Emotions for Sale

tommyrawblog@gmail.com

Sometimes things just work out!

This is how I got by
during my navy boot camp daze.


It's always good to be an enterprising fool lemme tell ya. Sometimes it actually works out for you. And well... this was one of those
times when it worked.

And may I add... one of the few, one of the very few times that it worked out... LoL

Emotions for Sale

When you have a lot of time on your hands your brain just begins thinking about anything, and everything. I mean fuckin' everything!

Even when you don’t want it to!


Does that happen with you guys at all??

It’s really hard to just clear your mind, and think of absolutely nothing isn’t it? Go ahead and try it. It’s harder than you think man.

I can hardly do it now, even with years of practice! So you just know that back then in 1981 my mind was a cluttered gathering of mayhem.

I found myself feeling very emotional at times. It was so fucking crazy. But why?? I mean I was gone for only a couple days, and here I was missing all of the very same crap that I couldn’t wait to get the hell away from.

I guess that’s one of those human nature things or something right??


I was having all sorts of thoughts racing around this head of mine. Good, bad, happy, and sad! I was on a fucking emotional roller coaster
for goodness sake.

I found myself writing some of this stuff down, and before long, the words began transforming into poetry. Well, at least "I" thought
it was poetry... LoL


I used to also do a lot of writing and thinking before I went into the navy. But now, for some reason it began to possess more importance to me. An actual long term position within my day to day life. And it's been this way ever since!

The first batch that were hatched while in boot camp were mostly lovey-dovey type ramblings. Just about all of them revolved around a girl I mistakenly began to date right before I left.

I really hadn't had many girlfriends in my life up to that point, and well, it hit me hard those first couple days away as I was missing her.
Even though I was a complete
and utter douche bag dickwad
towards her on my last few days at home.

Sorry "Margret".

From the bottom of my
childish and insensitive heart!!

Even after all these years...
I could never say I'm sorry, enough!

Well eventually, my mind and thoughts began to expand into other feelings and emotions. I’m tellin’ you guys, that when you’re away from all you know, your mind just explodes with emotion. It’s fuckin’ crazy! Wonderful actually!

It thinks of things that you would never have thought of, when you were still hangin’ out in your everyday stomping grounds.
It was so weird.

I didn’t know where the hell all of these feelings were coming from. One minute, I was playin’ the tough, don’t fuck with me guy from New York. And the next minute, I was writing about freedom, love, and the sun up above.

I was fucking Sybil for goodness sake!

That's some of the guys in my squad.
I would have been more towards the left side of the photo.
We weren't allowed to use the chairs, benches or tables
until we earned that privilege!
Can you believe those assholes?!
So as you can imagine, we did a lot of sitting on the floor... LoL

Well, not long into my writings, I began to notice that the guys around me were lookin’ over my shoulder, to get a peek at what it was that I was writing. I get very animated and contorted when I get into that emotional spewing zone.


I'm the fuckin' Joe Cocker of emotional spewage!

I usually let them read through whatever I had. And most of them were actually impressed
in one way or another.

The very first poems were really very simple word management. A rhyme was waiting for you around every corner.

And there it is...
the very first lovesick emotional dribble to drip outta
my head onto a piece of paper in boot camp.
So fuckin' bad isn't it... but I love it to death!!

Anyway, they enjoyed what they were reading.

Then, a strange thing began to occur. These numb nuts began asking me if they could possibly make a copy of a particular poem, to send back home to their girlfriend, or wife.

I didn’t even give it a second thought.


“Sure, go ahead. Take anyone ya want. But, isn’t your girlfriend/wife gonna know
that you didn’t write it?” 

They always gave the same answer...


“A duhh, I fuckin’ hope not!”

LoLoLoLoL...
Guys are such scumbags aren’t they?!
Oh I mean... aren't we... LoL

You girls out there who have ever received a nice poem or cute saying from your guy back in late 1981 better make sure that it was him that wrote it. Because I know of at least 89 women out there who have been bamboozled by the lowest common denominator in life, a guy.
Thank you!

After the first couple guys had gotten back great responses from home, the word spread throughout the barracks that Ozzy was the wordman... (remember how I got that stupid nickname right?)... and could hook them up with some meaningful words of wisdom.

And before long the floodgates had opened.

