dirty andy
Well-known member
Life is a trip.
I was born in Syracuse New York but both sides of my family have lived in Pennsylvania for a long long time. Where I'm from its cow town all day, cattle and corn outnumber the people hardcore. My father has been railroad since he was twenty, welding box cars in renovo pa before working on grind trains on conrail, speno, some shit up in Canada and etc. when I was 12 he quit, and tried doing factory work, construction and etc but when I turned sixteen he couldn't handle that type of work anymore and got in as a signalman on Norfolk southern, which is where he works today. He quickly instilled in me a love for the trains and the outdoors at a young age. He's the oldest guy on his signal crew by 20 years but still the first one in the ditch with a shovel, truly hardcore.
Punk rock and radical politics hit me like an uppercut in high school, more so after I got locked up for a fight with a senior in tenth grade. Spent two months at CCYC for terroristic threats and simple assault in centre county and was not allowed to return to my shitty high school that whole year. When I got out, I remained on house arrest until my sophomore year ended. I had nothing to do but read read read and play all day on the computer. The resentment I had for being ripped out of my home for defending myself for once in my cowardly life is still there. I had never been in a situation like that until then~ask the staff if you can tie your shoes, tell the staff when you come within six feet of them or behind them, do what we say or you get slammed, thrown in your concrete box and click go the lights.
When I got out and was on house arrest for five months all I did was read about another way. Rocker, graeber, stirner, proudhon, bakunin and even uncle karl. It all seemed closer to the truth than anything I got taught in school, and I was pissed about a lotta shit. And then came the punk rock, in a tsunami. Loved it all, wanted to see it, be around it and listen to it all, all of it. Probably the depression coupled with my rebellious hormones and acne but it all made sense and I loved it and still do.
But after the politics and punk rock gave me a little meaning I encountered my biggest pit fall. The drugs. Man did I love small town drugs. There was nothing to do and few friends so we did anything and everything we could find. My mom was a drug and alcohol counselor at pen state so it was another way for me to secede from anything my parents wanted me to do, and man did I do it. I ke
I was born in Syracuse New York but both sides of my family have lived in Pennsylvania for a long long time. Where I'm from its cow town all day, cattle and corn outnumber the people hardcore. My father has been railroad since he was twenty, welding box cars in renovo pa before working on grind trains on conrail, speno, some shit up in Canada and etc. when I was 12 he quit, and tried doing factory work, construction and etc but when I turned sixteen he couldn't handle that type of work anymore and got in as a signalman on Norfolk southern, which is where he works today. He quickly instilled in me a love for the trains and the outdoors at a young age. He's the oldest guy on his signal crew by 20 years but still the first one in the ditch with a shovel, truly hardcore.
Punk rock and radical politics hit me like an uppercut in high school, more so after I got locked up for a fight with a senior in tenth grade. Spent two months at CCYC for terroristic threats and simple assault in centre county and was not allowed to return to my shitty high school that whole year. When I got out, I remained on house arrest until my sophomore year ended. I had nothing to do but read read read and play all day on the computer. The resentment I had for being ripped out of my home for defending myself for once in my cowardly life is still there. I had never been in a situation like that until then~ask the staff if you can tie your shoes, tell the staff when you come within six feet of them or behind them, do what we say or you get slammed, thrown in your concrete box and click go the lights.
When I got out and was on house arrest for five months all I did was read about another way. Rocker, graeber, stirner, proudhon, bakunin and even uncle karl. It all seemed closer to the truth than anything I got taught in school, and I was pissed about a lotta shit. And then came the punk rock, in a tsunami. Loved it all, wanted to see it, be around it and listen to it all, all of it. Probably the depression coupled with my rebellious hormones and acne but it all made sense and I loved it and still do.
But after the politics and punk rock gave me a little meaning I encountered my biggest pit fall. The drugs. Man did I love small town drugs. There was nothing to do and few friends so we did anything and everything we could find. My mom was a drug and alcohol counselor at pen state so it was another way for me to secede from anything my parents wanted me to do, and man did I do it. I ke
