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April 27, 2005



I'm jealous, having aspirations to do stuff like this, but missing the essential 3rd mind and dwelling on the outside-ness of my own head. But it's still early and after may I may begin to accumulate things again.

T-bone is moving out in june and i'm thinking of staying put until I can find the right kind of studio type space - something with exposed brick or an overhead garage door where I can live and create and do business.

In San Diego right now, helping skip and madge get all packed up. The kids are already up north with their grandparents. It is a strange experience. This, I think, is the last trip with our Dad. It is uncomfortable and trying; as he doesn't function much outside the confines of tiny mormon towns and with my mother to do things for him. It is like my father has turned into some kind of an infant. I put in juice-box straws for him, open packages of string cheese, wipe food off of his face. He is an old old man now, trying, but not succeeding in leading the way any more: attempting to be an agent of motion in this trip with his sons, but sadly realizing that he can barely even be a passenger. I battle with the strangeness at times feeling estranged and cheated.

He told me a story of how when I was a little boy, we were getting some tractor parts from the city. I saw a boat somewhere and asked him 'can we get a boat?'. He chuckled and said 'what would we do with a boat?'. I answered 'Well, we could go boating." I must have been 6 or 7.

He says now that he wishes that we'd played more. We never played at all. Now he says that no old man ever wishes he worked more, but knowing him, I don't think he comprehends the opposite. Even now he is busy cleaning windows with his tremors and slow sloth movements. Incapable of communicating without filtering it through church or the protestant work ethic. Its not that I don't love him on some level, but my circle and his have very little overlap - in the V
enn sense. I feel like Mersaud in The Outsider when he attends his mother's funeral and shows little emotion because he feels little emotion and the expediency overshadows the pomp and circumstance: the crying and gnashing of teeth.

It will be great to have Skip and Madge back home and I'm glad to have been able to help them.
I have also come to a few other conclusions:
1) the only truly nice thing about san diego is the weather. This place is going to burn sometime. It is the pinnacle of conspicuous consumption all huddling jealously underneath the sky-ripping sounds of jet fighters and helicopters. No money for healthcare, no money for the poor, but plenty of money to send war machines up at all hours of every day.
It feels on the verge of collapse. Great will be the fall thereof.

Learned a few things
2) I am seperate from everything that is not part of me, indifferent to many things, lacking only a few small liberties by which the rest will come.
3) I'll never live in america again
4) I'm probably the most normal one in my family - as far as being able to adapt and live semi-autonomously from systems of crutches, but this also disposes one to lonliness and cynicism
5) I love a good long roadtrip alone, but my preference is to have one close friend with me, or maybe just my brother and his little family.
6) Butte MT and Twin Falls ID are powerful places.
7) I hate the awful vibrations of Las Vegas.

One more day in San Diego.
Three days of driving
I feel I could drive forever in morning
At night I feel I could sleep forever.

Quitzas, Quitzas, Quitzas.

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