So Liam gave me his Yamaha XJ400. This is what the bike would look like new.
And this is what mine looked like just before the hour long ride home. We were going at 55mph and got a lot of awesome looks on the highway. 3 people took pictures of us. It was a good time.
I have taped the seat with Gorilla tape. It shouldn't take too long to put the bike back together. Once that's done I'll have to clean up the mufflers a bit, charge the battery, and paint over the rusty spots with some black paint for the sake of inspection. The bike needs a chain, a new sprocket installed up front, and I forget what else... oil!
Anyways, thats the trick.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
^ Thats my new computer desktop. I'm a geek at heart. It's also an awesome picture. Star Trek: The Voyage Home is one of my earliest memories. I think I saw it in the theater when it came out with dad, but I was only 2 years old when it came out.
Today should be quite interesting. An old friend Dan is heading to the house around 11am, he lives right down the street - graduated from my old high school last year. He is more of a friend of Liam, which is where we are headed later on. The plan for the day is to drive up to Liam's in my 86 Olds sedan, and collect the 82 Yamaha XS400 - and probably collect Liam as well. I am not yet sure on Liam - I am hoping that he will come back to Worcester with us, but he has always been somewhat unpredictable. But he's a great friend.
I'm feeling pretty hammered, and I think today might land me in bed for a month - but its a free bike and a chance to see some friends. I've been looking forward to today for over a month. We'll see what happens.
Monday is apparently a large gathering of friends (of all ages) at the local smoke shop. It started out as just myself and an old school councelor and its expanded to guys my age, his age, and everyone in between.
[QUOTE]No offense to the bi-sexuals out there. But my view on it is 'Bi now, gay later' simply based on a number of friends who have come out as bi-sexual but never been with a girl since.[/QUOTE]
I do take offense. Have you ever noticed that you never get anything non offensive following that statement. It's like saying "With all due Respect" and then you follow with something disrespectful.
I have known that I am bisexual for going on 14 years. I have yet to see that "gay later" that you speak of. I am still as turned on by women as I was when I was figuring out that I liked girls (had my first real crush in the 4th grade). Technically I'm more turned on by them because I have experience the incredible feelings and passion you can have with a woman in bed.
But I fall in love with guys, I like them for their personalities, I like their bodies, I like their minds, I like that fact that... I like everything about them.
I AM bisexual. 14 years of unwavering - no doubts.
You imply that somehow one day I'm going to wake up and not be turned on by women? I'm 25, its not a phase, its not confusion, its what I am.
It's insulting and offensive - especially from someone who will be judged the same way by straights who don't understand and think that you're just confused, or that you are going through a phase, that one day you'll turn straight. And they back that argument with examples of people who have "turned straight" with the help of organized religion *spits* and or sheer willpower.
Well those people are probably still gay. The people you see might have thought it was easier to claim Bi and then as their friends become comfortable -- then tell the truth.
Don't judge me and the others here who really are Bisexual by some collection of people you know. I don't judge You by my experiences with other forum members. You can only judge individuals as individuals.
Thats not a rant. That's my reaction to you telling me that I am pretending to be something I'm not - or that somehow I'm in a phase. *laughs* It's just fucking Ignorant.
Ok so we'll cover the Yamaha first. I have had dozens of ideas on how to make her look better - when she was Liam's I was brainstorming for him, now I have been brainstorming for me. The bike looks like this:
One of my ideas when it was Liam's was to make use of my old Enfield frame plus the spare Sportster tank I have:
Then after it became mine I found I had a shot at a BSA gastank from the early 70s, which if it fits could in theory look something like this if I get an old bench seat as well: THAT is a look I quite like! But the chances due to the frame design are slim.
