On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>
> > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
>
> > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>
> Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already

You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.

On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:19:30 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >
> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
> >
> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
> >
> > Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already
> You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.

Everybody can see there are no "fantasies" about that.
Ignoring the fact that you, like your Master, are misusing and incorrectly using the definition of the word.

On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:19:30 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >
> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
> >
> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
> >
> > Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already
> You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.

definitely seems to homoerotica on the brain.

HTH and HAND.

Will Dockery wrote:

> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:19:30 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
>> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> >
>> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
>> >
>> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>> >
>> > Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already
>> You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.

> Definitely seems to homoerotica on the brain.

> HTH and HAND.

Yep, no doubt about it.

Ha ha.

On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 7:34:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> Will Dockery wrote:
>
> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:19:30 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> >> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> >> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> >> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> >
> >> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
> >> >
> >> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
> >> >
> >> > Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already
> >> You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.
> > Definitely seems to homoerotica on the brain.
>
> > HTH and HAND.
>
> Yep, no doubt about it.
>
> Ha ha.

Poor little guy.

🙂

On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:19:30 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >
> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
> >
> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
> >
> > Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already
> You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.

They appear to be incessant.

:)

On Tuesday, November 29, 2022 at 4:47:53 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:19:30 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> > > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> > >
> > > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
> > >
> > > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
> > >
> > > Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already
> > You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.
> They appear to be incessant.
>
> :)

Yep...

Family Guy wrote:

> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> > Family Guy wrote:
>> >
>> > > On Friday, September 30, 2022 at 5:34:58 PM UTC-4, Will Dockery wrote:
>> > >
>> > >> This poem is another based on true events.
>> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>> > > You getting high?
>> > > That was shit.
>> > That's probably just your upper lip you smell, Dink.
>> >
>> > 🙂
>> Ha ha... from having his nose up Chad and Greg's ass..?
>>
>> Ha ha.

> Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already and shut the hell up?

Homophobic fantasy noted, again.

🙂

General-Zod wrote:

> Will Dockery wrote:
>>
>> Passage Through Ennui

>> 35 years ago
>> it was another
>> long bitter Summer
>> that dark humid July 1985.

>> I was working
>> the graveyard shift
>> operating one of the service elevators
>> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>> Galatea and I
>> had split up again
>> earlier in the year
>> after our explosive reunion
>> in 1983.

>> It ended quickly
>> after a huge fight
>> with her brother
>> over an old score
>> usually forgotten.

>> I won the fight
>> but actually lost.
>> Tracy gave up
>> and Galatea left with him.

>> The year
>> it all came apart
>> seemingly permanent.
>> Two years of good times
>> ended in a moonshine rage. .

>> All I could see was
>> a shut down gloom.
>> The only laughter I heard
>> was down in the break room.

>> The brown haze of factory air
>> angry faced people
>> and the music
>> of metal machines.

>> Working all night
>> sleeping all day.
>> Sipping coffee
>> to chase the road aspirins.

>> Sitting on the steps
>> over by a giant fan.
>> keeping up with my workers
>> usually five ladies
>> at the machines.

>> If one of the ladies
>> needed anything
>> they'd just look my way
>> and wave.

>> Several times a night
>> I'd make a buy and fly
>> bringing back coffee for them
>> on makeshift cardboard trays.

>> Jotting down notes
>> doodling narratives
>> creating reality
>> building Shadowville
>> from the ground up.

>> Riding my elevator
>> up and down
>> creating samizdat
>> in the smoking booth.

>> Down to the Reel room
>> my elevator filled
>> with empty racks
>> to bring up the full ones
>> for the ladies upstairs.

>> All night
>> keeping it rolling
>> making it smooth
>> for the ladies
>> to make production.

>> Finally to clock out
>> as the sad whistle would blow
>> we would stumble out the gate
>> into the grey dawn.

>> Some headed for breakfast
>> and a beer
>> while always I headed home
>> for sleep
>> as quickly as possible.

>> Living at Mockingbird Court
>> where I had shared a trailer
>> with my friend Bob Whitman
>> an Army vet turned factory worker.

>> Bob worked downstairs
>> at the Autoclave
>> the machine that steamed chemicals
>> into the yarn.

>> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
>> ran the huge Dryers
>> a super hot
>> chemical steam bath area.

>> Jim married
>> my childhood friend Pamela
>> and passed away too soon
>> from a heart attack

>> I'm not sure how workers
>> down there
>> survived the heat
>> and harsh smell.

>> Actually
>> I noticed not so well
>> as years went by
>> several old friends
>> still haunt me.

>> There was a guy named Bill
>> from Chicago
>> found in the Dryer room
>> coughing up blood from TB.

>> Chip, another Autoclave man
>> was found
>> giggling in the warehouse
>> up in the bales of fiber
>> one line of meth too many.

>> Little Rosell
>> on the Reels downstairs
>> hot little femme fatale
>> who I would know better later.

>> An unteresting lady
>> in her Daisy Duke shorts
>> and "Flashdance" shirt
>> she was the supervisors' choice.

>> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
>> found in a hallway
>> died there of old age.

>> The list goes on
>> many who did not survive
>> until the shut down day
>> another poem for another day.

>> At that time of the night
>> with machines all running right
>> many of us could wander
>> have some coffee
>> and get some fresh air.

>> Bob was a good friend
>> at the job
>> quick with a joke
>> or pass his pipe for a toke.

>> Many smokers and drinkers
>> would hang out
>> on the porch
>> outside the Autoclave room.

>> When he heard
>> of my latest domestic disaster
>> Bob offered
>> to rent me a room.

>> In a rented room
>> in Bob's trailer
>> like a scene from The Odd Couple
>> without the laughs.

>> The bottom fell out
>> we didn't get along
>> outside of the job
>> so I moved out
>> to North Highland.

>> I moved in
>> next door to the Holt family
>> old school mill folk
>> in the former mill village.

>> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
>> all worked at
>> Shadowville Spinning Mill
>> like their family before them.

>> Karen worked in the supply room
>> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
>> Don covered my job
>> during the say shift.

>> For some reason
>> it was important to them
>> that they tell Mr. Newberry
>> that I was their cousin.

>> I never did figure that out
>> but it was cool with me.
>> I liked them all
>> they were down to Earth folks.

>> The day I moved in
>> I had my music playing loud
>> outside my window
>> was the river
>> and then Alabama.

>> I would never have imagined
>> how that area would look now
>> with the row of houses demolished
>> and with the Riverwalk below.

>> I was two floors up
>> but I still felt
>> like a mole
>> like a subterranean.

>> Wake up
>> it was Monday
>> I could hear Billy Teakson
>> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
>> down below.

>> Billy was an old school
>> Card and Blending room man
>> never late
>> sick or well he was on the job.

>> Slither down the stairs
>> so far so good
>> jump in and ride on
>> the the alternate universe
>> the factory.

>> He never failed
>> to have a spare Budweiser
>> and a smoke
>> for the short ride to
>> Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>> We'd get there in time
>> to stand around the parking lot
>> and catch a few words
>> with the crew.

>> Then the whistle would blow
>> and it was on your mark
>> sail through 12 hours of dream
>> in another land.

>> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
>> mill coffee
>> and then
>> in a determined stroll.

>> Up to the Bobbin Winders
>> and the upstairs Reels
>> to catch everything up quick
>> get the game going right.

>> Then down the elevator
>> to the Spinning room
>> sweat shop
>> a dozen ladies
>> smoking and yelling conversations.

>> Loud roaring
>> antique seeming machinery
>> all all points
>> no escape from
>> the chaos and thunder.

>> Get it all caught up
>> then down to the sub basement
>> to pick up the prize left for me
>> by Don
>> my first shift doppelganger.

>> Any time Don
>> skipped out early
>> and left everything
>> off the mark, it was no problem.

>> He'd leave me a joint
>> at a certain spot
>> in the sub basement.

>> The basement was
>> creepy enough
>> but the sub basement
>> seemed right out
>> of a horror movie.

>> Needless to say
>> I'd keep my head down
>> and would try to get out
>> of the sub basement quickly.

>> I had been distributing
>> my broadsheets
>> among my co-worker friends
>> news of the day
>> with a twist.

>> They were entertained
>> by my poetry
>> and comic strips
>> looking for themselves
>> in the lines on paper.

>> Pat, the personnel director
>> called me in her office
>> and put the kibosh
>> on my broadsheet.

>> My poetry and art zine
>> had violated the strict
>> "No Distribution" policy
>> that no outside reading
>> was permitted inside the mill gates.

>> Since I had not been
>> aware of this policy
>> I apologized
>> and kept the broadsides
>> outside the gates from then on.

On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 3:52:30 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> Will Dockery wrote:
>

From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html

> > This poem is another based on true events.
> You getting

You trolling...?

We know...!

Zod wrote:

> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
>> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>>
>> > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
>>
>> > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>>
>> Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already

> You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.

Apparently Dink has a million of them.

