My old friend, BMac, stopped by for a few days on his way to New Orleans. He brought beer, steak and news of the outside world. Sitting around the bonfire with an Alaskan was the recharge I sorely needed.
On a trip south to Chambers County for more beer, we took a side-trip through Roanoke, Randolph County's largest town. BMac wanted to see the deserted and dilapidated buildings that litter the old downtown.
Downtown Roanoke has lots of cool old brick buildings. Sadly, many are not only uninhabited, they are in varying degrees of decay. The place definitely has a ghost town feel.
We peered through storefront windows, ooohing and aahhing over all the great things these buildings could be turned into or the lost opportunities of buildings so far gone they could only be gutted. Of course, most of our ideas had to do with bars, pubs and cute little sidewalk bistros with nice wine lists.
There was a Saturday Night Live sketch with a guy that looked at any kind of container and said "You put your weed in there!" That was Brian and I looking at old buildings: "You put a bar in there!" Since Randolph County inexplicably still clings to its economically crushing status as a Bible-thumping backwater that bans the sale of demon booze (plus me and BMac's lack of necessary capital), they were just silly daydreams.
You could totally put a bar in here.
This place didn't even have glass on the storefront windows anymore.
Notice the light streaming out the doors from the inside? That's because the entire roof has collapsed. If you were to buy this property, you'd essentially be getting just the facade - if that. (As always, you can click on the pictures for a larger version.)
I've been told downtown's decay started when the bypass was built. Not sure when that was - maybe the 70s? 80s? Soon after, ugly boxy stores popped up like zits along the bypass and a lot of downtown died. Now everybody shops at Mall-Wart and eats at McDonalds. Same story as a lot of other towns across the country.
My favorite falling-down Roanoke building is the old Martin Theatre.
Note how you can see blue sky through the windows. That means no roof. If you look closely at the top right of the building, you can see what appear to be bare tree tops.
The mural has to be post 9-11. The fireman is the obvious clue. I'm guessing that flag is supposed to be Afghanistan's. The colors are right anyway - for the Afghanistan of 1992-1996, before the Taliban took over. After we invaded Afghanistan, the pre-Taliban flag was used again for another year before a new flag was introduced. (Afghanistan holds the record for nation going through the most flag design changes.) But Afghanistan's flag didn't have a big bird on it. And I have no idea why the bald eagle is wearing a big gold necklace.
Last but not least, another favorite abandoned building of mine: I'm guessing the cave motif is from the 50s or 60s. Somewhere along the line, somebody said "Paint an eye on it and it'll look like an elephant!" I'd much rather buy gas at a cave/elephant than at Mall-Wart. People need more whimsy in their day-to-day routines.
Randolph County is poorer for letting such cool architecture crumble to dust.
All you chicken-killin' critters better listen up: There may not be a new sheriff in town but the sheriff sure as hell has a new deputy.
It was a gift from David. He was appalled to read that I went out in the woods looking for cougar but armed for rabbit. I won't be getting rid of the .22 or anything. It still has its place in Spenardo del Sur's armory: 2nd place, just ahead of my knife and a wooden club with nails sticking out of it.
My nipples get hard just looking at this gun. I think I now have an inkling of what it feels like to have a penis.
Target practice starts this weekend with the arrival of BMac. Gotta learn how to use this thing without spraining my wrist or knocking myself unconscious.
Recently whacked two of the excess roosters. One of the cats, Fetish, stole a head off the chopping block while my back was turned. Aside from a few feathers, she ate the whole thing. Om nom nom nom. That's one skull that Angela won't be getting.
Go ahead, make a pussy/cock joke. I know you want to.
I was talking with one of the locals about the upcoming election for sheriff. The current sheriff is retiring and at least four people are running for his job.
One is "Johnny Law" - mentioned in an earlier post, Spenardo & Chickenfight Girl get Strip Searched Part Two (yeah, I know, I still owe you parts three and four). The local and I both agreed that Johnny Law is a prick and we'd never vote for him in a million years.
Another guy seems to be running on a "throw more druggies in jail" platform. The moldy old jail is already overcrowded and throwing more potheads in there ain't gonna do anything but funnel more funds into the courthouse coffers (and that worthless re-education camp they call the Alabama Court Referral Program).
I didn't know anything about the third guy but the local assured me he was a prick too.
That left one guy. I'd already decided that he was who I was voting for. I'd dealt with him a number of times during my community service and he seemed like a decent person - one of the very few I met during that experience that seemed capable of treating people fairly. I told the local that my mind was made up - I was voting for that guy.
The local replied "That's who I'm voting for too. Even if he is a nigger."
Actually, I won't be cooking with gas until tomorrow. That's when I'm having 100 gallons of propane delivered. It's been three long weeks of cooking with a toaster oven, taking whore's baths in the sink and having the fireplace as my sole source of heat. I'm looking forward to a long hot shower, a slow-cooked pot of chicken soup and cranking the thermostat back up to 60 degrees (okay, maybe 55).
Had to officially shut down the east wing of Frankencoop last weekend. It's the room that used to be my grandmother's kitchen. The eastern exterior wall is crumbling fast. The sturdiest part of it has to be the door I boarded up three years ago. See the white area above the door? That's drywall. You know it's bad when the drywall has become a structural element of the building. You can also see where one of the panes of glass fell out of the window. Boarding up the window isn't an option since the surrounding wood is so rotten it probably wouldn't hold a nail. The ceiling leaks really bad in that room too. It was just too nerve-wracking to go in there everyday to collect eggs.
The west wing is still open for business though. All the chickens were already sleeping in that room anyway so the change didn't cause too much of a ruckus. But I will miss the sight of hens laying eggs in grandma's old oven.
As I've mentioned before, Spenardo del Sur lies directly in the flight path of Navy jets on their way from North Carolina to the Naval Air Station in Pensacola. In the three years I've been here, I've seen them pass by hundreds of times. Sometimes they fly a little to the east or west of my property but they often fly directly over my place. Sometimes they fly low enough to see me and will tip their wings to me.
I always love it when they appear. It turns me into a little kid for a few seconds. When I hear the approaching roar, I drop what I'm doing and scan the skies for the plane. Today was no different.
Oh wait, yes it was!
I was locking up Frankencoop for the day when I heard the unmistakable sound of a jet. I could tell it was going to be to the west of me. I turned to look and saw it just on the other side of my house. Then something amazing happened.
The plane banked extremely hard to the left. It had abruptly changed course and was coming right at me! The jet rotated 90-degrees so that its wings were perpendicular to the ground. For a fraction of a second I wondered if it was going to crash into my chicken coop.
The wings were brought level right as the jet screamed directly over my head, perhaps a mere 200 feet off the ground. I felt like I could've reached out and stroked the belly of the plane.
I raced to the other side of Frankencoop to watch as the jet's wings rotated 90-degrees in the other direction. It was only a couple hundred yards past me when it banked hard to the right and continued it's southerly route to Florida.
In the space of about 2000 feet, the pilot made two 90-degree turns as well as rotating the plane 90-degrees then 180-degrees in what I can only assume was a private airshow just for me.
Thank you, whoever you are. That was fucking awesome!
You could totally put a bar in here.
This place didn't even have glass on the storefront windows anymore.
Note how you can see blue sky through the windows. That means no roof. If you look closely at the top right of the building, you can see what appear to be bare tree tops. 
