Traveling

How's the trip to OZ? Justin called and said that he and I are lagging in the world travel department. The two of us need a little catching up with You and Brad. When this property sells or is paid off, I think it'll be time for the world tour. Meanwhile we are forced to positions of envy waiting for a someday that may never come. Someday, when pigs fly and I grow hair again. On my head. Justin isn't forced to my position, he's going to Chicago to watch some Ball games. meanwhile it's time to add a "living room" to the shack for me. A room where " we" , we being the local boys that have forsworn the common path, or been asked to leave, can lounge around on a sectional with a coffee table for the bong and watch the NBA. Maybe that swimmer\smoker can come up and hang with us.
We cool. We are the counter-culture, black market, earth news, mother earth, got dredlocks, Barter? Whom blew the towers?, Bradland , Bradman, Bradlaw, Peter Pan culture that rocks in Na Na NaNaNaNa live for today land of OZ everryone wants to balloon to. Australia is probably different too.
Santana jams while I start to put the foundation in; A couple of pieces of eye beam I'll cement into the ground vertically shouldn't rust away in my lifetime. Then a 2x12 crosspiece to support the floor joist running off the house, lay some 2x8 floor joist, then some inch and a quarter tongue and groove plywood and we'll be drinking and waving to tourists from the new deck next week. Haul out the Barbecue, and the stereo, because these mountains rock.
Walls will go up in July. Lots more mirrored windows. And of course I'll adhere to that custom look that says, No carpenter experience and No permits throughout. Everybody will love it , the tourists will stop and take pictures, like they do now, and we'll print postcards and send them out With the caption, " IT COULD BE WORSE" .
And of course it could. We could have nothing to look forward to. Thats the trick of course, to have something to work towards: A trip to Australia, a cubs game in the city of the Bulls , a big room for Octoberfest, better Gumbo. Life is soooooooooooo wonderful. Aren't you glad we were never afraid? Now just be smarter than I was. Intelligence does encompass apprehension too.
Here's hoping Dorothy is giving you the tour of the Yellow Brick road and the wicked witch of the south is a mistress in black, jand not a widow.

Letters from my third son - Letter Four

The Flat

Orders are being shouted out over glass breaking in a busy Italian restaurant. Erin sits across from me and tells me her story. At some point in the conversation I see a waiter and think to myself. How did he get to this point in his life? He’s clearly in his forties and the many lines on his face want to tell me the stories of how they got there. I sit and wonder what was his drug of choice. Did he ever kick it and if he did when was the last time he had to fight the demon. Was it over a woman, the lost job, or the simple yearning that he has carried all these years that just caught him at the right time. Erin poses a question to me but I was off in my world again. I say something silly then blame it on jetlag. My responses to all her questions are in this fashion and it starts to come off as charm.

A light stroll by the Beautiful Darling Harbor leads us getting into a more personal conversation. I soon realize I could take the turn here and set myself up for some sort of intimate encounter. I think to myself, I didn’t come across the globe to hook up with a girl from San Diego and if I did it would be with this girl? Sure she had a nice body but other things about her just didn’t fall into place for me. Now do I do it just for the story sake? At this point I figure I will just leave it be. I also like to look as if I don’t care about what she has to offer. She seems the type that likes to test a guy's patience- aka a cock tease. Our walk leads us back to my hostel. She informs me that she lives one building over. Then she tells me she has seven flat mates to a two-bedroom apartment. I have got to see how this works

The Door Swings open to the flat that is small but modern in look. It looks just like a hotel room. On one of the pleather blue couches sits Fabian, a 24-year-old French guy from Cannes. Fabian has a crew cut and a brow that makes him look almost wolfish. If he gains another 5 lb the wolfish look could end up looking piggish. Sitting next to him is a Korean girl named Sky. Sky could be the mascot for blind happiness. I say that because she doesn’t ever speak, only smiles, and runs around the flat handing out hi fives all day for no reason. I can see her doing this during the apocalypse. Just across from her is a French guy also named Fabian. This Fabian is the type that would come to the states and clean up. A bedroom door opens and two fools pop out. Brian, a 30-year–old dude from San Diego that happens to be Erin’s brother. Next to him is a dark guy name Mattose, from Brazil, that only talks threw his top front teeth. Oh, did I say talk? I meant yell, because a yell is the only volume he talks in. In the kitchen is a girl with dirty blonde hair and black thick-rimmed glasses From Sweden. I forget her name because she ducked out before I really got to meet her. Also in the kitchen is Reynaldo, making drinks for everyone. Reynaldo came from Brazil just like Mattose, but he is polar opposite from him. Erin asks me if I want a drink. I respond no but for some reason I have one in my hand before I even finish my response. I have wanted a drink for the past 2-3 weeks and it’s the one drink I wanted too. A Jack and Coke... light on the Coke. I hold it in my hand and think is this how day one in Sydney is gong to go? You bet your ass!!!!!!