🙂

Will Dockery wrote:
>
> Passage Through Ennui
>
> 35 years ago
> it was another
> long bitter Summer
> that dark humid July 1985.
>
> I was working
> the graveyard shift
> operating one of the service elevators
> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.
>
> Galatea and I
> had split up again
> earlier in the year
> after our explosive reunion
> in 1983.
>
> It ended quickly
> after a huge fight
> with her brother
> over an old score
> usually forgotten.
>
> I won the fight
> but actually lost.
> Tracy gave up
> and Galatea left with him.
>
> The year
> it all came apart
> seemingly permanent.
> Two years of good times
> ended in a moonshine rage. .
>
> All I could see was
> a shut down gloom.
> The only laughter I heard
> was down in the break room.
>
> The brown haze of factory air
> angry faced people
> and the music
> of metal machines.
>
> Working all night
> sleeping all day.
> Sipping coffee
> to chase the road aspirins.
>
> Sitting on the steps
> over by a giant fan.
> keeping up with my workers
> usually five ladies
> at the machines.
>
> If one of the ladies
> needed anything
> they'd just look my way
> and wave.
>
> Several times a night
> I'd make a buy and fly
> bringing back coffee for them
> on makeshift cardboard trays.
>
> Jotting down notes
> doodling narratives
> creating reality
> building Shadowville
> from the ground up.
>
> Riding my elevator
> up and down
> creating samizdat
> in the smoking booth.
>
> Down to the Reel room
> my elevator filled
> with empty racks
> to bring up the full ones
> for the ladies upstairs.
>
> All night
> keeping it rolling
> making it smooth
> for the ladies
> to make production.
>
> Finally to clock out
> as the sad whistle would blow
> we would stumble out the gate
> into the grey dawn.
>
> Some headed for breakfast
> and a beer
> while always I headed home
> for sleep
> as quickly as possible.
>
> Living at Mockingbird Court
> where I had shared a trailer
> with my friend Bob Whitman
> an Army vet turned factory worker.
>
> Bob worked downstairs
> at the Autoclave
> the machine that steamed chemicals
> into the yarn.
>
> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
> ran the huge Dryers
> a super hot
> chemical steam bath area.
>
> Jim married
> my childhood friend Pamela
> and passed away too soon
> from a heart attack
>
> I'm not sure how workers
> down there
> survived the heat
> and harsh smell.
>
> Actually
> I noticed not so well
> as years went by
> several old friends
> still haunt me.
>
> There was a guy named Bill
> from Chicago
> found in the Dryer room
> coughing up blood from TB.
>
> Chip, another Autoclave man
> was found
> giggling in the warehouse
> up in the bales of fiber
> one line of meth too many.
>
> Little Rosell
> on the Reels downstairs
> hot little femme fatale
> who I would know better later.
>
> An unteresting lady
> in her Daisy Duke shorts
> and "Flashdance" shirt
> she was the supervisors' choice.
>
> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
> found in a hallway
> died there of old age.
>
> The list goes on
> many who did not survive
> until the shut down day
> another poem for another day.
>
> At that time of the night
> with machines all running right
> many of us could wander
> have some coffee
> and get some fresh air.
>
> Bob was a good friend
> at the job
> quick with a joke
> or pass his pipe for a toke.
>
> Many smokers and drinkers
> would hang out
> on the porch
> outside the Autoclave room.
>
> When he heard
> of my latest domestic disaster
> Bob offered
> to rent me a room.
>
> In a rented room
> in Bob's trailer
> like a scene from The Odd Couple
> without the laughs.
>
> The bottom fell out
> we didn't get along
> outside of the job
> so I moved out
> to North Highland.
>
> I moved in
> next door to the Holt family
> old school mill folk
> in the former mill village.
>
> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
> all worked at
> Shadowville Spinning Mill
> like their family before them.
>
> Karen worked in the supply room
> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
> Don covered my job
> during the say shift.
>
> For some reason
> it was important to them
> that they tell Mr. Newberry
> that I was their cousin.
>
> I never did figure that out
> but it was cool with me.
> I liked them all
> they were down to Earth folks.
>
> The day I moved in
> I had my music playing loud
> outside my window
> was the river
> and then Alabama.
>
> I would never have imagined
> how that area would look now
> with the row of houses demolished
> and with the Riverwalk below.
>
> I was two floors up
> but I still felt
> like a mole
> like a subterranean.
>
> Wake up
> it was Monday
> I could hear Billy Teakson
> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
> down below.
>
> Billy was an old school
> Card and Blending room man
> never late
> sick or well he was on the job.
>
> Slither down the stairs
> so far so good
> jump in and ride on
> the the alternate universe
> the factory.
>
> He never failed
> to have a spare Budweiser
> and a smoke
> for the short ride to
> Shadowville Spinning Mill.
>
> We'd get there in time
> to stand around the parking lot
> and catch a few words
> with the crew.
>
> Then the whistle would blow
> and it was on your mark
> sail through 12 hours of dream
> in another land.
>
> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
> mill coffee
> and then
> in a determined stroll.
>
> Up to the Bobbin Winders
> and the upstairs Reels
> to catch everything up quick
> get the game going right.
>
> Then down the elevator
> to the Spinning room
> sweat shop
> a dozen ladies
> smoking and yelling conversations.
>
> Loud roaring
> antique seeming machinery
> all all points
> no escape from
> the chaos and thunder.
>
> Get it all caught up
> then down to the sub basement
> to pick up the prize left for me
> by Don
> my first shift doppelganger.
>
> Any time Don
> skipped out early
> and left everything
> off the mark, it was no problem.
>
> He'd leave me a joint
> at a certain spot
> in the sub basement.
>
> The basement was
> creepy enough
> but the sub basement
> seemed right out
> of a horror movie.
>
> Needless to say
> I'd keep my head down
> and would try to get out
> of the sub basement quickly.
>
> I had been distributing
> my broadsheets
> among my co-worker friends
> news of the day
> with a twist.
>
> They were entertained
> by my poetry
> and comic strips
> looking for themselves
> in the lines on paper.
>
> Pat, the personnel director
> called me in her office
> and put the kibosh
> on my broadsheet.
>
> My poetry and art zine
> had violated the strict
> "No Distribution" policy
> that no outside reading
> was permitted inside the mill gates.
>
> Since I had not been
> aware of this policy
> I apologized
> and kept the broadsides
> outside the gates from then on.
>
> Absolutely
> no foreknowledge
> of what was coming next
> taking one minute at a time.
>
> Getting from one minute
> to the next
> always in a hurry
> caught up in the time
> flashing by.
>
> Not even giving a damn
> or so I told myself
> by that point in time
> hoping for a speedy turnabout.
>
> I never could have foreseen
> twenty years later in 2005
> standing in a crowd
> watching the old mill in flames
>
> I was living
> in the worn out townhouse
> at 3226 River Avenue
> once part of a mill village.
>
> First week of the month
> was always annoying
> so much noise
> as I tried to sleep.
>
> All day hearing Mr. Newberry
> beating on the sides
> of the houses with his cane
> trying to collect his rent money.
>
> Alone
> in my upstairs office
> writing my manifesto
> in poetry and comic strips.
>
> Right side duplex
> next door to the Holden family.
> Two stories overlooking
> the dark green Chattahoochee.
>
> If I had the foresight
> I would know sitting and waiting
> was wasting precious time
> the cruelty of moments.
>
> Time can't be saved
> like in a bank.
> I thought I was biding my time
> while I was losing everything.
>
> As the North Highland
> sun blazed down.
> And as the cool white moon
> seemed to watch over it all.
>
> The big rooms
> and empty house
> suited my mood
> my lonesome and blue.
>
> Looking out my upstairs window
> dabbling on a canvas
> not a clue
> what was to come.
>
> Walked down to Forte's Pharmacy
> for a beer and some smokes
> the place is long gone now
> 35 years later.
>
> Back then it was
> the general store
> where the locals stood around
> shooting the breeze.
>
> Although relatively close
> the walk was winding
> to get around
> the far side of the factory.
>
> Found a girl named Margo
> she lived
> a few doors down
> from my place.
>
> She said she liked my music
> but had thought Bob Dylan's song
> was The Clash
> but I found her naivete charming.
>
> Took her out and played the game
> but my heart
> just wasn't in it
> I never saw Margo again
> after that night.
>
> At that time all seemed lost
> just goes to show
> I'm not much of a fortune teller
> but kept hope alive.
>
> Many nights seemed like others
> so I trudged
> through the days
> wrote poetry
> through the night.
>
> Crossed my heart
> and looked forward
> to good luck
> and happy days again.
>
> No happy ending
> was expected
> in the foreseeable future
> just more of the same.
>
> -Will Dockery
>
> ------------------------------
> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html

General-Zod wrote:

> Will Dockery wrote:
>>
>> Passage Through Ennui

>> 35 years ago
>> it was another
>> long bitter Summer
>> that dark humid July 1985.

>> I was working
>> the graveyard shift
>> operating one of the service elevators
>> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>> Galatea and I
>> had split up again
>> earlier in the year
>> after our explosive reunion
>> in 1983.

>> It ended quickly
>> after a huge fight
>> with her brother
>> over an old score
>> usually forgotten.

>> I won the fight
>> but actually lost.
>> Tracy gave up
>> and Galatea left with him.

