SqEarl

one handed keyboard (left even) is not so fast or easy, so i'll make it breif. i had carpel tunnel surgery today. But that's not what I want to write about.

As you may have noticed a lot of time has been going into my domestic surroundings. One of the last thing i did yesterday was vacuum out the closet i built. When i turned on the shopvac and began pulling in dust the machine was blasting out hot air. I inhaled and found myself with my old dog SqEarl. The odor was strong, sweet and musty a tinge of wet dog softened by her yellow eye looking up at me.

She was with me from 10 week - 11+ years. too short to be honest. She was a wild one, and completely untrained. I wanted a dog and thought grad school would provide the time for good time together. It did and we walked for miles and miles along the greenbelt in Austin. SqEarl would run ahead and check back to make sure I was still there and safe. When Fig arrived she would follow SqEarl's every move on the trails (except the swimming).

Whenever it would flood the water in the creek bed was an astounding turquoise. We'd go down a quiet trail and wander for hours.

SqEarl developed bone cancer behind her eye and I ended up putting her to sleep at home on December 4, 2005 or 04? I have used the shop vac rarely since that time and was pleased to get a whiff of my dead dog today.

can't deal w/ the typing situation more to come...

Bruises

I know, you think it's gonna be an exciting story right? It is, but not that kind...

I built a closet and an office in the garage. I feel proud and accomplished. The closet has sheetrock, tape, mud and paint and it's ready to receive, sans door. I'll be putting up shelves and racks today that will hold of clothing, boots and purses. In the house and yard there are mountains of boxes covering mountains of furniture and the beginnings of a yard sale (that pile must grow). The storage space is not full but not empty for sure. We have our work cut out for us and I'm so happy to have all my things in one place.

In the process of building and moving I've gotten pretty banged up. Along with the boating bruises I have a blood blister and marks up and down my arms and legs. It's how I know I'm working hard I suppose.

More to come on the progress, but right now my goodies are beckoning me.

Labor of Love

That's Nate. I got him from Debbie. He's a general handy man who works out of his bicycle. He has this cart with a big rubber bin that houses all his tools and supplies. He peddles from job to job and is competent and fast. I love Portland for people like Nate. He wired the Airstream and put a box to plug it into at the back of the garage so when it's moved it can be plugged in and powered up, So exciting! Scheduled move date is the 14th of September or something like that. I have more pressing things to think about, it's on the calendar...

Right now I'm building. I'm making space in the garage. Cutting it up into three sections. An office, a closet, and a shop. I've had my house for about five years and have been away for most of that time. Since I'm home things are changing. The kitchen was finished earlier this year. Finally I had the floor done so I could put the kick plates under the cabinets. Finished it looks pretty and I wonder why it took so long to do this. I suppose it has something to do with money and the fact of living in NY. One of my favorite things was to hire someone to do a project on my house while I was away. I'd come home sometime later to check things out a feel instant relief that I didn't have to install the cedar shake or deal with the roofing contractors or... I'm grateful for the people that helped make it happen and the money I had to have it done.

My walls are janky and weird, but with sheetrock you'll never know the difference. Paulie helped me one day and Felice and Dfox put some labor in too. I decided I need to move the door tomorrow, so I'll do some cutting and tearing out and cutting and fitting together and be done with it. It will work and it will be useful. And I will have a tiny office with a window that overlooks the garden and Felice will have a place for her shoes. That makes me happy and proud.

The moving containers come tomorrow. Five of them. I'm pretty positive that we're in okay shape to receive the merchandise, but we have several things to finish up before the mover dudes come to unload them on Saturday morning. I'll complete the closet, we'll move furniture out of the house and add shelves and generally organize where we have not. The storage place is rented and the overflow will live there until we figure out how to make the house big enough for two.

12 hours yesterday. Laboring with sheetrock, tape and mud. I feel proud of the work and happy to do it. I'm in a hurry not only because the containers come tomorrow but because on Monday afternoon I'm having surgery on my right hand. I have been waiting for this for years and will have the left had done in about three weeks. I have carpel tunnel from throwing pots, blowing glass and exacerbated by years of labor and general wear and tear. I'm excited to have my strength and agility back. It's been longer than I care to admit that I have been kept awake at night by numbness. I'll be able to ride my motorcycle and use tools without having to power through or try to shake out the numbness. I got to the surgeon after several months of chiropractic, acupuncture and physical therapy for a recent problem with my wrist. Turns out the MRI shows severe tendinitis causing that pain. The Doc thinks it can heal with the steroid shot he squirted in a few days ago. We'll see if it works but if not he'll go in when he does the carpel tunnel surgery on my left hand and "scrape it out". I've never been so grossed out and excited at the same time (well, that's probably not true, but this is a different post).

