July finds me underneath a 1969 van, arms covered in decades old grease fixing a
ruptured timing cover gasket that caused all the coolant to leak out. A serious
job for any mechanic since it involves removing many components. No local mechanic
can be trusted to tackle this job so I did it. The conditions under which
this repair job was complete were ridiculous. I may as well have done it in
a fucking oven or a sauna with my hands tied. It was less a repair job than an
archaeological dig to find a part that broke off a steam engine in 1880...and then
to fix that steam engine so it will run again. Insane. The one real miracle was that I was carrying the 22mm
socket I needed to take the vibration damper off the crankshaft nose.
that is a miracle because
A) this is a ford van and uses SAE sizes.
B) That socket was originally purchased to take the top caps off a 1986 Honda Motorcycle
so we could change the oil seal on the forks.
C) I had no other sizes bigger than 19mm.
but it fit perfectly and it popped off. That would have really been a pain to get that part.
I'm trying to find a rhythm to
my life again. traveling with no definite plans is a bit insane and everyone
(meaning everyone but hobos and gypsys) looks at me as a useless piece of scum.
It is difficult to maintain dignity. I can see why hobos just continue being
hobos. To re-adapt to society is too much. The monkey has been evicted from the
family and can not be allowed to poison the greater tribe. I see that. I'm no
dummy. or maybe I'm a little dumb.
anyway.
I'm in la paz, Mexico, playing solo jazz guitar at an empty restaurant and
singing cat stevens cover songs. I want to be a cat stevens tribute artist
complete with beard and no shoes and glass bead necklaces. Is there something
wrong with that? I may even get a wig.
Not everyone can be a foreign dignitary or heart surgeon. There must be a place
in this world for cat stevens tribute artists who play to empty restaurants in
obscure Mexican towns. well, now that I put it that way maybe there is no place
for such a person. But I don't want to conform. What kind of a person would I be
to conform now after I have refused to conform for so long? A quitter?
I've got to live. I've got to get in the game.
I lived in Venice Beach. Near Vernon. on Rialto Ave. vernon, I believe, is in
Dogtown, the place where you buy crack. But that is all of Los
Angeles.