>> The year
>> it all came apart
>> seemingly permanent.
>> Two years of good times
>> ended in a moonshine rage. .

>> All I could see was
>> a shut down gloom.
>> The only laughter I heard
>> was down in the break room.

>> The brown haze of factory air
>> angry faced people
>> and the music
>> of metal machines.

>> Working all night
>> sleeping all day.
>> Sipping coffee
>> to chase the road aspirins.

>> Sitting on the steps
>> over by a giant fan.
>> keeping up with my workers
>> usually five ladies
>> at the machines.

>> If one of the ladies
>> needed anything
>> they'd just look my way
>> and wave.

>> Several times a night
>> I'd make a buy and fly
>> bringing back coffee for them
>> on makeshift cardboard trays.

>> Jotting down notes
>> doodling narratives
>> creating reality
>> building Shadowville
>> from the ground up.

>> Riding my elevator
>> up and down
>> creating samizdat
>> in the smoking booth.

>> Down to the Reel room
>> my elevator filled
>> with empty racks
>> to bring up the full ones
>> for the ladies upstairs.

>> All night
>> keeping it rolling
>> making it smooth
>> for the ladies
>> to make production.

>> Finally to clock out
>> as the sad whistle would blow
>> we would stumble out the gate
>> into the grey dawn.

>> Some headed for breakfast
>> and a beer
>> while always I headed home
>> for sleep
>> as quickly as possible.

>> Living at Mockingbird Court
>> where I had shared a trailer
>> with my friend Bob Whitman
>> an Army vet turned factory worker.

>> Bob worked downstairs
>> at the Autoclave
>> the machine that steamed chemicals
>> into the yarn.

>> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
>> ran the huge Dryers
>> a super hot
>> chemical steam bath area.

>> Jim married
>> my childhood friend Pamela
>> and passed away too soon
>> from a heart attack

>> I'm not sure how workers
>> down there
>> survived the heat
>> and harsh smell.

>> Actually
>> I noticed not so well
>> as years went by
>> several old friends
>> still haunt me.

>> There was a guy named Bill
>> from Chicago
>> found in the Dryer room
>> coughing up blood from TB.

>> Chip, another Autoclave man
>> was found
>> giggling in the warehouse
>> up in the bales of fiber
>> one line of meth too many.

>> Little Rosell
>> on the Reels downstairs
>> hot little femme fatale
>> who I would know better later.

>> An unteresting lady
>> in her Daisy Duke shorts
>> and "Flashdance" shirt
>> she was the supervisors' choice.

>> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
>> found in a hallway
>> died there of old age.

>> The list goes on
>> many who did not survive
>> until the shut down day
>> another poem for another day.

>> At that time of the night
>> with machines all running right
>> many of us could wander
>> have some coffee
>> and get some fresh air.

>> Bob was a good friend
>> at the job
>> quick with a joke
>> or pass his pipe for a toke.

>> Many smokers and drinkers
>> would hang out
>> on the porch
>> outside the Autoclave room.

>> When he heard
>> of my latest domestic disaster
>> Bob offered
>> to rent me a room.

>> In a rented room
>> in Bob's trailer
>> like a scene from The Odd Couple
>> without the laughs.

>> The bottom fell out
>> we didn't get along
>> outside of the job
>> so I moved out
>> to North Highland.

>> I moved in
>> next door to the Holt family
>> old school mill folk
>> in the former mill village.

>> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
>> all worked at
>> Shadowville Spinning Mill
>> like their family before them.

>> Karen worked in the supply room
>> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
>> Don covered my job
>> during the say shift.

>> For some reason
>> it was important to them
>> that they tell Mr. Newberry
>> that I was their cousin.

>> I never did figure that out
>> but it was cool with me.
>> I liked them all
>> they were down to Earth folks.

>> The day I moved in
>> I had my music playing loud
>> outside my window
>> was the river
>> and then Alabama.

>> I would never have imagined
>> how that area would look now
>> with the row of houses demolished
>> and with the Riverwalk below.

>> I was two floors up
>> but I still felt
>> like a mole
>> like a subterranean.

>> Wake up
>> it was Monday
>> I could hear Billy Teakson
>> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
>> down below.

>> Billy was an old school
>> Card and Blending room man
>> never late
>> sick or well he was on the job.

>> Slither down the stairs
>> so far so good
>> jump in and ride on
>> the the alternate universe
>> the factory.

>> He never failed
>> to have a spare Budweiser
>> and a smoke
>> for the short ride to
>> Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>> We'd get there in time
>> to stand around the parking lot
>> and catch a few words
>> with the crew.

>> Then the whistle would blow
>> and it was on your mark
>> sail through 12 hours of dream
>> in another land.

>> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
>> mill coffee
>> and then
>> in a determined stroll.

>> Up to the Bobbin Winders
>> and the upstairs Reels
>> to catch everything up quick
>> get the game going right.

>> Then down the elevator
>> to the Spinning room
>> sweat shop
>> a dozen ladies
>> smoking and yelling conversations.

>> Loud roaring
>> antique seeming machinery
>> all all points
>> no escape from
>> the chaos and thunder.

>> Get it all caught up
>> then down to the sub basement
>> to pick up the prize left for me
>> by Don
>> my first shift doppelganger.

>> Any time Don
>> skipped out early
>> and left everything
>> off the mark, it was no problem.

>> He'd leave me a joint
>> at a certain spot
>> in the sub basement.

>> The basement was
>> creepy enough
>> but the sub basement
>> seemed right out
>> of a horror movie.

>> Needless to say
>> I'd keep my head down
>> and would try to get out
>> of the sub basement quickly.

>> I had been distributing
>> my broadsheets
>> among my co-worker friends
>> news of the day
>> with a twist.

>> They were entertained
>> by my poetry
>> and comic strips
>> looking for themselves
>> in the lines on paper.

>> Pat, the personnel director
>> called me in her office
>> and put the kibosh
>> on my broadsheet.

>> My poetry and art zine
>> had violated the strict
>> "No Distribution" policy
>> that no outside reading
>> was permitted inside the mill gates.

>> Since I had not been
>> aware of this policy
>> I apologized
>> and kept the broadsides
>> outside the gates from then on.

On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 7:34:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> Will Dockery wrote:
>
> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:19:30 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> >> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> >> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> >> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
> >> >
> >> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
> >> >
> >> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> >> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
> >> >
> >> > Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already
> >> You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.
> > Definitely seems to homoerotica on the brain.
>
> > HTH and HAND.
>
> Yep, no doubt about it.
>
> Ha ha.

I don't know which is funnier here.
The fact that you two fellating idiots can't see that you are doing EXACTLY what I posted about
OR the stupidity shown by the two of you sharing a single brain cell.

Family Guy wrote:

> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 7:34:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> Will Dockery wrote:
>>
>> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:19:30 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> >> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:10:18 PM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
>> >> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 5:01:20 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> >> > > On Sunday, November 27, 2022 at 7:12:13 PM UTC-5, Will Dockery wrote:
>> >> >
>> >> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
>> >> >
>> >> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> >> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>> >> >
>> >> > Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already
>> >> You still have your weird little fantasies I see.... ha ha.
>> > Definitely seems to homoerotica on the brain.
>>
>> > HTH and HAND.
>>
>> Yep, no doubt about it.
>>
>> Ha ha.

>
> you two fellating

Another fantasy, Dink?

🙂

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:03:28 AM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 7:34:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > Will Dockery wrote:
>
> > >> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
> > >> >
> > >> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > >> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>
> I don't know

I notice you never know very much, DINK.... ha ha....

Zod wrote:

> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:03:28 AM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
>> On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 7:34:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
>> > Will Dockery wrote:
>>
>> > >> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
>> > >> >
>> > >> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> > >> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>>
>> I don't know

> I notice you never know very much, DINK.... ha ha....

What could we expect from an obsessed nutjob like Dink?

🙂

On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:53:35 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> On Saturday, December 3, 2022 at 3:03:28 AM UTC-5, Family Guy wrote:
> > On Monday, November 28, 2022 at 7:34:14 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> > > Will Dockery wrote:
> >
> > > >> > > > >> This poem is another based on true events.
> > > >> >
> > > >> > > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > > >> > > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
> >
> > I don't know
>
> I notice you never know very much, DINK.... ha ha....

Trolling is his only talent.

General-Zod wrote:

> Will Dockery wrote:
>
>> Passage Through Ennui

>> 35 years ago
>> it was another
>> long bitter Summer
>> that dark humid July 1985.

>> I was working
>> the graveyard shift
>> operating one of the service elevators
>> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>> Galatea and I
>> had split up again
>> earlier in the year
>> after our explosive reunion
>> in 1983.

>> It ended quickly
>> after a huge fight
>> with her brother
>> over an old score
>> usually forgotten.

>> I won the fight
>> but actually lost.
>> Tracy gave up
>> and Galatea left with him.

>> The year
>> it all came apart
>> seemingly permanent.
>> Two years of good times
>> ended in a moonshine rage. .

>> All I could see was
>> a shut down gloom.
>> The only laughter I heard
>> was down in the break room.