Letters from my third son - Letter Three

New Friend

I’m ushered into a car I have no idea the make of. It looks like a typical middle class get you to point A to B. We drive off into the city and I stare at this new landscape from the car window, I size it up like an ex’s new mate. Sydney is gloomy this Wednesday morning and I can’t wait for the rain to return. The city smells like sidewalk that has been freshly hit drenched in liquid sunshine. It takes me back to my days of walking to school in the rain. On the walk I would daydream of being back in bed and listening to the music the rain created outside. I jump out of my memory when lissett announces to me that we are at my hostel

Slamming the car door shut I make my way across the street to my hostel. I check in, get my key, and hear the run down. I quickly step out on to George Street and light my last cigarette. I walk about 20 minute in all four directions just so I have a decent feel for the land. I take a look at endless shop signs that I will have to remember just as well as the street names. When traveling it’s just as important to know where you have been, along with where you are, and where you are going. Traveling is way different than a vacation. When one travels they must be alert at all times. You must know your surroundings, remember conversations, recognize places, and constantly analyze everyone. The mental part of traveling is just as taxing as the physical part. It starts to rain harder and makes this gorgeous city even more so. The city is painted with rainwater and the streets now look like they are paved in marble. I head back toward my hostel to meet up with a friend I meet through a co-worker. As soon as I walk threw the doors she is there to greet me.

The first thing anybody will notice about our new friend is that she will have a lot of back problems when she gets older. These things are ridiculous and to top it off she has a small waist that accentuates her upper torso. Now in most cases a good upper half means the back yard doesn’t have enough room to run a full court game. Now, I said most cases, but not this one. The only thing about her is that she is 5’3 and 24, so I know that that waist will fill out and her coke bottle figure will turn into a 2 liter, but as it stands now... it’s time to play ball. “Hello I’m Erin.”

Letters from my third son - Letter Two

Flight Q

You Never Know who you are going to end up next to on a flight. You could get that talker who really has absolutely nothing to say. They talk of people that they know and think are interesting but are really aren’t, along with a sense of humor that would creep out a priest. I can just see it, he leaves the confessional ‘Thank you Father” the priest takes a moment then lets out a breath and says “Ehh Now there’s a kid I wouldn’t touch”. I totally forget about this part of the trip, it doesn’t hit me until after I take the walk down the corridor. I see my seat and there is no one in the row so far. There are three seats so this means I could very well get the talker and the person who never put soap to skin. Now I play the waiting game.

Your flight partner will determine the type of flight you have. Knowing this fact scares the shit out of me. I’m looking at a 14-hour stint inside this economy-sized coffin. I start to size up every person coming down the aisle. A big guy is headed my way and all I could think is find your seat soon PLEASE! With every aisle he passes I start to accept my fate of an uncomfortable flight. Now he is standing right next to me and pauses. In my mind I let out a NOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Like we all did after we found out sex and the city was in its final season. I’m in for a flight of pasty ass forearm brushing up against me every time he tries to dig himself into a slumber, not to mention the heavy mouth-breathing that is currently occupying the whole left side of my face as he stands next to me. Luckily he was just waiting for someone to put away something in the overhead compartment. A sai of relief comes flowing from my rib cage. I was a new man! We the jury fined Carlos rodriguez… not guilty, he shoots he scores, goooaaaaalll!!!! Oh by the way just a side note this flight has four of the ugliest babies on it. It’s like a reverse baby pageant on this plane. One ugly baby is ok but four at the same place at the same time just aint right. This plane is doomed. Well the flights damn near packed and no partners on this trip. I dig into my pocket for my ipod and that’s when I hear a voice. “Excuse me I’m the window seat over there.”

Before I even get a chance to see the mug shot of the perp that just hijacked my perfect flight. One of the ugly babies lets out a hell cry. It catches my attention as I get up to let the passenger get their window seat. I can hear the beast from a far. I come up on the horizon of the seat in front of me like some rescue chopper coming to the aide of a forest fire that’s way out of control. It’s eyes where on the sides of its gigantic head. The slobber seeping threw the gaps of its half set of teeth. Everything fell silent I stood in fear I stare at the kid and this type of ugly makes the world move in slow motion for me. It lets out this devil like deep roar. It felt like I was in some kind of bad dream. I thought a bear was going to walk on the plane and announce that he will be our captain for this flight, then jump into a seat and turn into a case of beer. Not to disturb the baby beast any further, I slowly eased my way out of its view. The same way you would when you see a dog on a street at night. Back in my seat and upset by what I just witnessed, I try not to look at my new flight mate. My luck they would be the person that has a fear of flying and tell me all about it before take off. Like I need that right now. Just as I get my head straight my thoughts are interrupted by an introduction “Hi I’m Lissett.”

