Whats Next?

Paddling Lake Woebegone... again.

Viernes 15 de Marzo, 2024

So where to even BEGIN to catch up with myself?

Back to SF Fev 6 - 20; cut short to make sure I was back to MVD in time for my shit to hit the street here — BUT IT DIDN'T, OF COURSE — SO I spent $200 to cut the last week off my trip*, cut the SFUSD by days**, and SIT AROUND for another ten days. So what to do? I know : a BIKEWRECK 🤬 23 Fev: the new bikelane down 18 de Julio, impulse to stare to the right at Crespo looking for the "perfect storage space" that wasn't...

WHAM-BAMM!! Ass over teakettle "en media calle" ; hit that big hard black rubber traffic cone with my left shoulder. Knew I'd jacked it good, and left wrist almost sprained, just above the left knee, left ring fingertip crushed.

People ran up to help the old fool... left arm hanging loose "Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck..." vision pixellated, like my eyeball was hanging out or somethin. Struggled to see and walk, locked the bike to the closest parking sign, walked home bleeding from three spots on my right hand, and from inside my left ear.

Amazed the bike was unhurt, nor were my sunglasses of Bill's, the OPs I spent hundreds on lenses for, just this left shoulder I'd so carefully trained and strengthened since the 2018 surgery to correct the massive rotocuff tear and 40 year old dislocation from the 1977 wreck of Kent C's Alfa. No problem: just let go... again... of the wish, the strength, the confidence, the feeling of some small success. Nothing matters in this BEST of "GOD's will" world. HOW do I know God's watching, maybe laughing? Because the NEXT DAY + 7, Saturday 2 Mar, my stuff arrives at the SimpleBox in Ciudad Viejo 10months and $10K down this road (to ruin). Of COURSE the gold FINALLY shot up past $2100 right after I cashed most of it in to pay off the Aduanas (or Uruvan?) suckers.

Obviously, God wanted to keep me off a bike. Last Friday, 8 Mar, BOTH the blue Retrospec I bought here a year ago, and the newish Trek I just brought from SF were both swiped from just the other side of my door while I was eating my pressure-pot dinner about 9pm.

Not a SOUND. I came out for some reason about 10pm, first noticed the stair's door open, then the clean open space along the tiled wall where the bikes had been. I ran downstairs and outside, talked to a young man working for CUTSCA the bus company standing at the bustop in front of 2033. Yes, he'd seen a man and a woman run out the heavy iron front door into 18 de Julio with my bikes "about an hour" before. The guy almost ran into an oncoming bus in his panic to get away. NO the lobby camera didn't record past 30 minutes before. Pablo, the guy living directly below, turned out to be the building manager.

"We called them to fix the camera system, but they never came." This is the picture he knocked at the door to offer later, and how I tried to make it usable with Photoshop >>>

Juan Pedro, my host's son, was kind enough to offer to let me put off the rent until month's end, but, honestly...

Aikido says: "take the hit — then redirect"... that Saturday I spent an hour with a young policewoman taking my theft report with thinly disguised contempt for another clueless old fuck, this one with such lousy Spanish her patience wore out long before her few questions got answered.

Hard to put into words what I feel and think about, now that I’ve moved halfway around the globe — “gone south” in a big way ( not funny really ). 

Sunday in Montevideo, August 2023: It’s rained some, but not nearly enough. We need soaking, pouring rain for a couple of months to even begin to fix this drought. I brought the DRY here with me, I guess; years ago I thought I could make it rain, too. 

Why would it always pour rain in HOU-TX when the pure meth would hit? The sky burst into tears; try to wash away the... crimes against Nature, not just ours, but of so many there. Angels’ tears.

That morning in June 1976 pulling up to Cherryhurst to get some fits for the “98 per: guaranteed-white-an-outa-site” that Bill N. just made. He was as good a cook as any when he wanted to be. 

I’d still ask for “26-ana-half-gauge” feeling almost cool about it. The sky opened up. It rained fourteen inches in four hours. An unusual day at an unusual time in an unusual life. So what? That story later, maybe. A bit long for casual reading.

Now, Sunday morning just short of half a century later, “I must confess myself to be a bit disappointed...” said Valdemort reawakened. 

