The Ferryman

*

I know that I am blessed beyond all measure.

I know also that I am doomed.

*

It sounds better if you switch those two statements.

*

I know that I am doomed.

I know also that I am blessed beyond all measure.

*

Same facts, but one is more comforting to face.

*

I think all the time about Temple Grandin's slaughterhouse ramp, how it is designed not to alarm the cattle as they circle their way down a path that grows ever narrower and leads to a real dead end.

We're all of us on it. The trick is to keep reminding yourself of it so you don't sleep walk your way through and miss the whole shebang.

And it's a hell of a good ride.

*

I don't know how I managed to latch on to my wife, but what a poor world I would have known if not for her.

Nor will I leave go of her.

*

Namaste.

***

Chief Sitting Down Now

*

Working like mad on the inside of the trailer now. Prepping, painting, rebuilding here and there. It's a mess, but exciting as hell. 

It will be a sight to behold when we're done in there.

*

Heading out to the desert again in a couple of days. Get my shoot on. Just going to be me and my brother and fast, fast murder.

We're only killing paper, though.

*

That's a good thing.

*

We watched Malick's "Tree of Life" last night.

It were Terrence Malick alright. Maybe he was parodying himself, but I doubt it.

Still, I'm a sucker for him and even when he's overly self-indulgent, which is always, but even more so here, I still like seeing the world through his eyes.

*

Okay, more coffee. Walk the dog. 

Get back to work.

***

Namaste.

***

Penitents Seeking Absolution At the Altar of The Easy Jesus

*

Get in line, brother.

The sweet waters yet flow.

*

Sometimes you need to listen to Warren Zevon and get your drink on.

I mean, come on.

*

This place is out to kill us.

*

Sometimes doing bad is the best way to prove you're still kicking. Not real bad, just a little bit bad is all.



*


This round's on me.



*



Skaal!



***

Buffalo Gal

*

I suppose it's natural on this day to think about the Wild Woman of Borneo. Think about how I parented this child who has grown up to be such an unholy terror. Near as bad as anyone I've come across, and that is saying something. Given my line of work.

She's certainly blown the doors off of anything resembling a normal life. For herself, for all of us who love her.

Maybe there is a lesson in there. I don't know. I'm inclined to think that any lesson I try to derive from the whole experience is probably something that I impose on my own rather than something organic to the dynamic.

I love her, though.

Though she kill me.

And her mother.

And all who look her in the eye.


*


My wife just told me that although she wouldn't speak to me directly, the kid wished me a happy father's day from her jail cell, said she loved me and all.


*



Life goes on.




*





Namaste.





***

Baby Got Back

*

So, this is what we started with. Wood rot so bad you could crumble the framing between your fingers. Whoever designed these things is some kind of crack-smoking fool.

Nevermind what kind of fool buys them used and then tears into them looking for bad news.


*

*

The whole back end was rotted out, along with the back half of the overhead and the street side back wall. So everything came out, and we put in all new shiny healthy wood.

*


Like this.


*

*


Gave her some new insulation, too.


Then buttoned her back up nice and tidy.



*

*

*

New butyl tape for the drip edging and the window frame, reinstalled the edging and the window. Brake lights go back on tomorrow, cuz we're both freakin' wiped out.


Started demo on Thursday and she's all buttoned back up on Saturday, spanking new.


Not bad for a couple of amateurs.



*



Namaste.




***

What We Done

*

So, I was supposed to be spending the next month or so in trial- a long, messy, difficult case to put on. A lot of folks had put a lot of work into it, not least of all myself. A good case, solid, but just an enormous pain to put in front of a jury.

Last second, the guy took a deal. 

Soon as the ink was dry, I ran into my boss's office and told him I was taking the next week off. 

Next day, we hit the road.

On The Road Without Jack Kerouac

*


We hit a few spots on the beach, up and down the coast.



Let me tell you, it were a blast.



*

*



Had a little ocean front home there for a few days. Read good books, ate good food, went for lots of long walks, lazed around a whole lot, and generally had fun. Learned a little bit more about our rig, and what we need and don't need, etc. Fine-tuning as we go. I gotta say, that woman is a hell of a traveling companion. Even-keeled, unflappable, generous, kind, happy, and just fun to be around. Her little dog, too.