Now on Ebay late last night I found new fiberglass Manx replica tanks that are "Universal" fit - now I almost NEVER trust universal anything. BUT then I found a stock XS400 tank for sale, and it showed an underside pic, so I did a compare of the tanks (as well as another the company sells which is show on the right):
They also have measurements available. SO if it checks out. Well the tank would be interchangeable between the Norton featherbed frame and the Yam. So its cost worthy. So that frame plus old school Manx style seats the same company sells, a little 1/4 fairing, and some replica Lucas turnsignals and the XS would eventually go from ugly American knock off bastard to cafe racer - and I would treat and ride it as such.
Anyways, as to the Enfield question.
I know that the current crank has been through minor trauma. I know it will be ok for now, but eventually needs rebuilt or replaced. Now I don't know what I want to do. Do I want to mod the engine to get some real HP? Its to be a poor man's ES2 really. A Norton 500cc single which I cant afford - so I'm making one hahaha.
I know that the US importer offers a $700ish crank rebuild that will give the Indian Crank new life, and is promised to stand up to 6000rpm. Now.. $1200ish will get you a European Crank. But do I NEED a European crank? I know you can get a stroked crank for about $1500. But that's absurd. I have the XS400 if I want real HP (and yes for me real HP is about 50, I just have never seen the applicable need for having 100+ HP. I have toured the country now by motorcycle alone, plan to again, I have ridden new ducatis and 73 Triumphs, and Enfields, Guzzis, Jap bikes new and old... I'm happy with 50HP)
So what do I want to do with the Enfield engine? Well I want to get the Indian Crank rebuilt with the roller bearing and such. I want to slowly changed out (from the bottom up) all the Indian made parts for English or European made parts. She already has a new piston and alloy barrel from the last engine.
I also have a Compression Release Valve off a Harley which I have been working to fit - beats the stock setup
Christmas is approaching - and as it approaches my desire to see the new crank cases (again) and how they fit in the Norton Chassis (first time) with the AMC gearbox and the Norton primary covers is driving me crazy.
See I know that it all works with the oil tank removed from the cases - that's what I have for cases now. So the question is - is the oil tank too deep for the gearbox? Technically it can't be. The frame has plenty of room, but - and there is always a but - if I can't use the primary cases that I have, then I'd have to fashion new cases, deal with the Norton & Enfield difference in clutch/drive, and either the new cases have to hold oil or I have to invest in a belt drive + parts.
SO... If The Norton gearbox won't line up, then what I have to do for cost and time is get an Enfield gearbox and go at it raw - now I can get an Enfield clutch new for $90. Do I want a new 5 speed gearbox? Or find a used 4 speed? I would prefer the AMC gearbox, but we'll see what happens.
I made a very general video on Youtube a few days ago. I don't expect you to watch me ramble for 10 minutes, though here it is:
What I do want to share is what I said at the end of the video, which was just as I was talking - the clearest example of my situation: "But in any event I'm not complaining so much, as I'm tired of saying "Oh well, I'm fine" as I'm crumpling in a corner. And people look at you like you're complaining or you're trying to get attention. Because you're in pain all the time, and its not that, its just... You have to talk about it, if you're not talking about it uh it it wears you down and you get depressed. So you got to be vocal about the fact that you uh feel like you're dying all the time, even though you're not dying. And I'm twenty five, and I live in my mother's basement. And I can't move, and I can't go to school, and I'm waiting on disability - and I mean what what else can I do? What else do I have to do? I can't... I can't work with my hands much any more, I can barely read books, I can barely write and I used to write all the time, and I can't write - and I can't draw... and and like what the hell... am I supposed to do?
What am I supposed to do? So I just do this. I just exist. It's all I've got left. So umm that's it. This is almost ten minutes and I'm going to stop this, and I'll upload it later."
I have my old Russian pocket watch on my lap, a Moinja which has served me through all of Saint John's and many other adventures of life, college, cross country treks, all sorts of things, this watch has traveled as my time piece. Its ugly and its loud, and its battered, but oh what a watch it is for $50 I got an 18 jewel mechanical movement that will keep time until I am an old old man.