>> The brown haze of factory air
>> angry faced people
>> and the music
>> of metal machines.

>> Working all night
>> sleeping all day.
>> Sipping coffee
>> to chase the road aspirins.

>> Sitting on the steps
>> over by a giant fan.
>> keeping up with my workers
>> usually five ladies
>> at the machines.

>> If one of the ladies
>> needed anything
>> they'd just look my way
>> and wave.

>> Several times a night
>> I'd make a buy and fly
>> bringing back coffee for them
>> on makeshift cardboard trays.

>> Jotting down notes
>> doodling narratives
>> creating reality
>> building Shadowville
>> from the ground up.

>> Riding my elevator
>> up and down
>> creating samizdat
>> in the smoking booth.

>> Down to the Reel room
>> my elevator filled
>> with empty racks
>> to bring up the full ones
>> for the ladies upstairs.

>> All night
>> keeping it rolling
>> making it smooth
>> for the ladies
>> to make production.

>> Finally to clock out
>> as the sad whistle would blow
>> we would stumble out the gate
>> into the grey dawn.

>> Some headed for breakfast
>> and a beer
>> while always I headed home
>> for sleep
>> as quickly as possible.

>> Living at Mockingbird Court
>> where I had shared a trailer
>> with my friend Bob Whitman
>> an Army vet turned factory worker.

>> Bob worked downstairs
>> at the Autoclave
>> the machine that steamed chemicals
>> into the yarn.

>> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
>> ran the huge Dryers
>> a super hot
>> chemical steam bath area.

>> Jim married
>> my childhood friend Pamela
>> and passed away too soon
>> from a heart attack

>> I'm not sure how workers
>> down there
>> survived the heat
>> and harsh smell.

>> Actually
>> I noticed not so well
>> as years went by
>> several old friends
>> still haunt me.

>> There was a guy named Bill
>> from Chicago
>> found in the Dryer room
>> coughing up blood from TB.

>> Chip, another Autoclave man
>> was found
>> giggling in the warehouse
>> up in the bales of fiber
>> one line of meth too many.

>> Little Rosell
>> on the Reels downstairs
>> hot little femme fatale
>> who I would know better later.

>> An unteresting lady
>> in her Daisy Duke shorts
>> and "Flashdance" shirt
>> she was the supervisors' choice.

>> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
>> found in a hallway
>> died there of old age.

>> The list goes on
>> many who did not survive
>> until the shut down day
>> another poem for another day.

>> At that time of the night
>> with machines all running right
>> many of us could wander
>> have some coffee
>> and get some fresh air.

>> Bob was a good friend
>> at the job
>> quick with a joke
>> or pass his pipe for a toke.

>> Many smokers and drinkers
>> would hang out
>> on the porch
>> outside the Autoclave room.

>> When he heard
>> of my latest domestic disaster
>> Bob offered
>> to rent me a room.

>> In a rented room
>> in Bob's trailer
>> like a scene from The Odd Couple
>> without the laughs.

>> The bottom fell out
>> we didn't get along
>> outside of the job
>> so I moved out
>> to North Highland.

>> I moved in
>> next door to the Holt family
>> old school mill folk
>> in the former mill village.

>> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
>> all worked at
>> Shadowville Spinning Mill
>> like their family before them.

>> Karen worked in the supply room
>> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
>> Don covered my job
>> during the say shift.

>> For some reason
>> it was important to them
>> that they tell Mr. Newberry
>> that I was their cousin.

>> I never did figure that out
>> but it was cool with me.
>> I liked them all
>> they were down to Earth folks.

>> The day I moved in
>> I had my music playing loud
>> outside my window
>> was the river
>> and then Alabama.

>> I would never have imagined
>> how that area would look now
>> with the row of houses demolished
>> and with the Riverwalk below.

>> I was two floors up
>> but I still felt
>> like a mole
>> like a subterranean.

>> Wake up
>> it was Monday
>> I could hear Billy Teakson
>> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
>> down below.

>> Billy was an old school
>> Card and Blending room man
>> never late
>> sick or well he was on the job.

>> Slither down the stairs
>> so far so good
>> jump in and ride on
>> the the alternate universe
>> the factory.

>> He never failed
>> to have a spare Budweiser
>> and a smoke
>> for the short ride to
>> Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>> We'd get there in time
>> to stand around the parking lot
>> and catch a few words
>> with the crew.

>> Then the whistle would blow
>> and it was on your mark
>> sail through 12 hours of dream
>> in another land.

>> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
>> mill coffee
>> and then
>> in a determined stroll.

>> Up to the Bobbin Winders
>> and the upstairs Reels
>> to catch everything up quick
>> get the game going right.

>> Then down the elevator
>> to the Spinning room
>> sweat shop
>> a dozen ladies
>> smoking and yelling conversations.

>> Loud roaring
>> antique seeming machinery
>> all all points
>> no escape from
>> the chaos and thunder.

>> Get it all caught up
>> then down to the sub basement
>> to pick up the prize left for me
>> by Don
>> my first shift doppelganger.

>> Any time Don
>> skipped out early
>> and left everything
>> off the mark, it was no problem.

>> He'd leave me a joint
>> at a certain spot
>> in the sub basement.

>> The basement was
>> creepy enough
>> but the sub basement
>> seemed right out
>> of a horror movie.

>> Needless to say
>> I'd keep my head down
>> and would try to get out
>> of the sub basement quickly.

>> I had been distributing
>> my broadsheets
>> among my co-worker friends
>> news of the day
>> with a twist.

>> They were entertained
>> by my poetry
>> and comic strips
>> looking for themselves
>> in the lines on paper.

>> Pat, the personnel director
>> called me in her office
>> and put the kibosh
>> on my broadsheet.

>> My poetry and art zine
>> had violated the strict
>> "No Distribution" policy
>> that no outside reading
>> was permitted inside the mill gates.

>> Since I had not been
>> aware of this policy
>> I apologized
>> and kept the broadsides
>> outside the gates from then on.

