Wednesday, June 26, 2019

Bored



by Jim Rousch

Don't call me oppressed.  I'm fucking bored, because I'm in a motel room with nothing to do.

The least someone could do is mail me a book of matches and a gallon of gasoline, but the problem with that plan is that everyone will know who did that, so there's point in doing something that stupid.    Hence, I just have to ride this one out.

I didn't do well in the class I was in-except for the last week.  I knew it was that mood stabilizer the very moment I finished three weeks in one. I also knew that was the problem when I returned to normal.  All I knew was that I couldn't do my research-and it annoyed the hell out of me, because I didn't feel like myself.

The wrong medication in a damaged brain like mine spells fabulous disaster, but on the other hand, my psychiatrist told me that over 99 % of babies who acquire meningitis don't make it to grad school-and I wonder if that is because they aren't pushed, like I was.

At least I know I'm bored.

Monday, June 24, 2019

Learn The Hard Ward Way

I'm learning more things, but the hard way.

Life in a motel built during the New Deal era is different in that you don't know whether or not your assignments reach your professor's computer.

This poor place doesn't have the adequate power required to do it, but I wouldn't make the suggestion of tearing it down because who the hell am I to make that suggestion?  I think of all of the thousands of people and families who have stayed here before I came along, and I just figure said suggestion to be seven degrees of wrong.

I don't believe in tearing down old buildings.  I believe in learning from the dead, as this is an example of what they had to make things work every day.

The dead can still teach you how to live-but only if you let them.

They left clues for us to follow, and they expected intellect to carry on with the next century; how we have failed them!

We became lazy.
We became prejudiced in terms of learning ability.
And American society is paying the price as the rest of the world catches up.

Hey, man.  Don't look at me.  You booted me out-remember?

I guess you have to learn the hard way.

Thursday, June 6, 2019

Don't kid yourself

Tuesday, June 4, 2019

Settling In

by Jim Rousch












So, I'm currently writing this from a school computer, and will soon return to the motel where I'm staying on Broadway in Denver, Colorado.

It's just another Sepulveda Blvd. in the San Fernanado Valley to me, so I'm not too worried about it.  I'm just bored as all hell there.

I don't watch television because it's stupid.  I'm slowly getting to know my neighbors, and they remind me very much of people whom I know in my Van Nuys apartment complex, very genuine and very 'I got less than you, so don't worry'.  We all get all along, whereby Americans in the middle class compete with each other.

I acually feel safer in a lower-income neighborhood than one of means.  Remember the shooting at Highlands Ranch?   https://www.denverpost.com/2019/05/07/stem-school-shooting-colorado-live-blog/

This is where the "good white kids" go to school!   Meanwhile, scumbags like me went to Sylmar High-where we didn't get shot!   So, tell me who came out ahead of the the deal?

Friday, May 31, 2019

by Jim Rousch

The Madam President of the United States of what's left of America-after Trump ruins it.



Image may contain: 1 person, sitting and text




She is known for cleaning Republican messes. 'Nuff said.




Kamala Harris, California Democrat.

Thursday, May 30, 2019

This is What Brain Damage Sounds Like, Motherfucker!

Jim Rousch, 2011, Guitar Center, Irvine, California

How Does God Let A Liar Win?

IMG_2181









Ascension Lutheran Church



Remember when you read about my being blindsided by an older usher after a church service after I tried to explain my brain injury to her?

Well, Clyde Wiggins lied and I got kicked out of Ascension Lutheran Church, in Littleton, Colorado, effective immediately-after I was the one who got hurt.  How did I get hurt in the first place?  Working at Walmart on night shift, of course; with hundreds of pallets hit me over a period of years.

I took it well because I wasn't surprised that this would be the ouI took it well because I wasn't surprised that this would be the outcome.  I was miffed, however.
outcome.  I was miffed, however.
"You're gonna take an old man's word over mine? I've got a damaged spine and a chipped shoulder!"

"But you were yelling and screaming.  You frightened people, Jim."
"I told you what the frontal lobes are responsible for."
"Clyde warned you," the pastor maintained.
"Dude's fucking lying.  I never heard him and I never saw him until I got thrown.  It's because he's a fucking elder and an usher.  I didn't deserve this treatment because my back and my shoulder are both fucked up."

That was about it.

That's the problem with the Church today.  It lies like a dead hooker in the street.
"You're gonna take an old man's word over mine?  I've got a damaged spine and a chipped shoulder!"

"But you were yelling and screaming.  You frightened people, Jim."
"I told you that the frontal lobes are responof temper."
"Clyde warned you."
"Dude's fucking lying.  I never heard him and I never saw him until I got thrown.  It's because he's an fucking elder and an usher.  This is bullshit.  I didn't deserve this treatment because my back and my shoulder are both fucked up.
That's the problem with the Church today.  It lies like a dead hooker in the streettcome.  I was miffed, however.

"You're gonna take an old man's word over mine?  I've got a damaged spine and a chipped shoulder!"

"But you were yelling and screaming.  You frightened people, Jim."
"I told you that the frontal lobes are responsible for the of temper."
"Clyde warned you."
"Dude's fucking lying.  I never heard him and I never saw him until I got thrown.  It's because he's an fucking elder and an usher.  This is bullshit.  I didn't deserve this treatment because my back and my shoulder are both fucked up.

That's the problem with the Church today.  It lies like a dead hooker in the street.

Tuesday, May 28, 2019

Through Time











 asshole


































 Caffeine




Mom, Grandma, Grandpa, Me, and my 1977 Pontiac Grand Prix across the street


 2008

 Jesus Christ



















 My buddy.  I will miss him.





















 Volbeat




















  You can't have her.