Roughneck Part 1

I don't shave; because I don't have to, or want to.

I am a salesman by trade; not by nature; but by trade.

Dire economic times call for desperate economic measures (see: I got canned). Upon realizing that I am running dangerously low on beer money I took a gig doing grunt work for my step dad. He runs a sort of contracting company doing random odd jobs and he needs some river rock moved; I need some beer money; match made in heaven.

I showed up at the house to meet the crew, to find out where to go and for coffee and Cheerios most importantly.

James is already there. James is the electrician. I expected him to be thinner. Tweakers make great electrician...for about three days then they are no good for a week or so but they are amazing again for three days after that. James is bulkier with a beard and USMC hat and tattoos. I believe he learned to be an electrician in prison.

Lori is also already there. Lori is "The Tile Chick"; at least that's what is says in my step dad's phone, he tells me. Lori is 43, the oldest in the crew. She has long blond hair and a face that shows her age and then some without being wholly unattractive.

James and Lori are skilled laborers. They make more than me.

Dale pulls up sometime later in a newer black truck that is obviously new and he is obviously proud of. He is working this job to keep it. Dale is also an electrician though not for the purpose of this company as they already have one.

I ride with him to the job. He tells me that he is working this job because work at the union is scarce and he needs to keep "this pretty black truck". His friend is working a job in Kingman and assured him he could get him in. The job is working on a prison that they are building which is against Dale's morals but again he explains, "I have to keep this pretty black truck". I assure him Johnny Cash would have left that railroad right where it was if it was more fiscally beneficial.

Dale speaks in a voice with a tone that reminds me of someone I know. Someone who has a Porsche. Someone who sleeps with attractive women. Sometimes dozens at a time. Sometimes even lesbians. He tells me and I believe him. Dale does none of these things. He is actually more outgoing than said someone, but somehow smells of loser. I like Dale.

There are a few others on the crew but they are not interesting or I didn't talk with them much so they aren't worth more than a mention. Oh except Chris. Chris is my step dad's neighbor and appointed foreman yet he calls Jim (my step dad) his partner when talking business.

(Because I have to be back to hauling rock at 7am I will continue later)

Chops

Note to self: Call AMber "Chops", from here on out.

Will playing an Em chord on my guitar over and over make me Emo? Perhaps I am already Emo and the chord is a symptom.

"Doc, I can't stop playing E minor and my hair is growing over my left eye. Also my pants feel tight and I keep crying in front of people."

"Bad case of the Emoes, Nathan. I want you to go see Chuckles the Clown. He can cheer up anyone, and I hear he is in town."

"But Doc...I am Chuckles the Clown."

I am an uncarved block.

I had probably better get a job soon. The savings won't hold up forever. For the time being I have been concentrating on packing and getting moved. The problem is I get so worn out from all the concentrating that I have no energy left to actually do it.

I love this apartment which is all the more apparent now that I finally got the chance to entertain people here. It's not the apartment's fault the life in it was a mess. Poor little guy must feel abandoned.

The party last night was very needed. Drinks songs and friends are the best cure for The Emoes. I am going to learn to play and sing well enough to not be embarassed the next morning after doing so. It's kind of like waking up drunk and remembering you had sex..."shit was I good?...Did I look ok?...is she going to want to do it again?...am I?...is it as good as they make it out to be in general?"

Ahem.