She held out her hand and I stared at it for a bit, still shaken up I mutter out my name. I reach out for her hand. It was so soft that I don’t feel it on contact for the first second or so. She gives me a gentle smile and goes on to ask me the simple inflight questions. I ponder giving her all lies and then living them out right there in my seat. I decide not to for some reason. The moment I realized I liked lissett is when I asked how old she was. She responded just like a teenager would who is about to lie to the opposite sex about their age. “How old are YOU!!!” Lisset was a slender woman with a pecan complexion and rich dark hair. She had a very pleasant beauty to her face, you can tell she never really had any use for make-up. I find out lissett is a Puerto Rican from Lancaster PA, who has been going to school in Sydney for the past 3 years. I explain to her how I’m dreading to see who is going to sit with us. Now we both play the waiting game on edge. We sit cheering every time we see someone find a seat that is not next to us. She tells me when we get to Sydney she and her flat mates will give me a ride to my hostel. As soon as I start to thank her we hear the captain speak. “Everybody. Prepare for take off.”

Letters from my third son - Letter One

SFO 5:30pm

My stomach is full of some food that came out of a bag with a symbol on it. I can’t remember what it was but wherever it came from its still the same as all the others. I sit here in an airport seat waiting to get my boarding pass to make it to the next spot for the hurry up and wait part of traveling. I stop to think are these shoes even ready for what is about to happen to them? They don’t even know what they are in for. I’m about to let them live like a young car thief lets his latest vehicle live. Taking’em to their limits, hitting corners hard, and running wild all over parts unknown. Just thinking about it brings a shit eating grim to my face. My Ipod Shuffle jumps from a serene track to a hard hitting deep cut from an album I once listen to over and over again in Paris.

I arrive a day late after a detour I took due to me being a new traveler (but that’s another story). Jumping off the train I laid my black & white shelltoes on the Gare De Noir pavement. The dank air of the station clings to me like a girls perfume after a deep hug. The Song is booming in my headphones, I try finding out which direction the way out to the street is. The track gets to that point in the song where is just vocal and one string. I walk closer to the train station door to get my first glimpse at this city I‘ve heard so much about. The morning sun is blaring threw every window I couldn’t even make out any part of what was outside. I make my way closer and the track starts in with that lone drum build up they always have. Every time the rubber from my shoes touches the ground the song gets more intense, as soon as I get to the door and feel the morning air. The track lets loose with and avalanche of instruments raining down along with a hard yell from the lead vocal. My vision of Paris was equally matched, a cavalcade of people coming and going in all direction, buildings big and wide that seem to go on forever in every way. It felt like being in one of those movies where a guy wakes up in the future and everything is alive and moving. I stared for a bit and then I took THE NEXT STEP.

For two weeks (not nearly enough time) I don’t have to worry about deadlines, my keys, Bombing, getting there, problems, Talking, gas, answering questions, perception, the future, expectations, trash day, staying sober, the past, how many licks it takes, the clock, them, my car, meetings, The snooze button, you, and the rest of the shit I left behind on the drive here to SFO. FUCK IT!!!! One last drag off this Newport before I head back inside and get ready for ANOTHER STEP

Cheney For President??

Is the former Vice-President preparing to make a run for the White House? Shouldn't the current term be his? I mean, usually the vice-president will run for president upon the heels of the incumbent president. Dick Cheney had his chance and as we all remember, the Republican Party didn't even want the guy at the convention. Dick Cheney drew nothing but negative reaction from the American people five months ago. Cheney didn't even attempt the nomination he was so unpopular, so why does he feel the American people now want to hear his opinion, and why is the media giving the last administration's crys of fear airtime?
Never before can I remember the "last'" administration working so hard against the new one. Dick Cheney isn't running for the White House, so he must be running from something else. I believe he's running from the fear of discovery. Discovery of a thread that unwinds the true story of 9\11 and the War on Terror. He's five months late for the electio , so why the public rebuttal justifying the war on terror? Reinforcing the scare words "Al Qaeda", "9 \ 11", "Terrorists", repeatedly, Cheney's speech was really to remind us of our fears, and to keep those key words with all their gory images in our minds. What will we do when we find out Cheney is the terrorist? Somebody must be stitching together the truth of those towers falling, and the false pretense that the War on Terror has been predicated on.
That or Dick is the new voice of the republican party, supplanting Rush Limbaugh as the voice of the religious right and conservative fright. Take your pick Bible-belt America, whom speaks for you, the sweating drug addict, or the well dressed neo-Nazi?
Doesn't everybody feel like I do and just want Cheney to disappear? Go home Dick, the hijacking of a nation is over, and the shaping of policy by secret agendas and skull and bones will have to be done secretly again.
Fearmonger. As you listen to Dick, realize he is still propagating a lie that he helped to create, and you must believe, if he is to escape investigation.
Bring the troops home now.