Will Dockery wrote:
>
> Passage Through Ennui
>
> 35 years ago
> it was another
> long bitter Summer
> that dark humid July 1985.
>
> I was working
> the graveyard shift
> operating one of the service elevators
> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.
>
> Galatea and I
> had split up again
> earlier in the year
> after our explosive reunion
> in 1983.
>
> It ended quickly
> after a huge fight
> with her brother
> over an old score
> usually forgotten.
>
> I won the fight
> but actually lost.
> Tracy gave up
> and Galatea left with him.
>
> The year
> it all came apart
> seemingly permanent.
> Two years of good times
> ended in a moonshine rage. .
>
> All I could see was
> a shut down gloom.
> The only laughter I heard
> was down in the break room.
>
> The brown haze of factory air
> angry faced people
> and the music
> of metal machines.
>
> Working all night
> sleeping all day.
> Sipping coffee
> to chase the road aspirins.
>
> Sitting on the steps
> over by a giant fan.
> keeping up with my workers
> usually five ladies
> at the machines.
>
> If one of the ladies
> needed anything
> they'd just look my way
> and wave.
>
> Several times a night
> I'd make a buy and fly
> bringing back coffee for them
> on makeshift cardboard trays.
>
> Jotting down notes
> doodling narratives
> creating reality
> building Shadowville
> from the ground up.
>
> Riding my elevator
> up and down
> creating samizdat
> in the smoking booth.
>
> Down to the Reel room
> my elevator filled
> with empty racks
> to bring up the full ones
> for the ladies upstairs.
>
> All night
> keeping it rolling
> making it smooth
> for the ladies
> to make production.
>
> Finally to clock out
> as the sad whistle would blow
> we would stumble out the gate
> into the grey dawn.
>
> Some headed for breakfast
> and a beer
> while always I headed home
> for sleep
> as quickly as possible.
>
> Living at Mockingbird Court
> where I had shared a trailer
> with my friend Bob Whitman
> an Army vet turned factory worker.
>
> Bob worked downstairs
> at the Autoclave
> the machine that steamed chemicals
> into the yarn.
>
> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
> ran the huge Dryers
> a super hot
> chemical steam bath area.
>
> Jim married
> my childhood friend Pamela
> and passed away too soon
> from a heart attack
>
> I'm not sure how workers
> down there
> survived the heat
> and harsh smell.
>
> Actually
> I noticed not so well
> as years went by
> several old friends
> still haunt me.
>
> There was a guy named Bill
> from Chicago
> found in the Dryer room
> coughing up blood from TB.
>
> Chip, another Autoclave man
> was found
> giggling in the warehouse
> up in the bales of fiber
> one line of meth too many.
>
> Little Rosell
> on the Reels downstairs
> hot little femme fatale
> who I would know better later.
>
> An unteresting lady
> in her Daisy Duke shorts
> and "Flashdance" shirt
> she was the supervisors' choice.
>
> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
> found in a hallway
> died there of old age.
>
> The list goes on
> many who did not survive
> until the shut down day
> another poem for another day.
>
> At that time of the night
> with machines all running right
> many of us could wander
> have some coffee
> and get some fresh air.
>
> Bob was a good friend
> at the job
> quick with a joke
> or pass his pipe for a toke.
>
> Many smokers and drinkers
> would hang out
> on the porch
> outside the Autoclave room.
>
> When he heard
> of my latest domestic disaster
> Bob offered
> to rent me a room.
>
> In a rented room
> in Bob's trailer
> like a scene from The Odd Couple
> without the laughs.
>
> The bottom fell out
> we didn't get along
> outside of the job
> so I moved out
> to North Highland.
>
> I moved in
> next door to the Holt family
> old school mill folk
> in the former mill village.
>
> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
> all worked at
> Shadowville Spinning Mill
> like their family before them.
>
> Karen worked in the supply room
> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
> Don covered my job
> during the say shift.
>
> For some reason
> it was important to them
> that they tell Mr. Newberry
> that I was their cousin.
>
> I never did figure that out
> but it was cool with me.
> I liked them all
> they were down to Earth folks.
>
> The day I moved in
> I had my music playing loud
> outside my window
> was the river
> and then Alabama.
>
> I would never have imagined
> how that area would look now
> with the row of houses demolished
> and with the Riverwalk below.
>
> I was two floors up
> but I still felt
> like a mole
> like a subterranean.
>
> Wake up
> it was Monday
> I could hear Billy Teakson
> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
> down below.
>
> Billy was an old school
> Card and Blending room man
> never late
> sick or well he was on the job.
>
> Slither down the stairs
> so far so good
> jump in and ride on
> the the alternate universe
> the factory.
>
> He never failed
> to have a spare Budweiser
> and a smoke
> for the short ride to
> Shadowville Spinning Mill.
>
> We'd get there in time
> to stand around the parking lot
> and catch a few words
> with the crew.
>
> Then the whistle would blow
> and it was on your mark
> sail through 12 hours of dream
> in another land.
>
> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
> mill coffee
> and then
> in a determined stroll.
>
> Up to the Bobbin Winders
> and the upstairs Reels
> to catch everything up quick
> get the game going right.
>
> Then down the elevator
> to the Spinning room
> sweat shop
> a dozen ladies
> smoking and yelling conversations.
>
> Loud roaring
> antique seeming machinery
> all all points
> no escape from
> the chaos and thunder.
>
> Get it all caught up
> then down to the sub basement
> to pick up the prize left for me
> by Don
> my first shift doppelganger.
>
> Any time Don
> skipped out early
> and left everything
> off the mark, it was no problem.
>
> He'd leave me a joint
> at a certain spot
> in the sub basement.
>
> The basement was
> creepy enough
> but the sub basement
> seemed right out
> of a horror movie.
>
> Needless to say
> I'd keep my head down
> and would try to get out
> of the sub basement quickly.
>
> I had been distributing
> my broadsheets
> among my co-worker friends
> news of the day
> with a twist.
>
> They were entertained
> by my poetry
> and comic strips
> looking for themselves
> in the lines on paper.
>
> Pat, the personnel director
> called me in her office
> and put the kibosh
> on my broadsheet.
>
> My poetry and art zine
> had violated the strict
> "No Distribution" policy
> that no outside reading
> was permitted inside the mill gates.
>
> Since I had not been
> aware of this policy
> I apologized
> and kept the broadsides
> outside the gates from then on.
>
> Absolutely
> no foreknowledge
> of what was coming next
> taking one minute at a time.
>
> Getting from one minute
> to the next
> always in a hurry
> caught up in the time
> flashing by.
>
> Not even giving a damn
> or so I told myself
> by that point in time
> hoping for a speedy turnabout.
>
> I never could have foreseen
> twenty years later in 2005
> standing in a crowd
> watching the old mill in flames
>
> I was living
> in the worn out townhouse
> at 3226 River Avenue
> once part of a mill village.
>
> First week of the month
> was always annoying
> so much noise
> as I tried to sleep.
>
> All day hearing Mr. Newberry
> beating on the sides
> of the houses with his cane
> trying to collect his rent money.
>
> Alone
> in my upstairs office
> writing my manifesto
> in poetry and comic strips.
>
> Right side duplex
> next door to the Holden family.
> Two stories overlooking
> the dark green Chattahoochee.
>
> If I had the foresight
> I would know sitting and waiting
> was wasting precious time
> the cruelty of moments.
>
> Time can't be saved
> like in a bank.
> I thought I was biding my time
> while I was losing everything.
>
> As the North Highland
> sun blazed down.
> And as the cool white moon
> seemed to watch over it all.
>
> The big rooms
> and empty house
> suited my mood
> my lonesome and blue.
>
> Looking out my upstairs window
> dabbling on a canvas
> not a clue
> what was to come.
>
> Walked down to Forte's Pharmacy
> for a beer and some smokes
> the place is long gone now
> 35 years later.
>
> Back then it was
> the general store
> where the locals stood around
> shooting the breeze.
>
> Although relatively close
> the walk was winding
> to get around
> the far side of the factory.
>
> Found a girl named Margo
> she lived
> a few doors down
> from my place.
>
> She said she liked my music
> but had thought Bob Dylan's song
> was The Clash
> but I found her naivete charming.
>
> Took her out and played the game
> but my heart
> just wasn't in it
> I never saw Margo again
> after that night.
>
> At that time all seemed lost
> just goes to show
> I'm not much of a fortune teller
> but kept hope alive.
>
> Many nights seemed like others
> so I trudged
> through the days
> wrote poetry
> through the night.
>
> Crossed my heart
> and looked forward
> to good luck
> and happy days again.
>
> No happy ending
> was expected
> in the foreseeable future
> just more of the same.
>
> -Will Dockery
>
> ------------------------------
> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html

Family Guy wrote:

> Zod wrote:
>> Will Dockery wrote:
>> > Family Guy wrote:
>> > > Will Dockery wrote:
>
>> > >> This poem is another based on true events.
>> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
>
>> > > You getting high?
>> > > That was shit.
>> > That's probably just your upper lip you smell, Dink.
>
>> Ha ha... from having his nose up Chad and Greg's ass..?
>>
>> Ha ha.

> Would you two Brokebum Mountain idiots just get a tent already and shut the hell up?

Speaking of shutting the Hell up, why don't you try that for a change, Dink?

HTH and HAND.