Do I link to the WaPo article on “Grey Divorce” to talk about gay divorce? How can I be divorced if I never married? ANYWAY, where is the pink middle of the GREY GAY spectrum: bipolar betwixt “joined at the hip / matching towels and tombstones” and everybody fucks anybody, call it “OPEN”? Either end, it’s still taking down the game — lock on target, take good aim. Isolation and solitude feels the same whether I SLEEP ALONE OR NOT, even in a new language. Often felt like this for me: Major Tom’s birthday call in space, prerecorded, played months later.

Been home sick (not homesick) two days now. Here’s the thing: I feel like the man who wasn’t there. Becoming a widower has brought every painful, sad aspect of my life into bright, sharp focus.

REALLY in the big GRIEF...feel like I'm being buried alive. The day after DC passed, they started to paint the building I live in. Even here on the sixth floor, there is black netting across all my windows. My building is completely shrouded in black with this dull grey sky and chilly cold. So many odd things going—the light socket in my closet (where we'd play)—has quit working. GOD, I'd love some sunshine !!

“Take care not to move too fast—you’re into the past” —P.B.

Gratitude:

2b ALIVE + clean: DC, NG, PH, IS, RW. I’m turning Japanese 60 in 3wks! + 10yrs CLEAN in 7wks.  Got health, a client or two, and somehow paid the RENT (FGS-4GodSake).

Surrender:

I surrender my will + life to  a Higher Power I caLL GOD, that I don’t understand, that can carry me beyond any imagination to a peace Ive never known, a resolution Ive only hoped for. The balm for a dented soul, Bondo for the purpled heart.  BILLY LEACH I MISS U SO.

So what else? 

Music: Obs idea of self-teaching Jack Bruce— OMG what a laugh, mightswell pick Beethoven Piano Sonatra ! Or how about: ABLETON. Or “DJ TommyD” or Pirate Radio KTOM or ...  then there’s th FLUTE; or take up a dubnoBASSwithmyheadman or ...Paint: there’s the 6′ empty canvas in the kitchen w the big wooden easel I spent money for—so now its buried. There’re 6 more small canvasses in the closet from the Spanish Kitchen idea—where’d THAT go?...Photog: OK COMPUTER: can I carry the camera around all the time? am I one of those? Hardly. So how do I pick it up? Why no imp[ulse?  “Chihuahuas In A Container” my next BIG IDEA... (no, not really) a shot? NOoooooooooo... a C4D !!! 

...but i digress...

Photog: what of a portait? 4x5 formals of TL people? Just iPhone grabs? “Gotta Bstartn somthin” I’m stagnant pools of ideas skimmed with pondscum bright emerald in torrid sun, with clouds of flies just overhead. When in doubt, do TEXTYURE studies... ><                         ;)

We all know the earth’s getting hotter—weather more unstable

  Its surprising how fast its happening.

  Polar icemelt is causing coastlines to disappear everywhere.

  Like Katrina showed, folks with limited means along the coast are  least able to cope with the next climate crisis.

  They, like their governments, wait and worry about what next disaster will leave them wiped out.

  Home2Go is a new way out for folks who want take action now.

  A non-profit built along the lines of Habitat International, prospective residents are helped to rerpurpose shipping containers at new, safer locations on higher ground.

  Sweat equity, along with volunteer guidance and multi-level financial assistance, will result in safe happy families andf great savings to all…

LOOK OUT—YOU got a GUN to your head !! As global temperatures are rising, so are sea levels EVERYWHERE.

  Are YOU among the third of the Earth’s families that lives within FIFTY MILES of a coast?

  Miami, New York, New Orleans, Tampa, Boston, Philly, Virginia Beach, Baltimore — ALL y’all gonna have to move—NOW—or that cute ‘lil place is under water!

  What if you got help to move? To a cool, DRY, affordable, custom container home?

A third of the earth’s people lives within 50 miles of a coast. As global temperatures rise, so do sea levels everywhere.

Soon, most coastal families will have to move to higher ground, or risk being flooded. Are you one of them?

What if you got help to move now? To a cool, affordable, custom container home?