe inspiring for a 16 yo.

I got fired from that job for racing forklifts. What a dumbass...

Forklifts are so much freakin' fun though! Especially the kind that grab and rotate and stuff.  We had a cat 980 with forks on it that could pick up a dozen flattened cars. Picking up cars and tossing them around is a gas, daddy-o. Big toys for little boys. Playing in the scrapyard.
 
What about the ones that have big squeezers on them.  Ain't no joke.
Manbird

Manbird Avatar

Location: Owl Creek Bridge
Gender: Male


Posted: Apr 7, 2021 - 10:28pm



 oldviolin wrote:
I worked on a Sears catalogue fulfillment loading dock during the Christmas season of '71 '72. I remember because I saw Alice Cooper on the Killer tour that year.. Just a few rows back. Free was the opener. He was noosed. Later he opted for the guillotine. Hearing Desperado live like that was pretty awe inspiring for a 16 yo.

I got fired from that job for racing forklifts. What a dumbass...

Forklifts are so much freakin' fun though! Especially the kind that grab and rotate and stuff.  We had a cat 980 with forks on it that could pick up a dozen flattened cars. Picking up cars and tossing them around is a gas, daddy-o. Big toys for little boys. Playing in the scrapyard.
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Apr 7, 2021 - 9:37pm

I worked on a Sears catalogue fulfillment loading dock during the Christmas season of '71 '72. I remember because I saw Alice Cooper on the Killer tour that year.. Just a few rows back. He was noosed. Later he opted for the guillotine. Hearing Desperado live like that was pretty awe inspiring for a 16 yo.

I got fired from that job for racing forklifts. What a dumbass...
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Apr 7, 2021 - 9:28pm

 oldviolin wrote:
I would rather be defective than ineffective any day...
Wait. Isn't this the 260,000 posts thread?
uh oh...
 
um
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Apr 7, 2021 - 9:17pm

A locally famous musician sought me out about a performance. I have to admit it felt pretty nice. I played my heart out...
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Feb 9, 2021 - 6:23pm

Who are you?
I am emotionally driven and futility propelled

God help me tell the truth.
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 18, 2020 - 9:03am



 rgio wrote:


 ...


 
Been there, done that.  I have no idea why. 

I also remember at 3 or 4 years old taking a blanket and lying on the forced-air duct in the floor.  Waiting...and waiting...for the glorious moment when the heat would come on.

My mother was raised in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, and my Grandparents' house had large holes in the ceilings/floors to allow for heat to rise.  Still waiting.

 
I have  very similar experiences with both accounts...


rgio

rgio Avatar

Location: West Jersey
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 18, 2020 - 8:53am



 oldviolin wrote:
...its a book that my Father had and that I read many times as a boy.
My Father told me of the winter time, and that old house they lived in.  It was a worn out old small-town Victorian built 80 years earlier with one of those porches that wrapped all the way around and an integral kitchen off the back where it would get so cold that the water bucket would freeze if more than 3 feet from the wood burning cook stove.

My pop said his bedroom was on the fireplace wall but that's about it for the heat. He spent a lot of time reading his whole life.

I shiver to think of that level of poverty, being spared of it by a good man.

Still, I guess I grew up with my own version, and in the bed at night under the quilt my grandmother made and with a flashlight and my mom's portable hair dryer for heat, I read that book over and over.

The hair dryer was one of those things in a little suitcase with a hose and a bonnet. It blew nice warm heat and when you restricted air from going in the intake the thing glowed red hot.

Fortunately I never fell asleep with it running...


 
Been there, done that.  I have no idea why. 

I also remember at 3 or 4 years old taking a blanket and lying on the forced-air duct in the floor.  Waiting...and waiting...for the glorious moment when the heat would come on.

My mother was raised in the Northeast Kingdom of Vermont, and my Grandparents' house had large holes in the ceilings/floors to allow for heat to rise.  Still waiting.

oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 18, 2020 - 8:12am

...its a book that my Father had and that I read many times as a boy.
My Father told me of the winter time, and that old house they lived in.  It was a worn out old small-town Victorian built 80 years earlier with one of those porches that wrapped all the way around and an integral kitchen off the back where it would get so cold that the water bucket would freeze if more than 3 feet from the wood burning cook stove.

My pop said his bedroom was on the fireplace wall but that's about it for the heat. He spent a lot of time reading his whole life.

I shiver to think of that level of poverty, being spared of it by a good man.

Still, I guess I grew up with my own version, and in the bed at night under the quilt my grandmother made and with a flashlight and my mom's portable hair dryer for heat, I read that book over and over.

The hair dryer was one of those things in a little suitcase with a hose and a bonnet. It blew nice warm heat and when you restricted air from going in the intake the thing glowed red hot.

Fortunately I never fell asleep with it running...


Ohmsen

Ohmsen Avatar

Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 17, 2020 - 3:00pm



 oldviolin wrote:
My emotional makeup is my greatest strength and like most of us, potentially my greatest weakness.
I could be lying though...
 

Yes.
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Nov 17, 2020 - 2:52pm

My emotional makeup is my greatest strength and like most of us, potentially my greatest weakness.
I could be lying though...
Ohmsen

Ohmsen Avatar

Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 13, 2020 - 3:19pm



 oldviolin wrote:


 Ohmsen wrote:


 
Thank you. 

Good fortune comes our way. 

And we ride down the King's highway.......... 


 

Now you're asking for trouble lolol.

Nah. I just talk too much. It's an alien thing.


 

Perhaps not so alien, after all. 


oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 13, 2020 - 3:12pm



 Ohmsen wrote:


 
Thank you. 

Good fortune comes our way. 

