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JC here, hidden in a valley somwhere in Montucky. Nearing my 30's with a penchant for all things stimulating. Here you will find a smorgasbord of men, thespians, celluloid, aural bliss, and all things art. I do not claim ownership of any image I post unless tagged with my initials jct.
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Brass Knuckles
In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day - sometimes a week, if they were lucky. They’d pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother. They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove a thousand miles for an Ozzy show. Two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they’d park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars… for hours… without saying a word. It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls but they were never, in fact, homeless.

In between jobs, Sam and Dean would sometimes get a day - sometimes a week, if they were lucky. They’d pass the time lining their pockets. Sam used to insist on honest work, but now he hustles pool, like his brother. They could go anywhere and do anything. They drove a thousand miles for an Ozzy show. Two days for a Jayhawks game. And when it was clear, they’d park her in the middle of nowhere, sit on the hood, and watch the stars… for hours… without saying a word. It never occurred to them that, sure, maybe they never really had a roof and four walls but they were never, in fact, homeless.