So, I'm busy. I'm working hard and learning and teaching and mostly enjoying the process. We'll settle in and finally all my things will be in one city, a joy I have not known for far too long. I'll set up my wood shop and pick up my welding equipment from my old girlfriend's house where it has been for years. I'll make things, useful and not, pretty and experimental, and maybe once again I'll feel like an artist.

How great will that be?!

Mascochist's nose job

Yesterday was a fantastic day on the mighty Columbia River. Felice wanted a fast boat for her birthday so we got this hot machine that chewed up gas and gave us all a big fat hard-on. Along with the boat we got a tow package that included this big yellow and black blow up dog bone thing. Why in the shape of a dog bone, I have no idea?

We made a thermos of vodka lemon and soda cocktails and had great food, nasturtium nori rolls, fresh basil and garden tomato with mozzarella cheap beer and other fantastic treats. After racing around and bouncing into each other we anchored for snacks and enjoyed the solitude of the big open river.

Then it was time to rock-n-roll. Felice jumped out first and I pulled her along the river on the dog bone float watching her slap the water and the yellow gortex bone. She was laughing hysterically and fully enjoying herself. Next I was on the bone and felt a little afraid of Felice getting retribution for how I bounced her across the river. Thumbs up and we're off! More, I want more speed so thumbs up again and we take off faster and faster. Suddenly there is water from the boat spraying me so I just close my eyes and hold on until I get thrown bounce and sink a bit. Yes, I'm wearing a life vest and that keeps me afloat. My endorphins are roaring and I just want to go again! They pull around and pick me up and we're off again. I'm holding on tight because I want to just keep going fast. The water is rushing into me and I just relax and focus on my arms holding me tight on the big float. My face smashes into the bone and I feel the pain and shock of the crunch. Nice. I keep holding on and reposition my face to either keep from smashing my nose again, or maybe I want to smash it. I'm so zoned out that nothing matters but the rush. After a long while I release the grips and feel the weight of my body in the water. When the boat reaches me Tyler comments on how good my nose looks. Charlz asks if I'm bleeding. I'm so buzzed I can't feel my nose and don't care much about it. They help me in the boat and I thank the driver with a kiss. Good job, so much fun.

Today I'm a mess. My body feels like hell and my glasses hurt my nose. But I wouldn't change it for anything.

end of an era

Early this morning I loaded up a big stainless steel piece of crap I've been dragging around for a long time. It was the structural component of an installation I made in grad school many years ago. I thought I should keep it to reinstall or disassemble and use the piece for something else.

I took it along with some scrap kicking around behind my garage to Metro Recycling, put it on a cart, hauled it in and released it. I got a check for $17.07. I love the significance of that check. Selling one's art is a hard thing to do...

It feels like first light. I'm choosing to live for me right now. And, although my idea of how that looks is not always popular I am feeling strong and capable because of it. My hope is that the people in my life will be able to come on the journey with me. Even just in support of me and my authentic self. I've been coming out, over and over again and explaining myself and my passion for connection and love. Assuming it will just click and I will be understood, accepted and approved. Stamped stapled and handed back with a smile.

The garage is getting cleaned out and the Airstream is wired. Building and painting is happening and the pods that wait in Vancouver Washington are about to be delivered. My things will come, and I will make a home in this little space that was built as my bachelor pad. One bedroom, an open kitchen and living space and the only doors lead to the outside world.

I'm changing the way I live and at the same time figuring out what my true dream is. Thanks to a number of wonderful people I'm brought challenging questions and must consider them deeply. I've invited my partner into my pad and hope we can make space for our things, but more importantly our large leo selves. We look at that floor plan and discuss a bump out here and a second story there. We will make this home right for both of us but ultimately my desire is to build "family" in a way that allows love, openness and ease all the while bringing distinct happiness to each of us.

This house is ripe for renovation, and so am I.

Poppa

My dad has always sung to me. He sings me love songs from the 60’s and 70’s mostly but sometimes jazz standards from his youth.

I love it.

