Folks, I am angry.

I'm kinda upset folks, you know Ole Tim don't like to speak bad about the gentler gender but Ihad a custome today who was a real B I double hockey sticks if you'll pardon my French. This old bird goes and tells the manager that some weird guy is looking at a couple of young girls and touching his privates. Although she used the M word. Mr. Miller asks Zach who she's talkin' bout and he says Orangeman. Orangeman is my nickname due to the fact that I'm from Syracuse, Lou gave it to me (God rest his soul) and I called him Statehouse seeing as how he was from Albany. So ole Steve Miller says "Kisper, this customer saw you touching your privates". Although he uses the M word too. Well I says look I ain't no John Sloss, I don't touch my privates 'cept so I don't hit the wall when I tinkle, and yeah in the shower when I wash them. The Episcopalian Church don't go for no touching your privates, I don't do none of that Puppetshow boy stuff tying up gals and spanking them, like that John Sloss.Tim Kisper don't do none of this malarkey and he, I mean I, sure don't touch my dang privates. He ain't havin' it and says a drunken bum like me should go and kiss his ole feet for him a hiring me in the first place and makes me apologize to the old bird. She says she ain't shopping at the Job Lot no more and I get suspended for a week. Ole Steve Miller says I owe him one for not calling the cops. I wish he would fly like an eagle right out a here. I got a good mine to go on down there tomorrow and raise me some Cain. There's a bottle o houtch out there a callin' my name, I feel like I jumped out a plane with no parachute. TIM KISPER DON'T TOUCH HIS DANG PRIVATES! THAT'S A SIN!

A sad day at the Job Lot

Howdy folks, ole Tim here. Been busy working and spending time with my sweet lady-friend. When the weather gets nicer we're gonna take a little weekend getaway. Anyhow, the Job Lot where I been working seems to be a den of kindred spirits. Most of my co-workers seem to be in my same boat, a bunch of washed up misfits and knuckleheads looking for a new lease on life. One gal, Mary's an empty nester who lost her husband and seems to struggle through her lonely days. My heart goes out to her. Then there's Lou. Lou was an old Navy man like myself and that gave us some kinship. Swappin' tales of encounters with Marines who, well, if ya ever been in the Navy you know how them Marines treat us. Well, Lou had throat cancer. Lou also didn't like going to the docs and well, just last night I found out he's no longer with us. Take care of my shipmate, Oh Lord. Lou you just try and keep on keepin' on. Boy, could I really use a drink.
Tim

Please Oh Lord, forgive your lost child.

howdy folks, Yuk, yuk I tell you I am a new man and I owe it to my sweet Vivian. Ole Tim's been a single guy his whole life, I tell ya. Sure I had girlfriends but I ain't ever shared a home with a gal. It's not like I have much of a choice these days, yuk, yuk. Being happy and in love after my absolute worst year with failed sobriety has really made me appreciate life more. I can actually be happy without the Devil's Brew. Old whiskey has cost me a lot in my almost half century here on God's green Earth. I spent 1,378 days of my life behind bars. 93 days in hospitals or rehab clinics. Lost 4 jobs including a twenty one year career with Con Edison. Done over $100,000 in property damage. Destroyed at least 6 motor vehicles. Lost my drivers license forever. Own nothing 'cept the clothes on my back. Alienated my only living relatives and Good Lord forgive me, killed two people. I don't like to talk much 'bout that last part. Sweet Jill, such a precious young Angle. I was a young lad of 16 and didn't have a care in the world. If you could smoke it, swallow it or inject it and it was bad for you, not to mention illegal, I tried it. I tried it all. But nothin' took a hold of me like my Mamas favorite, aged whiskey. If I weren't stone faced drunk I was at least buzzed all the time. Jill was a party girl, she liked to have fun and she played fast and loose if you know what I mean. She was 18 going on 19 and decided this young buck was somethin' special. I wasn't! I was a stupid drunk, know nothin' adolescent, nobody could tell me a thing. Well after ditching school one Spring afternoon we went up to Bald Eagle Rock. I had borrowed Jimmy Solucci's green Mustang and we tore up the road. We were a late 1970s Bonnie and Clyde, I tell ya. "Cept for the guns and the robbin'. So we got wasted that afternoon, smashed wiskey bottles against the rock and watched the sun go down. That's the last thing I remember. I remember Jill's freckles, her tanned skin and long auburn hair that smelled like a field of wild flowers after a Summer Rain. I remember her belly button peeking out from under her almost long enough top and the patches on her blue jeans. But I can not remember her eyes as hard as I may try. When I woke up in the hospital they told me we had come down the hill with no headlights on and hit a truck head on. I had a concussion, a broken wrist and glass in my eyes, I was blinded for a week. The cops asked me who was driving. Now the God's honest truth to this day I don't remember. It seems we were both thrown from the wreck and well, I said Jill. Two days later they told me she was dead. Massive blunt force trauma to the head. Her skull had been crushed. My sweet Teen Angle. You think ole Tim learned his lesson. Like in them little films they show you in high school. Don't drink and drive, right? No. I now had guilt and sorrow and I dealt with it Kisper style. They way Mom dealt with dad leaving her with no money and two hungry kids to feed. Old Whiskey! Alleluia and Amen! In the following year I nearly drank myself to death. Till Peggy and Ken got me in the Navy after the school felt bad for me and gave me a pity diploma. Uncle Sam's Navy saved my life but Ole Tim's future had more pitfalls in store and even though I was done with the bottle, the bottle wasn't done with me. I had a lock of Jill's hair I kept for many years. I braided it into a small loop. Kept it in my pocket where ever I went. When I felt especially bad I'd put my hand in my pocket and twist it between my fingers. One time I broke a store window and when they arrested me and confiscated my personal effects they took it and burnt it.