On Saturday, December 10, 2022 at 5:28:36 PM UTC-5, Zod wrote:
> Will Dockery wrote:
> >
> > Passage Through Ennui
> >
> > 35 years ago
> > it was another
> > long bitter Summer
> > that dark humid July 1985.
> >
> > I was working
> > the graveyard shift
> > operating one of the service elevators
> > at Shadowville Spinning Mill.
> >
> > Galatea and I
> > had split up again
> > earlier in the year
> > after our explosive reunion
> > in 1983.
> >
> > It ended quickly
> > after a huge fight
> > with her brother
> > over an old score
> > usually forgotten.
> >
> > I won the fight
> > but actually lost.
> > Tracy gave up
> > and Galatea left with him.
> >
> > The year
> > it all came apart
> > seemingly permanent.
> > Two years of good times
> > ended in a moonshine rage. .
> >
> > All I could see was
> > a shut down gloom.
> > The only laughter I heard
> > was down in the break room.
> >
> > The brown haze of factory air
> > angry faced people
> > and the music
> > of metal machines.
> >
> > Working all night
> > sleeping all day.
> > Sipping coffee
> > to chase the road aspirins.
> >
> > Sitting on the steps
> > over by a giant fan.
> > keeping up with my workers
> > usually five ladies
> > at the machines.
> >
> > If one of the ladies
> > needed anything
> > they'd just look my way
> > and wave.
> >
> > Several times a night
> > I'd make a buy and fly
> > bringing back coffee for them
> > on makeshift cardboard trays.
> >
> > Jotting down notes
> > doodling narratives
> > creating reality
> > building Shadowville
> > from the ground up.
> >
> > Riding my elevator
> > up and down
> > creating samizdat
> > in the smoking booth.
> >
> > Down to the Reel room
> > my elevator filled
> > with empty racks
> > to bring up the full ones
> > for the ladies upstairs.
> >
> > All night
> > keeping it rolling
> > making it smooth
> > for the ladies
> > to make production.
> >
> > Finally to clock out
> > as the sad whistle would blow
> > we would stumble out the gate
> > into the grey dawn.
> >
> > Some headed for breakfast
> > and a beer
> > while always I headed home
> > for sleep
> > as quickly as possible.
> >
> > Living at Mockingbird Court
> > where I had shared a trailer
> > with my friend Bob Whitman
> > an Army vet turned factory worker.
> >
> > Bob worked downstairs
> > at the Autoclave
> > the machine that steamed chemicals
> > into the yarn.
> >
> > Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
> > ran the huge Dryers
> > a super hot
> > chemical steam bath area.
> >
> > Jim married
> > my childhood friend Pamela
> > and passed away too soon
> > from a heart attack
> >
> > I'm not sure how workers
> > down there
> > survived the heat
> > and harsh smell.
> >
> > Actually
> > I noticed not so well
> > as years went by
> > several old friends
> > still haunt me.
> >
> > There was a guy named Bill
> > from Chicago
> > found in the Dryer room
> > coughing up blood from TB.
> >
> > Chip, another Autoclave man
> > was found
> > giggling in the warehouse
> > up in the bales of fiber
> > one line of meth too many.
> >
> > Little Rosell
> > on the Reels downstairs
> > hot little femme fatale
> > who I would know better later.
> >
> > An unteresting lady
> > in her Daisy Duke shorts
> > and "Flashdance" shirt
> > she was the supervisors' choice.
> >
> > Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
> > found in a hallway
> > died there of old age.
> >
> > The list goes on
> > many who did not survive
> > until the shut down day
> > another poem for another day.
> >
> > At that time of the night
> > with machines all running right
> > many of us could wander
> > have some coffee
> > and get some fresh air.
> >
> > Bob was a good friend
> > at the job
> > quick with a joke
> > or pass his pipe for a toke.
> >
> > Many smokers and drinkers
> > would hang out
> > on the porch
> > outside the Autoclave room.
> >
> > When he heard
> > of my latest domestic disaster
> > Bob offered
> > to rent me a room.
> >
> > In a rented room
> > in Bob's trailer
> > like a scene from The Odd Couple
> > without the laughs.
> >
> > The bottom fell out
> > we didn't get along
> > outside of the job
> > so I moved out
> > to North Highland.
> >
> > I moved in
> > next door to the Holt family
> > old school mill folk
> > in the former mill village.
> >
> > Don, Walter and Karen Holden
> > all worked at
> > Shadowville Spinning Mill
> > like their family before them.
> >
> > Karen worked in the supply room
> > Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
> > Don covered my job
> > during the say shift.
> >
> > For some reason
> > it was important to them
> > that they tell Mr. Newberry
> > that I was their cousin.
> >
> > I never did figure that out
> > but it was cool with me.
> > I liked them all
> > they were down to Earth folks.
> >
> > The day I moved in
> > I had my music playing loud
> > outside my window
> > was the river
> > and then Alabama.
> >
> > I would never have imagined
> > how that area would look now
> > with the row of houses demolished
> > and with the Riverwalk below.
> >
> > I was two floors up
> > but I still felt
> > like a mole
> > like a subterranean.
> >
> > Wake up
> > it was Monday
> > I could hear Billy Teakson
> > blowing his horn in his pickup truck
> > down below.
> >
> > Billy was an old school
> > Card and Blending room man
> > never late
> > sick or well he was on the job.
> >
> > Slither down the stairs
> > so far so good
> > jump in and ride on
> > the the alternate universe
> > the factory.
> >
> > He never failed
> > to have a spare Budweiser
> > and a smoke
> > for the short ride to
> > Shadowville Spinning Mill.
> >
> > We'd get there in time
> > to stand around the parking lot
> > and catch a few words
> > with the crew.
> >
> > Then the whistle would blow
> > and it was on your mark
> > sail through 12 hours of dream
> > in another land.
> >
> > Grabbed a cup of rotgut
> > mill coffee
> > and then
> > in a determined stroll.
> >
> > Up to the Bobbin Winders
> > and the upstairs Reels
> > to catch everything up quick
> > get the game going right.
> >
> > Then down the elevator
> > to the Spinning room
> > sweat shop
> > a dozen ladies
> > smoking and yelling conversations.
> >
> > Loud roaring
> > antique seeming machinery
> > all all points
> > no escape from
> > the chaos and thunder.
> >
> > Get it all caught up
> > then down to the sub basement
> > to pick up the prize left for me
> > by Don
> > my first shift doppelganger.
> >
> > Any time Don
> > skipped out early
> > and left everything
> > off the mark, it was no problem.
> >
> > He'd leave me a joint
> > at a certain spot
> > in the sub basement.
> >
> > The basement was
> > creepy enough
> > but the sub basement
> > seemed right out
> > of a horror movie.
> >
> > Needless to say
> > I'd keep my head down
> > and would try to get out
> > of the sub basement quickly.
> >
> > I had been distributing
> > my broadsheets
> > among my co-worker friends
> > news of the day
> > with a twist.
> >
> > They were entertained
> > by my poetry
> > and comic strips
> > looking for themselves
> > in the lines on paper.
> >
> > Pat, the personnel director
> > called me in her office
> > and put the kibosh
> > on my broadsheet.
> >
> > My poetry and art zine
> > had violated the strict
> > "No Distribution" policy
> > that no outside reading
> > was permitted inside the mill gates.
> >
> > Since I had not been
> > aware of this policy
> > I apologized
> > and kept the broadsides
> > outside the gates from then on.
> >
> > Absolutely
> > no foreknowledge
> > of what was coming next
> > taking one minute at a time.
> >
> > Getting from one minute
> > to the next
> > always in a hurry
> > caught up in the time
> > flashing by.
> >
> > Not even giving a damn
> > or so I told myself
> > by that point in time
> > hoping for a speedy turnabout.
> >
> > I never could have foreseen
> > twenty years later in 2005
> > standing in a crowd
> > watching the old mill in flames
> >
> > I was living
> > in the worn out townhouse
> > at 3226 River Avenue
> > once part of a mill village.
> >
> > First week of the month
> > was always annoying
> > so much noise
> > as I tried to sleep.
> >
> > All day hearing Mr. Newberry
> > beating on the sides
> > of the houses with his cane
> > trying to collect his rent money.
> >
> > Alone
> > in my upstairs office
> > writing my manifesto
> > in poetry and comic strips.
> >
> > Right side duplex
> > next door to the Holden family.
> > Two stories overlooking
> > the dark green Chattahoochee.
> >
> > If I had the foresight
> > I would know sitting and waiting
> > was wasting precious time
> > the cruelty of moments.
> >
> > Time can't be saved
> > like in a bank.
> > I thought I was biding my time
> > while I was losing everything.
> >
> > As the North Highland
> > sun blazed down.
> > And as the cool white moon
> > seemed to watch over it all.
> >
> > The big rooms
> > and empty house
> > suited my mood
> > my lonesome and blue.
> >
> > Looking out my upstairs window
> > dabbling on a canvas
> > not a clue
> > what was to come.
> >
> > Walked down to Forte's Pharmacy
> > for a beer and some smokes
> > the place is long gone now
> > 35 years later.
> >
> > Back then it was
> > the general store
> > where the locals stood around
> > shooting the breeze.
> >
> > Although relatively close
> > the walk was winding
> > to get around
> > the far side of the factory.
> >
> > Found a girl named Margo
> > she lived
> > a few doors down
> > from my place.
> >
> > She said she liked my music
> > but had thought Bob Dylan's song
> > was The Clash
> > but I found her naivete charming.
> >
> > Took her out and played the game
> > but my heart
> > just wasn't in it
> > I never saw Margo again
> > after that night.
> >
> > At that time all seemed lost
> > just goes to show
> > I'm not much of a fortune teller
> > but kept hope alive.
> >
> > Many nights seemed like others
> > so I trudged
> > through the days
> > wrote poetry
> > through the night.
> >
> > Crossed my heart
> > and looked forward
> > to good luck
> > and happy days again.
> >
> > No happy ending
> > was expected
> > in the foreseeable future
> > just more of the same.
> >
> > -Will Dockery
> >
> > ------------------------------
> > From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
> > https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html
> Third read... still a very powerful poem, Doc....

Will Dockery wrote:
>
> Passage Through Ennui

> 35 years ago
> it was another
> long bitter Summer
> that dark humid July 1985.

> I was working
> the graveyard shift
> operating one of the service elevators
> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.

> Galatea and I
> had split up again
> earlier in the year
> after our explosive reunion
> in 1983.

> It ended quickly
> after a huge fight
> with her brother
> over an old score
> usually forgotten.

> I won the fight
> but actually lost.
> Tracy gave up
> and Galatea left with him.

> The year
> it all came apart
> seemingly permanent.
> Two years of good times
> ended in a moonshine rage. .

> All I could see was
> a shut down gloom.
> The only laughter I heard
> was down in the break room.

> The brown haze of factory air
> angry faced people
> and the music
> of metal machines.

> Working all night
> sleeping all day.
> Sipping coffee
> to chase the road aspirins.

> Sitting on the steps
> over by a giant fan.
> keeping up with my workers
> usually five ladies
> at the machines.

> If one of the ladies
> needed anything
> they'd just look my way
> and wave.

> Several times a night
> I'd make a buy and fly
> bringing back coffee for them
> on makeshift cardboard trays.

> Jotting down notes
> doodling narratives
> creating reality
> building Shadowville
> from the ground up.

> Riding my elevator
> up and down
> creating samizdat
> in the smoking booth.

> Down to the Reel room
> my elevator filled
> with empty racks
> to bring up the full ones
> for the ladies upstairs.

> All night
> keeping it rolling
> making it smooth
> for the ladies
> to make production.

> Finally to clock out
> as the sad whistle would blow
> we would stumble out the gate
> into the grey dawn.

> Some headed for breakfast
> and a beer
> while always I headed home
> for sleep
> as quickly as possible.

> Living at Mockingbird Court
> where I had shared a trailer
> with my friend Bob Whitman
> an Army vet turned factory worker.

