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the rarest escapes
Apr. 17th, 2008 08:08 pmBusy week—troublesome, really. Little hang-ups, schedule's overwhelming, May 3rd is looming, more of the same old impossible newness in the ever-changing, always-shifting world of being in the midst of a career that's endlessly mutating, endlessly uncoiling loops of workplace DNA. I've never known so little about where I'm going, and still, there are plans, plots, maps to alternate realities. Tuesday, working on the museum's often-infested art brut log meditation chapel, setting a fresh log I'd just chainsawed into perfect shape, bent down, huge rusty nail, in my head. In my head. Had to maneuver to get the nail out. Head wounds bleed like crazy, like waterfalls. I dig my finger in, it's like I'm touching brain. I jump up and run for it, trailing blood everywhere, blood in my eyes, everywhere. First work-related hospital visit ever, tetanus shot, amazingly, no bandage—something about my clotting ability and scalp wounds. At least I'm a prodigy in something.
So I lay it out. I've got two comp days, rapidly heading towards their expiration date.
Fuck 'em. I'm taking off in mid-week, two days, West Virginia, my place—the Blue Moon.
The irony: I go there to work, in essentially the same roles as I get paid to do back home.
I fixed a broken pipe and circumvented a stolen one. Re-wired stolen wires to get my well pump and hot water heater running again, cleaned the kitchen and the stove, made a lot of tea with loose leaves, like it's supposed to be, had some raging rare burgers seasoned perfectly, cut some firewood, rigged up some interim steps to the outhouse/woodshed, ran to the tracks with a borrowed video camera to catch the trains coming by. There aren't so many on a weekday, but I've never seen a VRE train there before, and lots of shipping containers from China rolled past.
Late night, light's golden, dog's snoozing, buddy's cleaning up from dinner, Pluramon churning on the boombox, pine incense smoldering, fire's burning perfectly in the gentle wafting drift of the ceiling fan. I will sleep well.
I need to take my escapes when I can. The weekend will be complicated.
Today, though, the first hot shower up there in a long time. Glorious.
Note to me…
So I lay it out. I've got two comp days, rapidly heading towards their expiration date.
Fuck 'em. I'm taking off in mid-week, two days, West Virginia, my place—the Blue Moon.
The irony: I go there to work, in essentially the same roles as I get paid to do back home.
I fixed a broken pipe and circumvented a stolen one. Re-wired stolen wires to get my well pump and hot water heater running again, cleaned the kitchen and the stove, made a lot of tea with loose leaves, like it's supposed to be, had some raging rare burgers seasoned perfectly, cut some firewood, rigged up some interim steps to the outhouse/woodshed, ran to the tracks with a borrowed video camera to catch the trains coming by. There aren't so many on a weekday, but I've never seen a VRE train there before, and lots of shipping containers from China rolled past.
Late night, light's golden, dog's snoozing, buddy's cleaning up from dinner, Pluramon churning on the boombox, pine incense smoldering, fire's burning perfectly in the gentle wafting drift of the ceiling fan. I will sleep well.
I need to take my escapes when I can. The weekend will be complicated.
Today, though, the first hot shower up there in a long time. Glorious.
Note to me…
