Fear and Loathing in Louisville, Kentucky

By

Jason Giecek

 

I am in the land of Ali, the birth place of Hunter S. Thompson.

I am Dr. Me to Mr. Me to my lover’s preciousness.

She hates me during those phases, here I sit in evil phase, writing about the love of spring in the summer time.

I laugh at that sentence, almost comical, making me want to carve it into my chest.

I stand in fire waiting for life, to die, to dance in star light.

She cringes from human touch, she can’t remember a time that love was real, not a barren place, didn’t have to place her hope onto the back of her baby, life was reality, not just a dream,

A hopeless nightmare….

 

 

 

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Butte – A grand city of bars and prostitutes, according to a random tourist at the Safeway store.

Well okay she didn’t say grand.

I can’t say what she called Butte.

We were someplace around “The Pit” when the drugs began to take hold.

I kid.

There were no drugs, not even a we, except for my imaginary friends.

I was drinking whiskey and cokes in a room at the Motel 6 in Uptown Butte.

In a few days, I’ll be leaving Butte for the 2nd greatest city in my life, Louisville, Kentucky.

Butte is the city that made me who I am today.

A drunken writer.

I’ll miss this town.

She isn’t for everybody.

But maybe that’s what makes her so great.

She isn’t a typical tourist trap.

She ain’t no beauty but she has a huge heart and a brilliant beautiful soul.

She is pock marked hard with a long mining history.

But without Butte, a lot of “better” cities in Montana and even the USA wouldn’t even exist.

Many family fortunes would not have been gained off the backs of the Butte miners.

My grandfather being one of them miners.

He raised a family here.

His son, my dad, Rudy Giecek, saved part of Butte’s “wanted to forget” piece of history, The Dumas Brothel which he bought from the last madam, Ruby Garrett back in 1990.

He kept trying to save it till 2012 when his health finally wouldn’t let him.

Me?

I just write about her.

A lady, a tourist, came through another checker’s line at my store.

She was pissed.

“There’s nothing but bars and prostitutes in this town!!”

She had read on some website that Butte was a great town to bring kids.

She stormed out of the store yelling about giving Butte a negative review on Yelp.

I think Butte should market her bars and prostitutes.

And our casinos.

We have the best casinos.

No, I don’t know which bars have the best prostitutes.

I was once hit on at a bar by a mother of the bride to be.

We were both pretty drunk.

I almost went with her on a bar cruise but instead I stumbled off my bar stool and wandered off.

I fell into the Blacktail Creek instead.

My fiancee laughed at that story.

Butte should be marketed as a writer and artist colony.

Wander the streets and the alleys and discover the real Butte.

Its heart and soul.

Butte is a historic town.

And yes she is still rough from her years of mining.

But she will always be my city, my hometown.

I love her bars and prostitutes.

And okay, she has some pretty good people in general.

Remember to “Tap ‘er light” and see ya later Butte, I’ll be back!

I’ve always been horrible at goodbyes.

Mr. O’Mallery goes to the bar.

It has been a hard week of womanizing, drinking,fighting and some work down in the mine.

He orders a bottle of whiskey.

Irish of course.

“Mr. O’Mallery are you be drinking when your wife is at home nursing seven sick children? Ye should be ashamed!” Mrs. O’Mallery said angerily from the bar’s swinging doors, her eyes missiles.

He smiled, quickly, like a fairy tricking a saint.

“I’m just finding my spirit, love…” he said, drinking his drink.

“Ye better find your spirit quickly or ye be losing it soonly!” She growled revealing a hard round baseball bat from the pleats of her skirt.

He finished his drink quickly and left.

Mr. O’Mallery found his spirit very soon.

He was soon seen nursing seven sick children back to health.

I am a homeless bum

Posted: July 16, 2017 in Uncategorized

I have officially been without a roof for a week.

I work, I bust my butt for $8.80 an hour, a union job.

They take out $84 a month in dues.

Figure it out.

I love my town but I’m shivering.

You have probably come through my line.

I was happy.

By the way, I was faking.

Maybe in a week, I’ll,have a house, a bed, a pillow even.

Last night I had enough for a hotel room, a shower,it made enough to make me feel like a human.

Tonight, I sleep outside, a bum, but you’ll come through my line!

