Sunday, May 1, 2011

stolen quotes


It liberates the vandal to travel--you never saw a bigoted, opinionated, stubborn, narrow-minded, self-conceited, almighty mean man in your life but he had stuck in one place since he was born and thought God made the world and dyspepsia and bile for his especial comfort and satisfaction.
- Mark Twain- The American Abroad speech, 1868

Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.
- Mark Twain-Innocents Abroad

Friday, April 29, 2011

Media res




This is me

Marking time.

Here we begin "in media res" (if you don't know what that means... then you didn't listen in your World Lit class)

I am sitting at a computer at 0455 in the morning...

...waiting...

Waiting for the next shift to get here. Waiting for sunday to get here. Waiting for next week to get here...

When next week gets here I will hopefully be loaded up, packed up, and headed back to Arkansas for a spell. You see, i have recently become a land owner...yes that is correct...I will be a transient with a home base. A place for my stones to gather some moss before rolling on again.


I am going home to Arkansas in about a week to play around and enjoy some of the month of May. It looks like that i will bee working down in the New Orleans area on and off for the next couple of years if I do what they want me to...

Whenever someone starts trying to pin me down, I get antsy. All of a sudden i want very badly to quit my job. I know its no fun to not have money... but i sure prefer the ideal of freedom to the reality of servitude... perhaps i need to get out of the game and channel my inner non-conformist idealist for a while... spend a little time with my feet int he water and my hands in the dirt rather than with my butt in an office chair and my eyes fixed firmly on the carrot that is dangling in front of me that smells like greenbacks.

I'd say 75% of the people here think that they would like to have my job, and perhaps they would... Does that make me want to fight to keep it?

not really

*pause*

Sorry friends. When I was returning from getting coffee and I noticed the sign for the "Break Room" (from which i stole the insignia at the top of this post) I was inspired to share it... and i was thinking about writing something light and informative for those of you who are kind enough to check up on me occasionally, but the inside comes out... and i guess i'm not content.

Yet, come to think of it, if i were content, i would be a bit worried.

The story is this:

I am done working in Louisiana for the time being.
I have purchased 75 acres of land in Arkansas just adjacent to Big Piney Creek and bordering Mill creek. On this land there are 2 barns and 4 ponds and a small creek.
I am going to Arkansas in a week to tear down a 40x50 barn that was built in 1918 which is made of Oak and is located 120 miles from my house with hopes of turning that reclaimed lumber into a home sometime in the near future.
If you live in Arkansas come see me. Hell, if you live anywhere come see me, I will give you food, drink, and a place to stay.

I must go. the next shift is about to arrive.

c

Saturday, April 9, 2011

sleeping through life



No new posts...

yes, i fear it is so

I am not feeling like capitalizing and punctuating because it is 0640 hours and i have not been to bed so bear with me.

I am working nights at Waterford 3 nuclear plant... one of the largest two-loop pressurized water reactors in the nation.

and that fact is not relevant to this story except to say that for a moment this evening while i was walking around inside the reactor containment building wearing a funny white suit and a hard hat... i woke up for a minute.

it is only when i awaken for a minute that i realize that i am living my life asleep... a zombie going through the paces
talking walking storytelling looking driving eating sleeping waking and all of it in a stupor

I don't know what exactly rousted small parts of my brain (who quickly shrank back to their dormant state) but something did.

i can actually put in words what it was that i felt while i was awake... but it was a growing discontent...

I listened to music on the way home... for some of you this is not much, but i am not a music listener. i am a silence enjoyer and a thinker, music is charged with an emotion and an energy for me, it carries me to a place and time... tonight, i went to a house that i house-sat when i was 18 while the family was in England, I went to an apartment building in Russellville, and i went on a 2003 road trip to Iowa in a 1986 AMC eagle station wagon... I went on a date in Sioux City Iowa and i relived the winter of 2006.

then i went to WinnDixie on my way home to buy some breakfast beverages, and i saw an old man buying flowers at 6:15 in the morning on a Saturday. (i could still feel the remnants of my true consciousness; i was not yet asleep again )

he was an old man in his 80s wearing the kind of shirts that only an old man or a barber can pull off... the shirts that have a square tail and four pockets cabana style ("square tail shirts for round bellied men" my dad always says) He shuffled in his loafers and worn Levis 501 jeans and his cabana shirt... Smelling of Bay Rum and clove aftershave... freshly shaven well put together buying flowers at 6 in the morning on a saturday..."Can you check me out?" I don't know how to run one of these damn things" he said to the teenage girl who was manning the Self Checkout line, which was the only line open at 6:15

I wrote his story there in my head (listening to Radiohead "High and Dry" partially entranced and living in 2003 in my stationwagon)

I hope he buys flowers for his wife every Saturday and always has.

I watched him slowly shuffle to his truck which was parked in the handicapped space and put the flowers in the back seat. something about his demeanor and his sadness told me that he was not going home to give the flowers to his wife... he was driving to a lonely field full of stone monuments... to give the flowers to his wife... a guttering flame of undying love and an aching sad-happy heart... spending some time with the love of his life.

I truly hope that it was her birthday and that she was sleeping late and he was merely buying the fresh flowers to have in a vase on the tray as he delivered her breakfast in bed...

What the heck is this about?

April 9, 2011...

a day on which i woke up for a moment.