> Bob worked downstairs
> at the Autoclave
> the machine that steamed chemicals
> into the yarn.

> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
> ran the huge Dryers
> a super hot
> chemical steam bath area.

> Jim married
> my childhood friend Pamela
> and passed away too soon
> from a heart attack

> I'm not sure how workers
> down there
> survived the heat
> and harsh smell.

> Actually
> I noticed not so well
> as years went by
> several old friends
> still haunt me.

> There was a guy named Bill
> from Chicago
> found in the Dryer room
> coughing up blood from TB.

> Chip, another Autoclave man
> was found
> giggling in the warehouse
> up in the bales of fiber
> one line of meth too many.

> Little Rosell
> on the Reels downstairs
> hot little femme fatale
> who I would know better later.

> An unteresting lady
> in her Daisy Duke shorts
> and "Flashdance" shirt
> she was the supervisors' choice.

> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
> found in a hallway
> died there of old age.

> The list goes on
> many who did not survive
> until the shut down day
> another poem for another day.

> At that time of the night
> with machines all running right
> many of us could wander
> have some coffee
> and get some fresh air.

> Bob was a good friend
> at the job
> quick with a joke
> or pass his pipe for a toke.

> Many smokers and drinkers
> would hang out
> on the porch
> outside the Autoclave room.

> When he heard
> of my latest domestic disaster
> Bob offered
> to rent me a room.

> In a rented room
> in Bob's trailer
> like a scene from The Odd Couple
> without the laughs.

> The bottom fell out
> we didn't get along
> outside of the job
> so I moved out
> to North Highland.

> I moved in
> next door to the Holt family
> old school mill folk
> in the former mill village.

> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
> all worked at
> Shadowville Spinning Mill
> like their family before them.

> Karen worked in the supply room
> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
> Don covered my job
> during the say shift.

> For some reason
> it was important to them
> that they tell Mr. Newberry
> that I was their cousin.

> I never did figure that out
> but it was cool with me.
> I liked them all
> they were down to Earth folks.

> The day I moved in
> I had my music playing loud
> outside my window
> was the river
> and then Alabama.

> I would never have imagined
> how that area would look now
> with the row of houses demolished
> and with the Riverwalk below.

> I was two floors up
> but I still felt
> like a mole
> like a subterranean.

> Wake up
> it was Monday
> I could hear Billy Teakson
> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
> down below.

> Billy was an old school
> Card and Blending room man
> never late
> sick or well he was on the job.

> Slither down the stairs
> so far so good
> jump in and ride on
> the the alternate universe
> the factory.

> He never failed
> to have a spare Budweiser
> and a smoke
> for the short ride to
> Shadowville Spinning Mill.

> We'd get there in time
> to stand around the parking lot
> and catch a few words
> with the crew.

> Then the whistle would blow
> and it was on your mark
> sail through 12 hours of dream
> in another land.

> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
> mill coffee
> and then
> in a determined stroll.

> Up to the Bobbin Winders
> and the upstairs Reels
> to catch everything up quick
> get the game going right.

> Then down the elevator
> to the Spinning room
> sweat shop
> a dozen ladies
> smoking and yelling conversations.

> Loud roaring
> antique seeming machinery
> all all points
> no escape from
> the chaos and thunder.

> Get it all caught up
> then down to the sub basement
> to pick up the prize left for me
> by Don
> my first shift doppelganger.

> Any time Don
> skipped out early
> and left everything
> off the mark, it was no problem.

> He'd leave me a joint
> at a certain spot
> in the sub basement.

> The basement was
> creepy enough
> but the sub basement
> seemed right out
> of a horror movie.

> Needless to say
> I'd keep my head down
> and would try to get out
> of the sub basement quickly.

> I had been distributing
> my broadsheets
> among my co-worker friends
> news of the day
> with a twist.

> They were entertained
> by my poetry
> and comic strips
> looking for themselves
> in the lines on paper.

> Pat, the personnel director
> called me in her office
> and put the kibosh
> on my broadsheet.

> My poetry and art zine
> had violated the strict
> "No Distribution" policy
> that no outside reading
> was permitted inside the mill gates.

> Since I had not been
> aware of this policy
> I apologized
> and kept the broadsides
> outside the gates from then on.

> Absolutely
> no foreknowledge
> of what was coming next
> taking one minute at a time.

> Getting from one minute
> to the next
> always in a hurry
> caught up in the time
> flashing by.

> Not even giving a damn
> or so I told myself
> by that point in time
> hoping for a speedy turnabout.

> I never could have foreseen
> twenty years later in 2005
> standing in a crowd
> watching the old mill in flames

> I was living
> in the worn out townhouse
> at 3226 River Avenue
> once part of a mill village.

> First week of the month
> was always annoying
> so much noise
> as I tried to sleep.

> All day hearing Mr. Newberry
> beating on the sides
> of the houses with his cane
> trying to collect his rent money.

> Alone
> in my upstairs office
> writing my manifesto
> in poetry and comic strips.

General-Zod wrote:

> Will Dockery wrote:
>>
>> Passage Through Ennui
>
>> 35 years ago
>> it was another
>> long bitter Summer
>> that dark humid July 1985.

>> I was working
>> the graveyard shift
>> operating one of the service elevators
>> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>> Galatea and I
>> had split up again
>> earlier in the year
>> after our explosive reunion
>> in 1983.

>> It ended quickly
>> after a huge fight
>> with her brother
>> over an old score
>> usually forgotten.

>> I won the fight
>> but actually lost.
>> Tracy gave up
>> and Galatea left with him.

>> The year
>> it all came apart
>> seemingly permanent.
>> Two years of good times
>> ended in a moonshine rage. .

>> All I could see was
>> a shut down gloom.
>> The only laughter I heard
>> was down in the break room.

>> The brown haze of factory air
>> angry faced people
>> and the music
>> of metal machines.

>> Working all night
>> sleeping all day.
>> Sipping coffee
>> to chase the road aspirins.

>> Sitting on the steps
>> over by a giant fan.
>> keeping up with my workers
>> usually five ladies
>> at the machines.

>> If one of the ladies
>> needed anything
>> they'd just look my way
>> and wave.

>> Several times a night
>> I'd make a buy and fly
>> bringing back coffee for them
>> on makeshift cardboard trays.

>> Jotting down notes
>> doodling narratives
>> creating reality
>> building Shadowville
>> from the ground up.

>> Riding my elevator
>> up and down
>> creating samizdat
>> in the smoking booth.

>> Down to the Reel room
>> my elevator filled
>> with empty racks
>> to bring up the full ones
>> for the ladies upstairs.

>> All night
>> keeping it rolling
>> making it smooth
>> for the ladies
>> to make production.

>> Finally to clock out
>> as the sad whistle would blow
>> we would stumble out the gate
>> into the grey dawn.

>> Some headed for breakfast
>> and a beer
>> while always I headed home
>> for sleep
>> as quickly as possible.

>> Living at Mockingbird Court
>> where I had shared a trailer
>> with my friend Bob Whitman
>> an Army vet turned factory worker.

>> Bob worked downstairs
>> at the Autoclave
>> the machine that steamed chemicals
>> into the yarn.

>> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
>> ran the huge Dryers
>> a super hot
>> chemical steam bath area.

>> Jim married
>> my childhood friend Pamela
>> and passed away too soon
>> from a heart attack

>> I'm not sure how workers
>> down there
>> survived the heat
>> and harsh smell.

>> Actually
>> I noticed not so well
>> as years went by
>> several old friends
>> still haunt me.

>> There was a guy named Bill
>> from Chicago
>> found in the Dryer room
>> coughing up blood from TB.

>> Chip, another Autoclave man
>> was found
>> giggling in the warehouse
>> up in the bales of fiber
>> one line of meth too many.

>> Little Rosell
>> on the Reels downstairs
>> hot little femme fatale
>> who I would know better later.

>> An unteresting lady
>> in her Daisy Duke shorts
>> and "Flashdance" shirt
>> she was the supervisors' choice.

>> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
>> found in a hallway
>> died there of old age.

>> The list goes on
>> many who did not survive
>> until the shut down day
>> another poem for another day.

>> At that time of the night
>> with machines all running right
>> many of us could wander
>> have some coffee
>> and get some fresh air.

>> Bob was a good friend
>> at the job
>> quick with a joke
>> or pass his pipe for a toke.

>> Many smokers and drinkers
>> would hang out
>> on the porch
>> outside the Autoclave room.

>> When he heard
>> of my latest domestic disaster
>> Bob offered
>> to rent me a room.

>> In a rented room
>> in Bob's trailer
>> like a scene from The Odd Couple
>> without the laughs.

>> The bottom fell out
>> we didn't get along
>> outside of the job
>> so I moved out
>> to North Highland.

>> I moved in
>> next door to the Holt family
>> old school mill folk
>> in the former mill village.

>> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
>> all worked at
>> Shadowville Spinning Mill
>> like their family before them.

>> Karen worked in the supply room
>> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
>> Don covered my job
>> during the say shift.

>> For some reason
>> it was important to them
>> that they tell Mr. Newberry
>> that I was their cousin.