You’ll think I make a million how I make you feel.

I wear a mask, I do it well.

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I am just a common man, working a common job, almost enough to afford a common pad!

I wouldn’t ever run for a political office as I can’t smile that fake nor are my teeth that white.

I do know there is a homeless situation here in the fine city of Butte, Montana, my home town.

There has been for a while.

With or without a shelter, people, mostly good people, families even, down on their luck, are out there, living on the street.

You just have to wander Uptown Butte any time of the day, and look, really look, and you will see the issue before your eyes.

Even ride the bus, as a commoner, and see the issue.

Do I have the answer or the solution to this problem?

No, I do not.

With or without a homeless shelter, the problem still exists as we close our eyes to the main problem.

“Not in my neighborhood!” I’ve had lots of people say to me.

The problem is, they are already there.

I am one!

Good people, people who work, but who don’t make enough to afford housing,

They smile as they bag your groceries.

They laugh as they give your hamburgers.

They nod as you state your views about how “These bums should get a job!” or stop living off the systems.

A lot of them can’t live off the system, they are making too much at $8.80 an hour.

The waiting list is too long!

They smile but deep down, they are crying.

Yes, the system is broken.

Yes, there are the bums.

The drifters.

The fakes, the men and women who panhandle aggressively, who put their 50 bucks an hour through Coinstar, but honestly that is a very small percentage of the masses out there, living on the streets.

We must all remember we are only one step away from being one of the homeless masses.

One of the bums, who gets hot coffee thrown in his face.

Yes, it happens, I’ve seen it.

I know, I am on of the homeless masses, the dirty ones.

I am lucky.

I have friends who are there, who give me a bed.

And a shower, a place to shave, so I don’t look like one of the homeless.

I do know there are good people out there, providing meals on a limited budget.

I have helped them, shh, don’t tell my manager, I gave them ten cents off some rotten peaches!

We must remember what would Jesus do!

I am not a religious man but I have giving my last dime to a desperate man with three children, to buy milk.

I will be leaving my hometown of Butte, the place I call home, with tears in my eyes, as a proud man.

I love you Butte but…..

 

Heaven be her name – The Story of Destiny

I keep thinking I’m making headway in this thing called life but then the waves come crashing down.

I come up for a breath, feeling the blessed air coming into my lungs, but there, again, the monster waves hit me, hard, pushing me to the bottom, scraping my body against the coral reef, where am I?

Nowhere, going fast, up one minute, kick to the face, down, counting, 1, 2, 3, do I wanna get up again or stay down for the count?

The bets are coming in, I’m staying down, but nope, my dumb ass gets back up.

Why?

I’m a winner!

I laugh at that, my inner demon does, I’m no winner, I’m a big fat loser!

I’m trying to stay alive, well enough, I think, until I look in the mirror, standing there, bloody, broken, ready to give in.

“I love you!” she, the one in my corner, even though I’m insane.

I keep going because and for her.

“What’s her name?”

Destiny.

Heaven be her name….

How I love thee, in a previous life even,
I whisper thy name during those times,
I think I can not go on,
There you are,
A shimmering light against the encroaching darkness…

The dragons invade my sleep, the crazy, hello insanity, you try to keep me sane, I am slipping into madness…..hello dear friend, how are you this fine and wonderful evening?

I am dead inside.

Opening old and new wounds!

What is reality?

A dream placed into real life?

Is that the definition?

Dear one, I shall keep walking till the end, tomorrow shall never come!

Cheap beer and steel guitars,
Whiskey and lonely hearts,
Broke down in San Antonio,
Drinking time in old down towns,
Looking for a good time,
Finding nothing but a broken heart,
Cheap perfume
And lonely eyes,
Living the honky time life,
Bar flies and worn out trucks,
Drinking time,
Anytime,
Pull up a stool and shoot the breeze,
Closing time is far away,
Don’t mind ole Montana,
He down on his luck,
Found a woman,
She did a buck,
Run away with a rodeo clown,
Broke his heart,
And now he sits at the bar,
Trying to find a replacement heart,
Drinks his lonely heart beer run,
Texas born,
Down on his luck,
He hears the jukebox play,
Ole Same is on his way,
Lonely hearts
And cheap motels,
Only wine can heal it fine,

Beer makes it televised!!