Five in the ay em, Boe’s house on 26th and Dolores. Soon, our bus will be my home. I’m looking forward to that. Just need to get the genny working, but it is alien to me. The plug has no spark, but the wire is attached to a strange tiny box, about an inch square – not a coil, and it looses me there. What the fuck? Lost. Don’t like not being able to fix things. At least I was able to get it started when the tumbler for the key fell out and dissapeared in Reno. (hmmm. not ignition, just the key tumbler.) Logic is a curse and blessing, and hell – while Boe was out looking for the tumbler, I took a common tool and made our bus come to life. I was a hero for about 30 seconds. Good enough. A few cheers and we were on the road.
I’m fucking 40 now. That’s weird. Just another anticlimactic lack of celebration, but fuck it. There were three things that made it matter – a delightful childrens book hand delivered on the Playa by Rising (she said it reminded her of me), a treat and wonderful card from Anastasia, and finding wonderful birthday wishes everywhere I looked from Keri. Yeah, not so bad.
Time to sleep.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When I returned to The City, it was still all work – I didn’t want to play so much, just do what I needed to. When we were unloading the 53 foot trailer someone (I forget his name) gave me a matchbook. Not just any matchbook – what they do is take the unused Burning Man tickets and make them into covers for the matches. He works for the company that makes the tix, and this is what they do. Coolest friggin’ thing ever, and except for the piece of conch shell that Vegas gave me, the best schwag I recieved.
This matchbook, made out of a 2005 ticket, missing the striker (it fell off) was/is something very dear to me. I didn’t know how much I needed to give it away until I saw Belva again, hours before she needed to head back to Canada. She’s one of us, but not allowed to join.
That evening, while we were wandering around, drunk on booze and bacon, this beautiful being read me my rights, called me on my shit. She seemed startled that I took it so well, but fuck – I am only me, and long ago I decided that the most important things to have in life are Grace, Honesty, and Style. With grace and honesty, new worlds can be created. With style – hell, we’ll make ’em look good. Personal style. Who are you? Show me.
In the wee hours of the night, in the glimpse of the morning light I knew that she had to go, and I pulled the matchbook out of my pocket and gave it to her, telling her not to use it – but be sure to bring it back when she returns. Bring it back to me, to us. Make this matchbook bring her back.
Then, she said a piece of her mind.
We say a lot, but do little – and now is the time to act. We do a little, and need to do more. Words are only that, we need to act. We need to focus on ourselves and become what we can and only after that will we be able to shine as bright as we should. Lead by example. What right do I have to offer shit that may help, as I lay homeless and broke? I am not a martyr, I am a warrior. it is grace and style, it is dignity that I need to show the way – but fuck, there’s a bottom as well, and not everything is pretty, and not everything is beautiful and filled with light. I know this. I’ve seen it, and it is a part of me. This is one hell of a fight – but really, it’s not a fight at all. If you fall, you just get up, know your wounds, care for them until they are smaller. Never ignore them… but I ramble. This is Belva’s message to me. It is time to reach goals – the past year was simply igniting the fire…
~ ~ ~
Thank you ever so much for hearing me out last night. I didn’t realize it was all sitting there until it started to come out. Your a blessed man KSea….take advantage of that ;0)
So I’m kinda serious about connecting in a year and taking a look at where we’re at. I say this for you but also for me too!!! It’s time for me to pull up my socks as well in my own way and get really serious about some things.
Perhaps we can set some goals between us that we hope to have achieved in the next year. We can hold each other accountable ;0) It’s these things that make me work hard…being held accountable.
AGain KSea, thank you ever so much for hearing me with such grace. I am grateful for your forgiveness in it all.
~ ~ ~
We exchanged words, ate bacon. Vegas almost cut his pinky finger off, but didn’t remember how. Strangely, I did. Four of them went to sleep on a bed, I was fine on the couch. I remember Belva coming in later to cover me with a blanket.
I am too fimiliar with alone these days – but that’s fine, I guess. There is shit I need to do, and on top of that – I’ve become one selective bastard. Gone are the days of satiating the flesh in a random way. I don’t need to relive that emptiness.
The one I would consider, the one I adore – well, she’s pretty damn busy too. So it goes. So it goes. I’ll just be happy to laugh with her again, the way we did before…
And now I’m getting all sappy, and the writing needs to stop before I say too much.