a man in my shoes runs a light...

The place was a mess.  Relocating a business is a pain in the ass, especially when you're having to rebuild it to suit your needs.  Operating from one point, building in the other, maintaining the flow of business...it sux.

And we were only moving a few doors down, into the larger warehouse complex.  We had already sealed up the office space so that was a secure area, thank god.  The secondary roof on top of the paint and workshop was another matter, but again, aside from working in low lighting and making sure I didn't put my foot through the floor below, it really went off without any idiocy.  Amazing.

*

But then, well, it came down to the drafting board.

I'm not sure how else to call it, because it was to be a board, nearly...ya know, I have no idea how long it was.  Maybe 32 feet?  And 20 feet high?  But it is a monster.  God Bless those who never picked up their signs or paid for them, because you are forever there on the drafting board from hell.

*

But we built it. The place was wired for sound, as in, I went back a few years ago to meet up with the owner and it astounds me that so little, yet so much has changed.  From nothing, a great business was built.

*

Those early days were sketchy, even if I would never admit it in my mind.  I was too invested.  And it was never so true on this day.  Some late August day.

It was all built, everything in place, it was was just a matter of getting it all from point A to B.  But before that, we had to clean.

Cleanliness is to paint as it is to the restaurant business.  It Is God.  If your paint surface isn't clean, if it isn't clear of grit, random dust, then it's doomed to fail.

So.  My job for this particular day was to scrub the floor, inside and out, front to back, and get rid of all the debris that we had made over the past few weeks.  I shouldn't be complaining this late, but geez what a mess.  I only had one feed for the water, and one for the electric powering the radio, tuned, of course, to CD101.

Right before I started sweeping dust and grime from the finishing area around the office area a request comes over the air for some Psychedelic Furs, and a song I've never heard starts playing.

I stop pretty much everything, but keep doing it at the same time.  I'm sweeping up dust, yes, but...that chill, you know the one, where you realize that this is a moment.  A point that no matter how hard I try it will always be stuck there in that warehouse, with this song, and loving every single milisecond.

*

I'm in a mood for you...

or running away.

a deal with god

I was mowing the grass, as usual.  It was Saturday, granted it was a bit late since I usually did it on Fridays but considering how little rain there was I figured it wasn't going to hurt anything.

I just never took into account the pool effect, and how the evaporation from it made everything in the back yard grow.  Like weeds.  Not that we had weeds, but...you get the point.  The back, in regards to the front, was always green.

My sister, who did the grass from time to time, did these patterns.  Eh.  I was a good 1950's guy, straight rows, only deviate when you have to and adapt them into the row.  This was the neighborhood standard.

The back yard was always the worst.  Inside the pool area, because of the fence around it.  The small area before you reached the fence around the pool (also enclosed by a fence).  The deck that separated the small area before the pool fence but also sided a part of the fenced side of the pool.  And finally, the true, small back yard.  A peach tree in the middle, sloping down to the fenced in garden.

And it was after all that, I finally quit the mower.  I looked up and while my parents had apparently decided to have a party with their friends, I saw my dad coming down to see me.

I was leaning on one of the gate posts, pretty much not giving a crap about anything.  He stood aside the adjoining gate post, and just started talking.

*

For a few moments, time that I tend to think that my brother and sister never, ever had, I had a brief glimpse into who my dad was, where he came from, and what made him the person that I strive to be.  It wasn't some exotic story, it wasn't a hardscrabble life...it was him telling me about his own father.  He died when my dad was 16.

*

My dad talked about the vegetable garden, the multiple fruit trees that were planted.  I was picturing the back lot of my grandmother's place, where it was nothing but grass, and years before she requested having the huge tree between her house and the garage taken down.  And there were no trees, finally, on her property.  But my dad told me about how it wasn't always like that.

And I like to think that my uncle and my dad used to walk with their father, back in the early '50s, through the quarter acre that they had, picking tomatoes and peppers and maybe the random fruit that may have finally sprouted.

*

He stopped kind of abruptly, but considering the number of people that we had not only in the house but also around the pool, it was understandable.  I put the mower back in the shed, he went back to attending to the guests, and I.

I went away with a sense of loss. I had a feeling that this was probably the only time I would ever really know my father.

Don't ever give in

I am home alone and watching this amazing video.

I didn't mean to watch the entire thing, but I could not stop. Maybe it is just the mood I am in, but this is the only thing that is reaching me.

Sorry all I post these days are music videos.

I saw Bad Brains in 1988 at the old 9:30 Club. All I remember now is that it was painfully loud and I had to leave. But watching this, I am thinking I should have toughed it out. But no, seriously, it was physically painful to be in the same room while they played.

Anyway, hope all is well tonight, gentlemen.