It was deeply good. Restorative.





*




And speaking of restorative:

This is how she sits as of this morning. We spent yesterday on the demo of the entire back wall, and the ceiling in the back half of the Nomad. The previous owners had done some bad things to her that left her open to the elements along the roofline and other places, so she had gotten some serious water damage.

So off came the skin, and out came the rotted walls and ceiling.


Today we'll find out if we can put her back together in somewhat better shape.


Lots to learn.


But I'm having the time of my life.



*



Namaste.





***

Jawbone

*









I can't stop chewing on the bone of the world.







*






I am too old to feel this unsettled.






Groundlessness, Pema Chodron calls it. You think you have a life, it's illusory.


It's ill, and it's for losers.



*



The things I believe are solid are not so. These things are external and internal and there is really no difference between the two. Everywhere I look I am imprisoned by my habitual way of thinking, feeling, and reacting, yet I am also completely unmoored, unable to find anywhere solid to rest. Unable to escape my mind, unable to be at peace in the world as it is. Seeking to avoid all the things I fear. Unwilling to abandon the damaging patterns I erected to bolster my ego, to keep myself safe from the dangerous world and the people in it.



Bone sick of my self-created prison, terrified to leave it, I gnaw and pace and rattle the bars of the cage, bars that seem solid enough, but if I'd just drop them they'd fall to the ground in a heap.



*






Still, I persist in it.






*




Ah, me.








*



Namaste.




***

Leaving The Island

*
























*




namaste.





***

Sunday Breakfast

Piping hot espresso from the bialetti moka express. Hot whipped milk or soy and a big mug, drink until your ears ring.

Applewood smoked bacon, as much as will fit in your skillet.

French toast, but mix up some softened butter and brown sugar and once the pan is hot, drop a tablespoon of the butter sugar mixture in the pan. When it's melted, drop in a couple of slices of the bread you've dredged in the milk and egg and cinnamon mixture. The sugar and butter will caramelize and give the toast a sweet candied crunch.

Mess of fried eggs with runny yolks.

Eat while reading the New Yorker and absentmindedly patting the dog's head. Enjoy the companionable silence of your partner, interrupted only by the sounds of coffee slurping and fork-scraping against the plate.

After clean up, take the dog for a walk.


On second thought, walk the dog later.



Take a nap.



*




Namaste.




***

Sustenance

*

North African Shrimp Tagine.


Peel and chop eight ripe plum tomatoes and put them in a saucepan with some olive oil and three or four large cloves of garlic that you've either minced or put through a press. Add a generous tablespoon of ground cumin. Let that thicken and bubble over a medium flame for half an hour or so. Add salt and pepper.

Meantime, in a large bowl combine a handful of chopped parsley and another of cilantro, a tablespoon of fresh minced ginger, another of pimenton or paprika, a teaspoon of red chile flakes, a big pinch of saffron (rub it between your palms to break it up into smaller bits). Add the juice from a lemon and about a half cup of olive oil. Stir to combine and then throw in a pound of shrimp and let them marinate while your sauce thickens.

Once your sauce is how you like, divide it and reserve half. Next layer about three or four carrots you've peeled and sliced on the diagonal. They go over the half of the sauce still in your pan. Slice one large or two medium red onions and layer the onions over the carrots. Slice four red potatoes and layer them on top of the carrots. Slice a red pepper and a jalapeno very thin and layer them on top of the potatoes. Spoon the reserved sauce over the top and cover. Cook until the vegetables are tender, about thirty minutes.

When the veggies are tender, layer the shrimp on top. Add a layer of salt-cured lemon slices (slice up a lemon, dredge the slices in a salt/sugar mixture and let them chill in a bowl in the fridge while you're cooking, longer is better but even half an hour works.) Add a generous handful of pitted kalamata or green olives or both. Pour the remaining marinade from the shrimp over the top, cover and give it another ten minutes or so, until the shrimp are pink and piping hot.

Serve with yesterday's grilled onion focaccia and whatever red you have at hand. You could serve it over a grain, or sop up the pot liquor with the focaccia.

Eat as much as you can, then have the rest for leftovers the next day, even better.



*


Namaste.


***

Pancakes

*
























*



namaste.



***