What and where? How and why?

Solidity is not
Content to rot
On an abandoned cot...

I have been thinking about Ireland again. That country facinates me for some reason. I am reading a book written in the 60s about two kids who run away from a cruel uncle to Ireland to be with their grandmother. It's not a true story of course, but it's pretty good.

So I've lost my ability to write for now. That's okay I guess, but annoying none the less...

I have lately received some healthy stinging for being so negative. It's a very good thing, for I am now much more inclined to be happy and accepting of life. Sometimes you feel a little run over...but then you think about the greatness of living, all that you have, and life is better. I happened to show up at just the right time to help my uncle fix a broken oil tank for his furnace (his source of winter warmth), and am working on improving my brother's high-school curriculum. It was a suprisingly warm day (55-60) for the end of October in Spokane and I there'll enjoyed it. There is a reason for everything, and enlightenment may not be so far off...

California whispers...and it's gentle words are o so enticing...

Funny, life. Portland and all it's promise and excitement faded, oddly, too quickly. Home hunched over me, wrapped me in it's bittersweet shell, convinced me of it's worthiness. I fought, but I bought. Away from home there is pain, and questions: where ought I go, what should I do? But home is like taking another step backward. Now the encroaching winter spreads it's freezing mist over the ground, and all the hopes of accomplishment dwindle to skulking around the house or grudgingly running for the car to get away from the cold. If not for the fear of not having money for the massive debts, perhaps I would not have scurried from one place to another quite so quickly. And yet great good comes with disappointment: I begin to know where my heart lies; I begin to understand what in means to have character: not doing what you want, but doing what you must. There is great beauty here, and the winter is an interesting reminder of things long forgotten. Hope is a wonderful thing.

Not much could be added to the account by Sinnerman of the Gillian Welch show that would polish it's happy perfection; but I must write on my own that the show was incredible! Gillian and David Rawlings are absolutely amazing. My brother and I saw them in a dingy old theater building in Portland called the Crystal Ballroom: gaudy, smoky, cheap and pratically falling down---it was awesome! I was surprised to find that she sounds even better live than recorded...I realize this should be the case for all artists, but this is my first experience of it. I also just have to say that David Rawlings is oddly intriguing...sort of a knock-kneed shy country boy, but in full command of the show and his instrument. He is a god on the six-string. And the best part of the whole thing was when Gillian called Old Crow's Medicine Show on stage to play with her for her fourth encore. And they played The Weight. Now it's my turn to say: "God Bless that girl!"

Cold steel rails stretch ahead into the darkness of a country night, glinting a little in the frosty starlight. It's chilly here at home. The days are sunny and 70 degrees, but the nights drop the 30s or 40s. I went walking in the dark yesterday, following the railroad that runs past my house on it's way north. My brain is so full: stay here at home and work with my uncle, fix my cars, but make little money; go back to Portland and freedom and the possible work that has cropped up there after the initial disappointments...I don't know. Do I ever? I am beginning to think that I am perpetually looking for something that really can't be found. At least, something that can't be held onto once it's been found. And so goes man's endless struggle for contentment on this earth, all the while knowing that God wishes us to be with Him, not here. Life is full of little wonders though---I ran out of gas in my old truck today, and was given a ride in the back of a friendly neighbor's truck; Later, I asked about an old motorcycle that I used to ride when I was younger, and randomly, it was given to me. These empty fields fill me with a strange emotion...Life out here (home) is lonely and lovely...

On a rainy night in Soho...

Perhaps I don't know as much as I think I do. Misdirection and a wondering, wandering heart. Full and empty. All leaftovers. And we love to paint our words, to sing of our pain and our needs, but who are we really? And why all this lovely poetry?

So, for 1 week I am painting shoes at Nike's World Headquarters. Painting shoes that are the wrong colors for business meetings and the like. It's a very odd job, but I don't mind it too much. I sit quietly in my corner and paint, listening to music or Fulton Sheen lectures. Once one of the ladies there asked what I was listening to, and I replied:
'O, Folk, Bluegrass.'
She looked very hard at me for a long time.
'How old are you?' She demanded.
'22'
'...Well that's just...hmmm...wow.'

I didn't see what the big deal was, but what can I say? Oregonians are weirder than Californians. It's too bad this is a temp job in a way, but on the other hand, I have developed an extreme dislike for corporate America. It SUCKS. All these wimpy, pudgy, pathetic people who know nothing in this world beyond their little button-pushing universe, running around pretending to be hipper and smarter than the helpless, overgrown teen-agers they really are. There. I'm done with my jab, but DAMN! Give me a shovel or a wrench, and at least I'll feel like a man!

It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is...

(I like rain. A lot!)

It's surprising and amazing to be in a place where there is drastic season change again. I been in the Southland for a long time...Not to say it's not beautiful there too, I love it and miss it terribly; but here there are certain smells, a perticular nip in the breeze, a look and feel that hangs about the street corners and under the trees. I hope to stay here for while...

My wireless card just picked up an unsecured network, and I'm sitting at my own desk!!! This is awesome! It's a bit spotty, but hey, I get to blog.