Tuesday, August 22, 2006

six hours in a car with sleeping passengers. my father nods off in the front seat, his head doing the customary dip and rise of the habitual cat napper, girls in the back seat emitting slight squeals every hour and twenty-seven minutes. coming over the rise from tri-cities into the Yakima valley the sun burns a brilliant deep pink on one side of the sky while a mellow orange sinks down to the left, as if our world was gifted another sun for this evening.

quick, uneventful trip across this great state shrouded in darkness. haunting thoughts of women passed by the wayside. my mind toys with the idea of longing, patience, love in her myriad disguises. i wrestle through writing a letter to my mother in my mind and fail for the time being. my mind and time, two cruel bitches of which I have most certainly had enough. too many words to filter through my full heart, who wishes it didn't speak english.

old friends drift back into my peripheral life, as if their lack of presence forbode my missteps these three years gone, invested in foreign banks. now, with wine and sci-fi shorts, Eamon and I relax in this place not quite home. upon waking we will crank the gears on this old beast we're building, set in motion the movements which will carry us into tomorrow. a mountain of books in the living room portends next week's toil and tuck (that means work and food, mr. illiterate 21st century man). tomorrow or the next we will start the dig and count the dollars slowing rolling in. curious feeding off this world of books for so long now... I haven't had a real job in, well, almost never. That's why I loved Joe's new title from Microcosm: How To Work Any Hundred Hours a Week in Your Underwear. My life in a nutshell... except I work any one to two hundred hours a month that I want. Granted it's sometimes drawn out and sometimes packed into one solid five or six day period. And then I work on it in little bits and pieces every day, here and there, like a quilt you pick up when you have time between the bullshit.

so many projects. eamon just bought our friend's 21 foot fiberglass Luger Southwind sailboat with no interior. so that's our next endeavor for the next ____________. it will be nice to have a different project to work on periodically, aside from all these ones so personally tied to me. plus I've never done anything like this before and I really, really, really want to sail as much as possible.

girls had a good run in walla walla, summoning up and stringing together a new storm of words this weekend. don't have my notes in front of me right now unfortunately. tons of time with grandma, a nice sunday with grandpa, solid play/walk in the park. no time at the cabin this trip, although eamon and i made it up on sat. for an hour or so to see 'er in the swing of summer.

this wine sucks. my balls itch. it is good to be home.
tomorrow it continues with green ben on the streets and in the gutters.
stay tuned for more news from the good ship fatherhood.

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