When I was 18 I liked to party a lot, which lead to drinking, which led to making up weird words. One that I still use is “durts.” It means cigarettes. My friend and I came up with it because tobacco looks kind of like dirt. I turned a bunch of people on to saying it; I don’t know if they get why we call them “durts.” They get the idea of what it means when I say, “Let’s go smoke some durts,” and they see a pack of cigarettes in my hand.

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We used this term in CT in 96'. we didn't come up with it though. it's in the urban dictionary.

"Stabbin' Cabin" needs to make a comeback-I met this piece out on old 95 at a dive bar called the Dew Drop Inn. She makin' googly eyes at me while I was shootin' pool. After a s***load of shot with her and my 3 friends Jose,Jack and Johnny,we meandered over to my stabbin' cabin parked on yonder down the road.

Otherwise known as your "Homicide Hovel?"

Well, Pete, hopefully you're 'only' talking about gang-banging this poor drunk dummy. And hopefully, she was keen on the idea, although I kinda doubt it.

Otherwise, it's what Daniels seems to think it is.

How's that beer tasting? Anything else you want to confess to, while we're at it?

Jose (Cuervo), Jack (Daniels) and Johnny (Walker). Not so much a gang-bang as a drunk-bang. Neither probably remember much of it.

Thanks, Refried. It seems an expert opinion was required. :)

I 'really' should have recognized Jose, Jack and Johnny, considering my usual Friday night threesome with Ben & Jerry. (I think it's the chick equivalent of the same thing.)

BIG apologies to Pete. You scared the crap out of me/us for a minute, there.

I am only an expert on alcohol, I honestly have no idea what goes on in a "stabbin' cabin". I mean, I imagine it involves drunken sex, but I could be wrong about that. The back seat of my 1970 GTO didn't provide for much privacy and I found out early on that booze and sex don't mix very well. It was a lot like smoking a couple of joints and trying to make any sense out of Finnegans Wake.

Maybe Finnegan is just one of those things that requires shrooms.


I never got around to reading that. I know that Joseph Campbell wrote "A Skeleton Key to Finnegan's Wake," and I always meant to make a project out of those two.

Regarding alcohol and the aforementioned "stabbin' cabin," I'm sure you've heard the old saying:

Ya can't shoot pool with a rope.

But, like plastic surgery that never goes right, it just doesn't seem to stop folks from tryin'.

Whaddya gonna do?

Finnegans Wake is like this: You wake up one morning and shower and dress and then you open your front door and enter someone's brain. You walk around in the brain saying, "What the hell?" It's difficult enough for us humans to put up with our own brains, but to enter someone else's? That's what it reminds me of, in a way. Campbell took a good, literary crack at it, but if you want a more etheral point of view, read the Tom Robbins novel Fierce Invalids Home From Hot Climates (yes, it's a reference to a poem by Rimbaud in the title, clever, eh?).

The Robbins novel is somewhat circular like Finnegans Wake, makes references to it even, and more importantly makes the reader take many leaps of Earthly faith and tackles cultural taboos. I highly recommend it.

My take on the situation was based on forensics of PP's 'lifestyle,' which includes robbing a Hardee's at knifepoint, and expression of violent intent towards women. Hence, the literal interpretation of "stabbin'."

Sure, I like maybe one Robbins novel as a lite read, but refried surely you aren't proposing he is the better writer?

Robbins isn't Joyce, no, of course not. But Joyce isn't exactly a contemporary, either. Getting through Finnegans Wake is no picnic. You pack a bunch of sack lunches and continually say, "Holy crap, this guy is a trip!" And you re-read every passage multiple times and try to figure out the narrative. It's a chore. And it's beautiful, in the way that sometimes when you wake up from a strange dream you realize that it isn't the meaning of the dream that is important, it's how you felt when you were in the dream.

Robbins is like a hay ride. You let him pull you along, and you don't dare touch the reigns, you just ride wherever he takes you. And he loved Joyce, very much, his later books show it. His method is simple: he writes one page a day. That page is edited and complete. I can't write that way. I admire it.

Well said, refried! I usually let OB in HD whisk me off to sweet sleep, but this treat will do nicely :) You know, Flaubert held to the same work ethic--one perfect page a day. I'd settle for one perfect sentence with adequate comma placement...

Daniels justified:

"My take on the situation was based on forensics of PP's 'lifestyle,' which includes robbing a Hardee's at knifepoint, and expression of violent intent towards women. Hence, the literal interpretation of "stabbin'."

...which is exactly why I did the same thing for a minute, until I realized "stabbin' cabin" sounded vaguely familiar, and Googled it. :)

I still can't believe I was too fuzzy-brained to recognize Johnny, Jose and Jack. I've met all 3 of them, it's not just Jose that's been a friend of mine. In fact, you might even say that Jack was my BEST friend for a while in high school.

Pete, shy fella that you are, why don't you take a minute out of your busy schedule to tell us about your other criminal adventures? (Assuming they've already been accounted for by the authorities, of course.)

Curious minds want to know.

Or was that Hardee's thing just a complete anomaly induced by sudden onset male PMS?

Even if it was, you could still do a bullsh*t blog and just make stuff up. I don't think you'd exactly be the first person on the Reader site writing made-up autobiography.

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