But then, after about the fifth or sixth person asked me for a poem, the Honeymooners gene within my brain kicked in,
and came up with a grand plan.

(( These fuckin’ plan/schemes are gonna kill me dude. One day... dead in my tracks... LoL ))

It was as though a little miniature Ralph Kramden appeared on my right shoulder, and on my left was a little Ed Norton.

First, Ralph whispered into my ear...


“Why don’t you sell the poems to those knuckleheads, instead of just giving them away!”

Then Norton chimed in...


“Hey Tommy boy, better listen to Ralphie here, ‘cause he’s never wrong 'bout dees dings!”

I had a fucking mini-drama happening in my head. And muthafuck, just my luck, it was with Ralph Kramden and Ed fuckin' Norton! WTF!

Well, the bottom line was that, I did listen! I decided to put the poems up for sale instead of just giving them away.

But what should I ask for as payment?

I knew these guys didn’t have any money. So, I thought to myself, just what the hell could I use that these guys had?


Ah ha! Stamps!

I used a ton of stamps every week. I also used a lot of envelopes, paper, and all sorts
of stationery type items.

So on top of each poem I would write in the price of 2 stamps, 3 stamps, or whatever. I was pumping out poems like a machine.

I was the Danielle Steel of company 42.

Here's one of the poems with the price tag of "2 stamps" at the top.
A very reasonable price dont'cha think... LoL
And yes... still lovesick!
I was such a loser in the women department... : )

These guys were eating up everything I was writing. I had poems with girl’s names in it, and the guys would just replace that name with their girlfriend or wife’s name.

I felt bad for about a second.
But hey dude, a sale is a sale... right?!

Sometimes they wouldn’t see anything they liked, so I would write one specifically for them.

I just asked for some general information about their wife or girlfriend, usually their likes and dislikes. Basic facts that would help me understand her a little.

Those custom jobs usually cost a little more than the off-the-shelf ones, but they always
got a great response.

I had one birthday poem that was a big seller. 

In fact I wrote it for the big sister of a great friend of mine. I loved both of these girls.
Even though big sis
wanted nothing to do with me... LoL

And my friend, she just happened to be the cousin of "Margret"... the girl I was with right before boot camp. And yes...
the girl I was an asshole too! :(

How could something that happened 10 fuckin' lifetimes ago still resonate so strongly with me?? Weird right??

Crazy how something SO fucking simple as attraction, emotion and love can become SO fucking fucked up and complicated right?!

What a mess I was... LoLoLoL

But I digress...

Here's the birthday poem to my friend's big sis... Susan.
It's so horrible... but back then...
it seemed like a true treasure trove of emotional release.
Well at least it did for the guys who bought it!!
Well okay... it did for me too... LoL

The guys just plugged in a different name, and viola! A thoughtful husband reassuring his spouse that love is still alive!

I was the boot camp cupid!

Oh, but listen to this one, it’s pretty funny.

It happened well after my naval career, but it involves the birthday poem.

Eventually I made it through boot camp, and moved onto electronics school in Tennessee. It was there that I met Billy.
Who was also from Staten Island.

We became friends, and would soon be stationed on the same ship (USS Nimitz) for two years after school. (More Billy and Nimitz stuff
coming up real soon)

Then, one day after both Billy and myself were out of the Navy, he introduced me to his cousin, who I eventually married.

Well, somewhere along the way during our Navy days together, and before I ever met her, Billy took a copy of the birthday poem.

He then plugged in her name,
and sent it off to her.


Now, one day post Navy, and after I was married to her, she was lookin’ through my poems. And what one do you think
she happened to recognize?

That’s right my friends, the birthday poem!

The very same one that Billy had sent to her. Only it wasn’t her name on the original version.

Man, it was so funny. Billy got busted big time. You see, us guys just can’t get away
with anything!

Anyway, these poems were really a windfall for me. I had an influx of stamps, stationery, and tons of other assorted odds and ends throughout my boot camp stay. I never went
without for my entire stay.

This was one of my wacky schemes that actually panned out for me. Most of them usually just blew up in my silly face!

So, it turned out that Ralph Kramden was finally right about something!

And, it didn’t cost me any pushups either.

But they, were waiting for me, right around the next corner during my boot camp stay!