Springtime wildflowers softly grow...
Where is my Sweet Angle? I don't know...
I was weak when I was supposed to be strong...
A fateful ride and now you're gone...

You in Heaven, though sad and blue...
An' every day I try to go on without you...
Unfinished dreams and a young life lost...
And that Old Whiskey has such a high cost...

Oh Jill... How could I kill...
My sweet Jill?
Heavenly Father take pity on me...
And let her run wild and free...

Happy Valentimes Day

Yuk, yuk. Howdy folks, ole Tim here. Reading the comments I hope I didn't worry y'all to much. I took a bus down to Schenectady to call on an old Navy buddy and well he didn't live there no more. So I didn't have any money to go back home not that I really had a home anymore so I went to this church to pray and met these fellas who hookd me up with an outreach program and well the Goodlord smiled on me cause I met this here, pretty lady, Vivian and now I' living with her. She's 11 years my senior but that don't bother ole Tim none. Suchs, I even got me a job at the Job Lot, been sober 5 weeks. How y'all been?

Your old pal, Tim

Happy Thaksgiving, everyone

Howdy,
Yuk-yuk, ole Tim here at the rescue mission having one heck of a Thanksgiving dinner. They set up a computer and some free long distance phones for us to say hi to relatives and friends here. Well, since I didn't have no one to shout out to I thought I'd check in. Been on the street a while now, balder and grayer, lost a few teeth and worn around the edges, but ole Tim's hanging in there. I miss chatting and joking with the boys but now life's more about survival. I hope y'all are having a fine and dandy time and enjoying your warm homes, it'll be cold tonight. God bless and keep them homefires burning. I don't know the next time I'll get a chance to say hi, if not so long, you boys are princes.

Tim

The perils of group home livin'

So we was in computer class today and Helen let us look up whatever we felt like. They got filters on the computers to block out all kinds of nonsense, the u-tubes and myspaces, pornography and stuff. So I'm checking in on that John Sloss character (a rascal of the highest order, yuk-yuk) and Helen comes by and gives Ole' Tim a good holler about by-passin' the filters. I guess cuz I was once an assistant manager at Computer World she thinks I know all about this tech stuff. I try an explain that it's just my friend's page an' he is kind of a devil, but she goes yellin' that we can't use the network for that kind of stuff so now I ain't supposed to be lookin' at his webshow. Shucks, and I was just being neiborly. So how y'all doin' ?

Tim

"Oh my God please see ft in Your Divine nature to remove all my defects of character and keep my feet firmly on the road of sobriety and not to be misled into the eternal damnation of my personal demon, alcohol. Amen."

The Life & Times Of Timothy Allan Kisper

Howdy all out there in Internetland, Yuk yuk, yes Ole Tim is back. Time has not been good to me and honestly I though my musings would never again grace these electronic pages but a nice lady helped me find my way back. She's my recreation therapist, Helen, and her hair smells wonderful like honeysuckle. My new home is a group home where I'm in an alcohol recovery program. One day I may go into how I got here, but Helen cautions against it right now. One of our projects was to right a blog and I told Helen I already had one so she helped me track it down (extra credit- yuk, yuk). I'll talk more later,
Your pal, Timmy