This weekend when I was with him, I mentioned a previous girlfriend who was visiting Seattle, she wanted to stop by to see us on her way back through to Portland. She and I had been texting the day before when she was on her way to Seattle, stuck in traffic around my dad’s exit. I joked that she should stop in to see them. Her response was really sweet. She said it would be a treat and then she reminded me of an installation I did about my dad. The piece revolved around a tin can phone with a chili powder line. One of the cans was sitting atop a ladder straining to take in my dad’s words and a little song his mother sung to him and in return he sung to us, and then his grand children and now his great grand children. It’s part of a ballad to help the little ones go to sleep. My dad started singing it immediately but stopped, feeling a little shy. My dad is anything but a shy man and resumed with little prodding.

It was sweet and flooded me with memories. The recordings I have of his voice and his songs, his family life and his history have been tucked away long ago. I still ask him the same questions in hopes of burning the answers into my brain. With a little luck I will remember his seven brother’s names. Ermine, Esa, Nick, Eli, Vincent (sometimes called Richard for reasons I still don’t understand) Jim, damn I’m missing one, and my dad John (not Juan) along with Guadalupe (Dolly) and Josephina. My dad is the oldest son alive and I can hear the pride and privilege he feels with this honor. I don’t really know my dad’s siblings, they live in the Midwest mainly and Colorado but we spent very little time with them when I was a kid. I have probably 47 cousins from his side of the family and would know one of them if I saw them on the street.

I’m at the point in my life that I want to see my family and I love them for all we’ve been through as blood relatives- but I’m thinking much more intently about chosen family and cultivating the relationships of those I want to grow old with. The community of people that know me and share mutual love for the people we are. It sounds sappy yes, but for example; I know my broster dfox will always have my back even if she must questions my desire, motivation or intellect at any given time.

After my folks divorced my dad bought a 1976 corvette stingray. Red and convertible. I remember him picking me up one time and taking me for a ride. He wanted to get it on the open road so we went to the back roads on the air force base and he cranked it up. Later when we were both smiling and not knowing what to say to one and other he started singing Me and Mrs. Jones. His voice is lovely and he can carry a tune. I remember I felt shy and happy and sad all at the same time and I was grateful my dad seemed to love me in that rare moment alone together.

Yesterday we picked corn from dad’s garden across the street from the house. My step mom, has the entire front and back yard and my dad has the big plot across the street. Big ears of corn ripen on the stalk amidst the blackberry bushes and cosmos and he proudly snaps corn from it stalk to send home to Portland. Damn, what a great time to spend with my dad. He sings me a song and hugs me big and tight.

Captain's Log 97211

Wouldn’t it be funny if I were a Trekky…

Maybe it wouldn’t be since a lot of people are, and probably even people I know. I watched that show religiously when I was a kid. I fucking loved Kirk, his commanding voice, all his women and power. The Enterprise his glory and Spock by his side, intentional, logical and cool in every move, ready to answer to Kirk’s every whim with precision not passion. Hot.

I just rode home in the trunk of a car after watching a movie on the roof of a hotel garage. The car became over full after the driver agreed to add one more person. Zelda needed to go back to work to get some baby mice to take home. She didn’t want to leave them at her job overnight and didn ’t want to transport them on the bus. Apparently a client of the place she works came in with a crazy tale of these baby mice sitting by her front door every day when she came home.. She wanted to give them to someone who would “take care of them”… My friend Zelda tells her to bring them in and she will give then a fighting chance. Having just come from my tour of duty in NY I’m rolling my eyes thinking to myself, kill them…

So a few days later this kooky lady comes to Zelda who is working the front desk of this social services place. The lady places the box on Zelda’s reception desk and before she can open the box the lady has scampered off. It’s serious how she’s describing the vintage box the mice came in, the two of them just sitting there on this white pelt when she opens the lid. Zelda is going on about how she’s going to bring them home and how serious she is about allowing them to live. Admirable yes. For sure, Felice says, we’re taking her to work to get the mice so she can bring them home.

As soon as the film is over we break away from the crowd. The trunk pops open for bags and invites me in. I was thinking I’d do a lap dance for my bro Dfox on the way home but the trunk is so appealing with the blankets from the movies. Zelda makes like she’s throwing me in but I’m hopping in willingly. The Midwesterners are a bit worried about me, but really, I have a more space than anyone else, and I’m horizontal.

I can hear the murmur in the car and have time and space to relax and take photos. I hear partying on the sidewalk outside of bars and kids on the street corners. I feel pampered in my solitude. The Lieutenant is driving and Dfox is navigating. We stop to pick up the alien beings and make our way home dropping people at their destinations. I feel the crunch of gravel beneath the tires before the trunk is opened and I climb out and find my way inside. Sorry Kirk, you got nothin’ on me.