Sunday, September 20, 2009

open letter to jon rolston

Jon,
sorry I destroyed the directional switch on your '82 Kawasaki 750. You see, I went to clean the contacts, thinking that was the problem with the headlight, and I broke the thumb switch taking it apart. (I was supposed to turn the switch and then pull instead of just pry it out with a knife. Oops) Then I glued it back on with superglue...but...damn it...the switch had two tiny return springs and I had it back together once and then twice and then the third time I compressed the spring to fit the pieces all together and "boing" it got away from me and flew across the garage and into the pile of tools in the corner by the door. I swore, "fuck". but I had already lost a ball bearing that was some kind of index for the position of left or right... But the thumb switch was totally loose and so I decided after a day to hunt for the spring. I took everything out of the corner and when I thought I was getting close I leaned up close to the wall and dislodged a huge industrial sized C Clamp that was hanging from a deer horn on the wall...and the clamp dropped onto my forehead and almost knocked me unconscious. IN fact in my daze I stepped on a rake and totally snapped it up into my face like some cartoon...then I knocked over a sledgehammer. then I took a long nap on the couch while listening to light rock.
later, I still looked for the spring everywhere on the ground and on the table and even inside a plastic container of old paint thinner (because little springs usually find the worst place to land) Alas, I could not find it. So the switch is fucked. If you turn it to the left it will just stay there forever and not return to center. Likewise to the right. Things like that drive me insane. You might adjust better. I did manage to fix the right turn light. but now it will just stay on all day unless you manually return the thumb switch to center. Even then the exact center takes some practice to hit and you should probably be paying attention to the crippled pedestrians and cars around you.
Also, I do not know why the starter relay stopped working. You can ground the two contacts to get it to start but that was not my fault. I swear. IT was just a coincidence.
Now, I did eat some food that you told me specifically was forbidden. It was not out of disrespect...but I can not resist crackers and cheese.
I think the wiring has failed somewhere. I don't think it is grounding because the battery would discharge faster. I think some wire is just disconnected somewhere.

Additionally, I do not have head lice, as far as I know, so I do not think the one or two times I slept in your bed will lead to you having to hire the bug sniffing beagle again.

I also want to thank you for your advice on my writing, how it is self pitying sometimes and how I attack my father routinely and without provication or constructive point. I thought it was all in the name of entertainment but I think I was deluding myself. (Sorry Dad!)

As for my plans on studying to be a motorcycle technician and your suggestion that I would "end up like Todd Hamilton". Ah, well, fuck you, respectfully. I admire any man who can rebuild a transmission and even if I never do it I would like to have some training so I stop destroying bikes that I am trying to fix. And the fact you said this while stumbling around a San Francisco sports themed Hawaiian bar, drinking mango flavored vodka and hitting on girls who were obviously with their significant others (one whom you challenged to a fight) and one woman gave some non verbal communication that was clearly hostile...anyway, you got no room to talk about cliches. I'm enrolling in UTI motorcycle technician institute asap.
here's an article on this matter that Poll (a reader of Jon's blog) thankfully passed along...

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/24/magazine/24labor-t.html?pagewanted=1&_r=1&sq=honda%20motorcycle%20masters%20degree&st=cse&scp=2

Finally, I thank you for your hosptiatity. Sophia was perfectly justified in kicking us out the door (literally throwing your shoes at your urine soaked feet) and forcing you to sleep on the side of the road, illegally parked, snoring and cramped at the neck while I pissed on a telephone pole. Yes, she would not have kept her pride if she had allowed you to drink to the stage of blackout and still sleep in her house. Bravo. I like her even if she is too mature for you. Anyway, it was all part of the experience I signed up for when I moved into the van and surprised you at your front door. I was very happy to eat the Cliff House buffet with you and her. I like living in a van and pissing in a jug and shitting in a newspaper and then later going to a classy buffet with a harp player busting out Phantom of the Opera tunes and there is Creme Brule and prime rib and bacon and tortellini with fresh mozzerella and champagne poured by a pretty gay waiter and we all eat fresh fruit and look out the window at the freighters on the stormy ocean and you kiss Sophia and she smiles with her full lips and I wipe up the bacon grease with a croissant and wash it down with orange juice...and then I go back and sleep in my van. that's living.

So, anytime you need a place to stay, and have a physician signed note saying you are free of head lice, then come see me. We will set you up.

Thanks.

P.S. The motorcycle gloves you gave me worked perfectly for driving gloves since the van's lack of power steering normally leaves my fingers chaffed and raw. You are awesome!

Here's Jon...a man's best friend....though an Arctic Wolf's worst enemy as you can see him typying "Kill all wolves" into his iPhone.
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Man in the Van by Oggy Bleacher is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 3.0 Unported License.