And we ride down the King's highway.......... 


 

Now you're asking for trouble lolol.

Nah. I just talk too much. It's an alien thing.


Ohmsen

Ohmsen Avatar

Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 13, 2020 - 2:34pm



 oldviolin wrote:


 Ohmsen wrote:


 oldviolin wrote:
The point was that reality and truth are personal and have to be lived to believed. That which is illuminated within shines on without. Disconnected from the engine of sorrow and rust of the soul, the remnant gleaming brightly as a product of grief and longing. Absorbed and burned as fuel, fear and pain eventually taper and pinpoint a direction beyond but it is a trail of tears. Of that each one knows for sure.
Aside from that we speculate and confound the argument with conscious if unwilling ignorance.
 

I seem to be getting 'it' by now. Sorry for any "conscious if unwilling" ignorant displeasure caused. Keep in mind, though, you are posting on a public forum here, even if many or few of active posters here are 'family' to you, there might be ones (like me) who keep talking to a 'blank page'. 

Thanks.
 

Wait. Not quite. No discomfort caused whatsoever. That post was an addendum to the deeply and perhaps uncomfortable deleted post before. 
The flaming taper is mine. The willful ignorance. The trail of tears and the terrifying secrets of a child. All personal. All mine. Perhaps your's but not by design. I'm a conduit.
You are as equally family to me here as anyone else. I'm painting a self portrait while looking in a mirror. I'm seeing the beauty and seeing the ugliness in myself and I'm attempting a clever facade from deep down inside for public consumption. 
Somewhere between faith and performance art.
All my reality. All my truth. All my pain.

I'm bubbling to the surface
carried by music and often ridiculous notions of wordplay. Over the top is a melody of my life and experiences and love of God's face, perfectly permanent in imperfect and impermanent human beings.
Rendered. Forgiven. Survived.
All virtual. All slowly sculpting a long goodbye for themselves.

I'm saying many things at once, and one thing many times.

If somehow in my obscure way I have offended anyone here I ask forgiveness. I'm not a judge. I am only a messenger. 



 

 

Thank you. 

Good fortune comes our way. 

And we ride down the King's highway.......... 


oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 13, 2020 - 2:00pm



 Ohmsen wrote:


 oldviolin wrote:
The point was that reality and truth are personal and have to be lived to believed. That which is illuminated within shines on without. Disconnected from the engine of sorrow and rust of the soul, the remnant gleaming brightly as a product of grief and longing. Absorbed and burned as fuel, fear and pain eventually taper and pinpoint a direction beyond but it is a trail of tears. Of that each one knows for sure.
Aside from that we speculate and confound the argument with conscious if unwilling ignorance.
 

I seem to be getting 'it' by now. Sorry for any "conscious if unwilling" ignorant displeasure caused. Keep in mind, though, you are posting on a public forum here, even if many or few of active posters here are 'family' to you, there might be ones (like me) who keep talking to a 'blank page'. 

Thanks.
 

Wait. Not quite. No discomfort caused whatsoever. That post was an addendum to the deeply and perhaps uncomfortable deleted post before. 
The flaming taper is mine. The willful ignorance. The trail of tears and the terrifying secrets of a child. All personal. All mine. Perhaps your's but not by design. I'm a conduit.
You are as equally family to me here as anyone else. I'm painting a self portrait while looking in a mirror. I'm seeing the beauty and seeing the ugliness in myself and I'm attempting a clever facade from deep down inside for public consumption. 
Somewhere between faith and performance art.
All my reality. All my truth. All my pain.

I'm bubbling to the surface
carried by music and often ridiculous notions of wordplay. Over the top is a melody of my life and experiences and love of God's face, perfectly permanent in imperfect and impermanent human beings.
Rendered. Forgiven. Survived.
All virtual. All slowly sculpting a long goodbye for themselves.

I'm saying many things at once, and one thing many times.

If somehow in my obscure way I have offended anyone here I ask forgiveness. I'm not a judge. I am only a messenger. 



 

Ohmsen

Ohmsen Avatar

Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 13, 2020 - 1:29pm



 oldviolin wrote:
The point was that reality and truth are personal and have to be lived to believed. That which is illuminated within shines on without. Disconnected from the engine of sorrow and rust of the soul, the remnant gleaming brightly as a product of grief and longing. Absorbed and burned as fuel, fear and pain eventually taper and pinpoint a direction beyond but it is a trail of tears. Of that each one knows for sure.
Aside from that we speculate and confound the argument with conscious if unwilling ignorance.
 

I seem to be getting 'it' by now. Sorry for any "conscious if unwilling" ignorant displeasure caused. Keep in mind, though, you are posting on a public forum here, even if many or few of active posters here are 'family' to you, there might be ones (like me) who keep talking to a 'blank page'. 

It'd be hard to say for me without getting personal again, but my guts keep telling me, it's about compassion to the self.

Thanks for the heads-up, Bud.
oldviolin

oldviolin Avatar

Location: esse quam videri
Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 13, 2020 - 1:16pm

The point was that reality and truth are personal and have to be lived to believed. That which is illuminated within shines on without. Disconnected from the engine of sorrow and rust of the soul, the remnant gleaming brightly as a product of grief and longing. Absorbed and burned as fuel, fear and pain eventually taper and pinpoint a direction beyond but it is a trail of tears. Of that each one knows for sure.
Aside from that we speculate and confound the argument with conscious if unwilling ignorance.
Coaxial

Coaxial Avatar

Location: 543 miles west of Paradis,1491 miles eas
Gender: Male


Posted: Oct 11, 2020 - 3:20pm

 oldviolin wrote:
 
 
{#Hug}
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