"I go forth to make new demands on life. I wish to begin this summer well; to do something in it worthy of it and me; to transcend my daily routine and that of my townsmen...I pray that the life of this summer may ever lie fair in my memory. May I dance as I have never done! May I persevere as I have never persevered!"
it sounds like Thoreau. maybe Emerson or Whitman. I don't know but I know you need some inspiration. and words usually don't work. Actions are the only currency. I swear to god this is true. words are just bullshit and it is easy to substitute words for action. rock on.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
news from the grease monkey
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.
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