Dear Mole: Trailer Trash

Dear Mole,

Where were we again? Oh, right — I sold my car, they raised my rent, ain’t got no job, oh woe is Mudge!

Hey, if you’re going to publicize your troubles online like you’re writing a bad country and western song, you gotta own it, right?

Speaking of country and western songs, I must once again paraphrase the late Jean-Baptiste Alphonse Karr (who, in turn, was famously paraphrased by the late Neil Peart): plus ça change plus c’est la même chose.

That single-wide trailer up there is my new home. Jesse’s, too. My dad bought it for me and it’s situated in the mountains about 10 miles outside of Albuquerque. That white shit on the ground is snow because Cedar Crest, NM is 6,500 feet above sea level. The trailer park looks like a campground and my place is all the way at the end with a rock wall encircling the back yard that overlooks the Sandia and Manzano Mountains.

And I’ve just enough to spare to buy myself a shitty used car so’s I can journey into Albuquerque when I need to forage for groceries and, um…*cough*…supplies.

For the time being, I won’t be inviting Bubbles to move into a shed in the yard with his cats nor will I let Ricky sleep in his car in the driveway. Leahy and Randy are watching.

So I’ve nearly achieved my dream of becoming a mountain hermit. And this is but a scant mile away from my new mountain hermitage:

Fucking Burger Boy.

Entropy, Cohesion, Repeat ad infinitum,


26 thoughts on “Dear Mole: Trailer Trash

  1. At least you aren’t going the internet depression route which is most admirable. I always wondered what happened to people who quit and DON”T have legacy $ or living parents to foot their children’s retirement. Probably never heard because they’re homeless. Or dead. I’m counting on the lottery… I play at the gas station where I’ll work until I die. So, who’s paying for your “supplies” ’cause Lord knows that stuff ain’t cheap. Dad? Obiden? Just curious. I could use a cushy gig that didn’t involve being a politician or a burden to my (deceased} parents. I do have some rich friends, but none of them have volunteered to be my retirement plan. I spent a year one week in a single wide in the woods outside Arkadelphia, Arkansas. Kinda like an aluminum foil tent.

    Liked by 3 people

      1. I understand. Fortunately I have some synth and peripherals to sell. World’s oldest live chill meister dreams dashed. I have an Okie friend who was good for freebie supplies until his girlfriend quit her job at the pharmacy. You know the perk was take some home, write a review? Hell yeah. Who quits that job?

        Liked by 2 people

    1. Oh, I forgot to brag that I had a genuine Bob Odenkirk (that’s Saul as in Better Call Saul) encounter last night. They’re filming the last season and the production’s home base is set up in a vacant lot right next to my apartment complex. A neighbor and I were sitting on my front stoop when Mr. Odenkirk made his way from a car to a trailer and we shouted and waved prompting him to stop, wave back and laugh. So I didn’t exactly meet him, but it was pretty cool just the same. That’s a perk of living in Albuquerque.

      Liked by 1 person

        1. Yeah, it’s a valley between mountains on the east side and mesas on the west. I’m up and within those mountains to the east. I’m not sure about over the rim since I’m only going to be about 10.5 miles outside of the city limits.

          Liked by 1 person

  2. One of the happiest, most profound friends I’ve ever had lived in a single wide. Sure, he was an alcoholic, but the mofo was funnier than George Carlin and when we got together in his single wide, it might as well have been the Westside Theatre. He was divorced, of course, while I am married…and I use to celebrate his freedom with phrases like: “Shit, you can go anywhere you want to…you can fck anyone you want to…” And his zen like response would be… “Sure, but I don’t want to go anywhere…and I don’t want to fck anyone…” To which I replied…”Now, that lack of desire is the ultimate in true freedom.”
    I hope you start writing again…for my pleasure only…and be grateful you have a Dad that could pay for this living space…you are now free and unencumbered.

    Liked by 4 people

    1. While it’s true that a lack of desires may represent the pinnacle of freedom, as someone with years of experience in desireless-ness, it’s a really fucking uninspiring mindset. Most will never admit this, but it is always informed by fear of other people — something that has been steadily growing in me like a Samoan with an overactive pituitary gland. Dad is the best. He is also the reason why it isn’t an oxymoron for me to say that I am simultaneously poverty stricken AND spoiled rotten.

      Liked by 2 people

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