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 Went bizarker last night. Ya man! Totally Hiley Salacie Rastfarei Ganja Gonzo, man! Started here at job site, although I guess it really began with my conversation with father in which he was his usual delusional, patronizing and holier-than-thou self. Was glad to hear about my getting and doing this gig, but then lost me with his gibberish about "good son, maybe now you'll return to California, settle in somewhere and cantihve in (this vein). "What? Get real man! Have you been plugged in to my LIFE at all in the past ... of, decade? Well, at least I had the quick witted wherewithal to respond immediately that, no, actually I have the intensity of "stappihn" (my-how I put it) any time soon. Then I rattled off my should-be-book-signing tour-but-oh-well-what-the-hell-its-a-tour itinerary of planned and potential flagstops across the country, ending with Burning Man (and enunciating this last, evil little pagan that I am). I'm sure the idol worshipping, fornicating, drug-abusing, hedonistic "nature" of the festivals not lost on my old man. Wouldn't be suppressed actually, if it had come up in a sermon at his church at some point. Ha! Wow! I'm in such a good mood this morning! Sitting here in the old hunched over Maine woods cabin that I've named "Tippy", swinging my legs from the elevated doorway like a kid in a too-tall chair. Ole Tippy, was a full 10 degrees slanted downhill when I eyeballed her last week as a worthy and hopefully profitable project with which to fill these last days of July, the last week before my Tuesday departure to LAX. Been working on her two days now and got the slope sown to about 5 degrees. Waiting on my lumber delivery presently. Back to my mood -- yeah, nice to fee good today. I really flipped our last night. Kept hearing my Dad's patronizing bullshit, specifically the phrase "You can do anything you set your mind to." Harmless at first glance, but just wait till the sub text hits you. Cuz, from my father's lips to my ears, the phrase becomes this: "At last you have learned that on good, hard labor will make you happy, so forget about that silly writing distraction of yours, pretend it didn't happen like that time I caught you masturbating as a child. I am all-knowing, all-seeing, and there's nothing you can tell me or discover for yourself that I don't already know or won't make you feel small and deflated about with my patronizing response. (You get the picture) So, all day my id or my ego or superego, alterego, eggo, leggo, leggo
my eggo fails me with daddy's voice and I work away over here hacking
and jacking and digging and wilting and sweating and at some point one
of my 22 ton jacks give way in the soft earth and the whole friggin house
lurches toward me with one mighty groan and, is thankfully saved by my
backup support system but not before freaking the shit out of me. Drinking a shipyard ale, Dan calls is "Ship wrecked." That's Dan humor. Not a big leap mentally, I acknowledge, but it made me laugh. His mother, on the other hand, from whom Dan derives a larger than normal percentage of his personality, is a basket case of .... oh! sorry, I meant "classic case" of dull, dull humor and in appropriate frankness. (Or is that frankincense?) Dan's mother's "jokes" (if you could call them that) are as original as a fart after eating beans. (And yes, grammmariticeans, I assure of the modifier prosperm incumbent in that sentence, and I DON'T GIVE A DAMN! Lastly, if you thought Dr. Laura and Greene Garbonzo were frank, you should meet Mrs. Coleman. Fueling the deadbeat dad. "29 years!" says Dan. "Where has all the time gone?" Tap-tap goes the swift flick of y hand, and I say to Dan "Here's where all he time went ..." and I snort the brown shit up and scream "...up my nose! that's where the time went, Danny ... up my nose!" Dan sees the fowrito spread on David Bogt and says "Oh, the yuppie! ... Timity repsgle he see's Katheen "the woman from Bisbe oh yes I liked her very down to earth." This guy with the mountain he's could, he was on the TV, too. [Note: the author apologizes for falling over unconscious @ this time] Slim shoddy blizding ar of my little portable broadcast from giz moose at somewhere here in Maine. Just hired two young boys, teenagers, to dig for me because, yes its true I am getting too old to dig whilst lying on my back beneath the spider infested rim joists and floor of a old wobbly cabin in the woods. Crawl space. Voogh! They don't call is that for nothing. yeah, so I came to the conclusion today that parting with one Benjamin from my bidded joncies. This job was too tall I wish not wanting to do that digging by myself. Wandered those sparsely populated parts door-to-door 'til I found some willing young'ns. The sun just set behind the mountains. I've gobbled down my and of Chef Boy spaghetti, a few beers and am ready to return to the job. Yes, that's right. Your-faithful scribe is going into overtime tonight to work by Coleman Lantern 'til midnight to get tippy upright so that I can get on an airplane in four days and go home wherever that is and see my beautiful boys, my nephews Jake and Mathew, and hopefullymom and Baruce and Colby and Mike before he goes off to law school and son on before I jet off again. SOME
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