>> I never did figure that out
>> but it was cool with me.
>> I liked them all
>> they were down to Earth folks.

>> The day I moved in
>> I had my music playing loud
>> outside my window
>> was the river
>> and then Alabama.

>> I would never have imagined
>> how that area would look now
>> with the row of houses demolished
>> and with the Riverwalk below.

>> I was two floors up
>> but I still felt
>> like a mole
>> like a subterranean.

>> Wake up
>> it was Monday
>> I could hear Billy Teakson
>> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
>> down below.

>> Billy was an old school
>> Card and Blending room man
>> never late
>> sick or well he was on the job.

>> Slither down the stairs
>> so far so good
>> jump in and ride on
>> the the alternate universe
>> the factory.

>> He never failed
>> to have a spare Budweiser
>> and a smoke
>> for the short ride to
>> Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>> We'd get there in time
>> to stand around the parking lot
>> and catch a few words
>> with the crew.

>> Then the whistle would blow
>> and it was on your mark
>> sail through 12 hours of dream
>> in another land.

>> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
>> mill coffee
>> and then
>> in a determined stroll.

>> Up to the Bobbin Winders
>> and the upstairs Reels
>> to catch everything up quick
>> get the game going right.

>> Then down the elevator
>> to the Spinning room
>> sweat shop
>> a dozen ladies
>> smoking and yelling conversations.

>> Loud roaring
>> antique seeming machinery
>> all all points
>> no escape from
>> the chaos and thunder.

>> Get it all caught up
>> then down to the sub basement
>> to pick up the prize left for me
>> by Don
>> my first shift doppelganger.

>> Any time Don
>> skipped out early
>> and left everything
>> off the mark, it was no problem.

>> He'd leave me a joint
>> at a certain spot
>> in the sub basement.

>> The basement was
>> creepy enough
>> but the sub basement
>> seemed right out
>> of a horror movie.

>> Needless to say
>> I'd keep my head down
>> and would try to get out
>> of the sub basement quickly.

>> I had been distributing
>> my broadsheets
>> among my co-worker friends
>> news of the day
>> with a twist.

>> They were entertained
>> by my poetry
>> and comic strips
>> looking for themselves
>> in the lines on paper.

>> Pat, the personnel director
>> called me in her office
>> and put the kibosh
>> on my broadsheet.

>> My poetry and art zine
>> had violated the strict
>> "No Distribution" policy
>> that no outside reading
>> was permitted inside the mill gates.

>> Since I had not been
>> aware of this policy
>> I apologized
>> and kept the broadsides
>> outside the gates from then on.

General-Zod wrote:
> Will Dockery wrote:
>> General-Zod wrote:
>>> Will Dockery wrote:
>
>>>> Passage Through Ennui
>
>>>> 35 years ago
>>>> it was another
>>>> long bitter Summer
>>>> that dark humid July 1985.

>>>> I was working
>>>> the graveyard shift
>>>> operating one of the service elevators
>>>> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>>>> Galatea and I
>>>> had split up again
>>>> earlier in the year
>>>> after our explosive reunion
>>>> in 1983.

>>>> It ended quickly
>>>> after a huge fight
>>>> with her brother
>>>> over an old score
>>>> usually forgotten.

>>>> I won the fight
>>>> but actually lost.
>>>> Tracy gave up
>>>> and Galatea left with him.

>>>> The year
>>>> it all came apart
>>>> seemingly permanent.
>>>> Two years of good times
>>>> ended in a moonshine rage. .

>>>> All I could see was
>>>> a shut down gloom.
>>>> The only laughter I heard
>>>> was down in the break room.

>>>> The brown haze of factory air
>>>> angry faced people
>>>> and the music
>>>> of metal machines.

>>>> Working all night
>>>> sleeping all day.
>>>> Sipping coffee
>>>> to chase the road aspirins.

>>>> Sitting on the steps
>>>> over by a giant fan.
>>>> keeping up with my workers
>>>> usually five ladies
>>>> at the machines.

>>>> If one of the ladies
>>>> needed anything
>>>> they'd just look my way
>>>> and wave.

>>>> Several times a night
>>>> I'd make a buy and fly
>>>> bringing back coffee for them
>>>> on makeshift cardboard trays.

>>>> Jotting down notes
>>>> doodling narratives
>>>> creating reality
>>>> building Shadowville
>>>> from the ground up.

>>>> Riding my elevator
>>>> up and down
>>>> creating samizdat
>>>> in the smoking booth.

>>>> Down to the Reel room
>>>> my elevator filled
>>>> with empty racks
>>>> to bring up the full ones
>>>> for the ladies upstairs.

>>>> All night
>>>> keeping it rolling
>>>> making it smooth
>>>> for the ladies
>>>> to make production.

>>>> Finally to clock out
>>>> as the sad whistle would blow
>>>> we would stumble out the gate
>>>> into the grey dawn.

>>>> Some headed for breakfast
>>>> and a beer
>>>> while always I headed home
>>>> for sleep
>>>> as quickly as possible.

>>>> Living at Mockingbird Court
>>>> where I had shared a trailer
>>>> with my friend Bob Whitman
>>>> an Army vet turned factory worker.

>>>> Bob worked downstairs
>>>> at the Autoclave
>>>> the machine that steamed chemicals
>>>> into the yarn.

>>>> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
>>>> ran the huge Dryers
>>>> a super hot
>>>> chemical steam bath area.

>>>> Jim married
>>>> my childhood friend Pamela
>>>> and passed away too soon
>>>> from a heart attack

>>>> I'm not sure how workers
>>>> down there
>>>> survived the heat
>>>> and harsh smell.

>>>> Actually
>>>> I noticed not so well
>>>> as years went by
>>>> several old friends
>>>> still haunt me.

>>>> There was a guy named Bill
>>>> from Chicago
>>>> found in the Dryer room
>>>> coughing up blood from TB.

>>>> Chip, another Autoclave man
>>>> was found
>>>> giggling in the warehouse
>>>> up in the bales of fiber
>>>> one line of meth too many.

>>>> Little Rosell
>>>> on the Reels downstairs
>>>> hot little femme fatale
>>>> who I would know better later.

>>>> An unteresting lady
>>>> in her Daisy Duke shorts
>>>> and "Flashdance" shirt
>>>> she was the supervisors' choice.

>>>> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
>>>> found in a hallway
>>>> died there of old age.

>>>> The list goes on
>>>> many who did not survive
>>>> until the shut down day
>>>> another poem for another day.

>>>> At that time of the night
>>>> with machines all running right
>>>> many of us could wander
>>>> have some coffee
>>>> and get some fresh air.

>>>> Bob was a good friend
>>>> at the job
>>>> quick with a joke
>>>> or pass his pipe for a toke.

>>>> Many smokers and drinkers
>>>> would hang out
>>>> on the porch
>>>> outside the Autoclave room.

>>>> When he heard
>>>> of my latest domestic disaster
>>>> Bob offered
>>>> to rent me a room.

>>>> In a rented room
>>>> in Bob's trailer
>>>> like a scene from The Odd Couple
>>>> without the laughs.

>>>> The bottom fell out
>>>> we didn't get along
>>>> outside of the job
>>>> so I moved out
>>>> to North Highland.

>>>> I moved in
>>>> next door to the Holt family
>>>> old school mill folk
>>>> in the former mill village.

>>>> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
>>>> all worked at
>>>> Shadowville Spinning Mill
>>>> like their family before them.

>>>> Karen worked in the supply room
>>>> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
>>>> Don covered my job
>>>> during the say shift.

>>>> For some reason
>>>> it was important to them
>>>> that they tell Mr. Newberry
>>>> that I was their cousin.

>>>> I never did figure that out
>>>> but it was cool with me.
>>>> I liked them all
>>>> they were down to Earth folks.

>>>> The day I moved in
>>>> I had my music playing loud
>>>> outside my window
>>>> was the river
>>>> and then Alabama.

>>>> I would never have imagined
>>>> how that area would look now
>>>> with the row of houses demolished
>>>> and with the Riverwalk below.

>>>> I was two floors up
>>>> but I still felt
>>>> like a mole
>>>> like a subterranean.

>>>> Wake up
>>>> it was Monday
>>>> I could hear Billy Teakson
>>>> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
>>>> down below.

>>>> Billy was an old school
>>>> Card and Blending room man
>>>> never late
>>>> sick or well he was on the job.

>>>> Slither down the stairs
>>>> so far so good
>>>> jump in and ride on
>>>> the the alternate universe
>>>> the factory.

>>>> He never failed
>>>> to have a spare Budweiser
>>>> and a smoke
>>>> for the short ride to
>>>> Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>>>> We'd get there in time
>>>> to stand around the parking lot
>>>> and catch a few words
>>>> with the crew.

>>>> Then the whistle would blow
>>>> and it was on your mark
>>>> sail through 12 hours of dream
>>>> in another land.

>>>> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
>>>> mill coffee
>>>> and then
>>>> in a determined stroll.

>>>> Up to the Bobbin Winders
>>>> and the upstairs Reels
>>>> to catch everything up quick
>>>> get the game going right.