RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Sunday, July 8

PP: Part Eleven

I briefly dabbled with moving pictures from the window of my truck. They all look really blurry and stupid like this. I like this one though because it’s a pulpwood truck, and where I grew up in Farmville, Virginia, a great insult was to call someone else’s father a pulpwood cutter. This would always lead to hurt feelings and fisticuffs. In my adulthood, I have discovered this insult was only known in my home area and everybody else has no idea what it even means, and those who have only a half-understanding will go, “You mean, like a logger?”

Rusty old car from automobile’s bygone era from company I don’t think even makes even vacuums anymore. Also, it looks like it wants to eat me. I learned that from ‘80s horror movies.

This is DJ Rah-bee’s spare parts car for his functioning Tercel. It is sort of settled down like that because he got it because the original owner pissed off a bunch of fratboys or wrestlers or some shit at a bar, so they flipped his car over while he was still inside, only for him to come out two hours later and find it like that. So Rah-bee bought it. He additionally crushed it because he had to take the exhaust pipe off to put on another vehicle this weekend, and to make it easier to get to, attached it to a 4-wheel drive with a logging chain and jerked it upside down again. Then he sorta smashed it into place back behind his house like this, with the only real damage being we had to pound his passenger side fender back out on the 4-wheel drive with a sledgehammer.

An Impala with low profile tires and wire rims in front of a dilapidated building is always an awesome visual in my world. I wish there was shit like this everywhere.

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