Thursday, May 15, 2008

My dad used to have this saying, “I used to complain about having no shoes till I met the man with no feet”

It is a pretty common site around the Abbey, small clusters of caravans parked in the shelter of the elevated highway that surrounds our building. Refugees from “Bush’s America”, men too beaten down with world worn lines on their faces, and the occasional family. About every 6 months it usually starts with a single trailer, then over time a few more will arrive. Aside from the occasional stranger in the hallways we seem to get along pretty well, a “We are all trying to survive so you don’t mess with us and we won’t mess with you” sort of policy I guess. Inevitably the small cluster will grow into quite an assortment of vehicles, tents and in the most recent cycle an open air workshop where folks were recycling crap steel all makes for some pretty colorful neighbors. At that point Seattle’s finest will intercede and force them all to move along and find a new, temporary refuge to call home.

Thing is, some of these rigs barley made it here under their own power and moving, even a few blocks down the road to the next open spot under the highway, is a dicey option. Last night, some poor soul in a desperate attempt to get his home moved tried to get the engine started by injecting either into the carburetor (a time honored hillbilly trick that I have resorted to in more desperate days myself) and well here you can see the results.

While the capitalist in me says, "better him than me" and the Darwinian in me says, "No shit Sherlock, what did you think was gonna happen" the human in me can't help but say, "What right do I have to complain about my tough week?"

It is has got to be hard enough being an economic nomad, the sum contents of your worldly worth stuffed into a aging RV. Then to have said RV reduced to a burnt out shell in a matter of minutes…

Today I was going to write about how busy I am, about how even with out gearing up for a show I'm still buried, complaining about the delays in getting stock and why the hell folks can't seem to say thank you... fuck that. My life is pretty damned fantastic, faults and all.

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