The Road To Happy Camp

The road to Happy Camp is open. Strange cars pass by I don't normally see from my upstairs window. Some of them belong to residents of Happy Camp. Happy Camp is closer to Cave Junction than it is to Yreka, and during the warm months of the year the road is open between here and there.. Oregon has no sales tax, so Happy Campers will drive here to shop. Other's are tourists. People whom might point or stop and take pictures of the shack. They go home and say, "Look how poor people in Oregon live".
Inching along, every day is a small progression of throwing good money after bad, and hoping the world will improve sooooo much it will save me. I hope all those doomsday pessimists convincing us the party is over are wrong, I just today invested another 23 dollars in pipe for this property that will never be worth what I paid for it. Years of living in Real Estate markets where you could be comatose and make money, where "property will always appreciate", made us feel smart. Dumb.
I wasn't smart, I was lucky. A lot of other people's luck has expired. Mine? Maybe. Luck is a funny.thing. Sometimes you got it going though you think you don't. ie. I was going to buy a house. A good buy. The owner got smart, backed out , sold to someone else after raising the price. That winter the place burned down. Lucky? I didn't think so initially, but the fire changed my mind. Sour grapes turn sweet sometimes. Normally, though, it's like the Chinese say," Expensive isn't expensive, Cheap isn't cheap".
No I didn't burn the place down.
It has been a very depressing week. The property was sold, or at least we thought , then not. This economic recession \ real estate depression is bullshit when it adversely affects me. Damn personal. I'm still hoping I can liquidate here, and take advantage of the depression elsewhere, before it's over. Cash is King and I speak Chinese, you wouldn't think there could be a problem.
Or maybe I'm really lucky this property won't sell, at least for a profit, and I won't realize it for a while longer. That of course would mean California had gone to hell, fallen into the sea or something, and everybody that survived had to move to Oregon. I don't know if I can wish that on the world for the little bit of money I have invested here.
There we have it; Be careful what you wish for; You never know; and I guess this is more of a ramble than a rant because I ain't mad; it is as it is.

The Space Station

Spring arrived in Southern Oregon for about a week in April. May has brought rain it's first three days. I'm making chicken stew. The creeks are running again and the pond has found new life. The frogs are happy. I was ready for sunny and warm. The satellite view shows a lonnnng stream of cloud that tails off the California-Oregon coast all the way across the Pacific to China ; Prognosis, rain for days to come. Good UFO weather, they like the cloud cover, and the mountains of southern Oregon. There's even a space station up the road .
No,...You didn't know that?
Google southern Oregon UFO and see all about it. Well, not the space station, that's a local secret. The more I look at the pacific satellite view , the more I'm moved to doomsday predictions: The snowpack is heavy, this is a warm spring storm, the reservoirs are full in NoCal; the conditions are ripe for flooding down in the valleys. Watch out river towns, you may have to move a few tent cities.
Anyway, up the road a half mile there is a three hundred acre parcel that was developed by a man believing that aliens were going to land there. He flattened a mountaintop for a landing zone and erected a metal building that looks like a dorm. Supposedly it was going to be a welcome center. The space station. Judging from UFO sightings in Southern Oregon the aliens are still looking for it. Nowadays, I think they rent out rooms in the welcome center on a monthly basis. I don't know if the occupants are aliens from another planet, but some of them look pretty alien. Backwoods folk. Beverly Hillbillish...... without the money.
Remember the days of the flower-child, hippies, peace, love, dope, .....maaannnnn... they never ended in this area, and some of the inhabitants of Takilma look like they walked right out of 1969. Others have incorporated success into the look. Still others look like all that was bad about the era too. However, if there is a living spirit of that era, having migrated north up the California coast to Oregon , it now lives in Takilma.
Takilma, named after the local indians, is a mispronunciation of the local indian's name. They are the DaGilma, which translated is "Big Family". Not by coincidence, big family in Chinese-Mandarin is pronounced very similarily. ( DaJia).
This place is slow today. The driving rain keeps the Bluejays from hawking for bread crumbs. The grey winged buzzards aren't circling. The grey squirrels aren't running up and down the trees. We're all staying home and out of the rain. It's cozy, but when you're ready for warm and sunny, hot choclate is not what you want.
Three days later it's still raining. Went to the dentist today and had seven teeth pulled. My nose is still numb. I wish I could make in an hour what that dentist makes; 1365 dollars and he pulled those teeth in about ten minutes. I'm ready for a nap , depressing to think about the money spent.