I think the thing that made me come here to write something down tonight was me sitting me here in my den, relaxing. Sitting here in my fine leather chair in the den looking at my bookshelves. They’ve been the same for years and tonight I noticed they are in complete disarray. I don’t know that I’ll do anything about it anytime soon, but the paperbacks are on shelves that are way too tall and the taller books are all cramped. It doesn’t look right. It doesn’t sit right with me, it’s bothersome now that I’ve taken notice. One day I’m going to fix the whole thing and do some alphabetical shit. Right now they are simply categorized into sections like Poetry, Fiction, Shit I Haven’t Read Yet and Books People Sent Me To Read and then smaller things like Native American Wisdom or Misc.
Yesterday I noticed a long part of deer leg stuck in my mulch pile. Maggots and shit were on it. I just left it.
I heard a story about this knife maker that drove a combine all day. Just drove up and down the rows before air conditioning was put in combines. He said he would think of beautiful things like his wife or a beautiful woman or car he’d seen and make little sketches of those things and try to create knives that reminded him of the beauty he’d witnessed in the blowing grains of wheat. Late in the night he’d go and build it.
I also heard that the movie Car Wash was never going to be made unless Richard Pryor agreed to be in the film. Richard played tennis every morning at 7am.
I had to drive out into the country today about 45 minutes for work and I had to seriously fake it. I wasn’t into it, but there’s this 6 foot 7 guy I met a few cities back, maybe in San Diego or Palm Springs, CA who seems to think I’m some type of mentor. He likes to copy my moves at trade shows and I find it very funny. I keep telling him that one day he’ll have to give me a job in trade for all the little tricks I’m teaching him. He says that he’ll never be higher than me but I always say, “I’m happy where I am. I’m never moving any higher in the ranks than where I am.” 6 foot 7 guys are interesting.
When I open the front door a great wind blows in. So far into the house it moves the fresh, canary yellow tulips on the dining room table. I somehow relate this to my ability to carry around mounds of guilt that don’t belong to me. In fact, I must find it somehow inspiring to pile guilt onto myself in order to keep moving.
I have a 7 year old ivy plant that had to be moved recently. It was in a good place for the said ivy, but it was in a bad place for our 18 month old. For the first time, in a long time, the ivy is in transition and out of place.
I guess it was in 2007 or so that I initially became sad. Mostly due to my ability to forecast with info I’ve gathered from the elders I’ve listened to. But it wasn’t a sadness that you wake up with, but that long sort. I remember it as it was underlying. Like a bit of a base. I made an incorrect assumption that it could be music that would keep everyone around, but it was my fault that I quickly grew tired of it. I wasn’t that interested or I lost interest in it as I matured. And I still chide myself on my lack of maturity. Nothing will ever make it like it was and I’m glad with that as I move forward and am most interested in the future. As with most people I work to keep my past behind me. Never have I been most interested in the present, being present in the present and continuing to build, but I decided to focus on something older than even the song. The ability to cut and the ability to share.
I think that’s a pretty good song.