You may remember we are planning to move. We found a decent duplex for sale, local, god knows if it will still be for sale later on, but here's the size comparison between the two:
That's from the top (obviously) so we would be cutting down on heating a bit. Mom would have one half of the house and I would have the other. I believe there are fireplaces for both sides which is nice - I love fires. I can't wait to have an apartment again, a place all my own - even if it is not really "mine" as in earned and paid for by myself - it is still, well it is still my own.
Then there is the Norton Enfield project which I wrote about, I showed a mock up of it here:
Well it is on its way:
Those are of course the wrong cases, but what can I say about that? I have the new ones in a box thats wrapped under the Christmas tree so not until the 25th will I know just what is going on in that department. Meaning - I won't know if I can use the gearbox I want to use with the primary cases I have - or if I will have to buy a Enfield gearbox and put together a full Enfield engine in the Norton chassis. But at LEAST there is progress!!!!!
This last picture is a gift of a dear dear friend of mine who has given me his old motorcycle:
A Yamaha XS400 - which makes 45HP if running right, SOMETHING to be said about that! It needs a few things, but that's not a bad deal! I'm going to sell the GS550 as a parts bike and give my friend half of what ever I get for it.
Anyways, more later.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Today I write, or is it now. Now I write? I am in the mood to write and to think. It's more rare these days that I get to a blog - because my hands hurt all the time.
I find that I am on the verge of tears. It's not the pain so much, I can handle that - I almost never cry over the pain anymore, not even when its complete agony, which unfortunately is often. No no, the tears are for the fog that once was my mind.
I can think still, the Gabapentin - it's not like the narcotics, it leaves some of my mind alone, perhaps most of it. But I am tired, I am weary. Even when I sleep well, even then my mind is often worn out. Sometimes, sometimes I slur a bit or I mix up the words, or there is a stutter.
Last week was solid. On a Thur I went up to Keene and saw a theater production held by a good friend of mine - he and some others converted a barn into a college theater. The show was written by a student - and was absolutely excellent, it was called "Dead Flags" and about the end of the world, and a group of survivors rediscovering their humanity. The drive to Keene was hard, and the drive home was harder. But it was worth it.
Friday was a trip out to New Braintree to cut down a Christmas tree with mom. We took the Olds, it was a bit of fun mixed with some yelling - she's tired and I'm hammered. But we get along good. Been going to that same place for 10 years. I will forever go there, as long as it's open. I have so many happy memories of going with Dad, or with my brother, or by myself. Still, it was hard on the body, especially after the trip the day before.
Saturday I stretched myself even farther. I went up to UNH to meet up with my close friend Liam. I think the world of that boy, and hadn't seen him since before Summer. We met up so he could go an look at a motorcycle. A 1989 Suzuki GS500 - lovely machine, cheap, I'm happy to say that Liam is getting it. It fits him. It needs a center stand, something I will eventually provide him with. After checking out the bike we were heading back to his bicycle which was at the post office and got a call from my friend Jon who is a Nuclear Design Engineer with Westinghouse. So instead we went up to get a tour of the shops where they build power plants, and got some awesome explanations of how stuff works. My father would have been giddy as a schoolboy in that shop - bursting with questions - it humbled me, reminded me of how much I miss him.
Sunday, a day when I could barely move, Jon came down to Worcester as the new forks for the Harley had arrived. He also brought his welding rig to make new exhausts for my Suzuki GS550. It turns out they sent us the wrong forks, and it turned out that I'd need to get exhausts off of Ebay. But we did manage to get some sanding and painting done, now all the tinware for the Harley except the oil tank is a flat shit brown. Our little joke for all the weekend warriors - which Jon certainly is not one. Jon would leave tomorrow for the west coast on a '74 Sportster that will shake out your fillings - if he had time. He doesn't - he's back to Korea after Christmas to finish a plant or two. Crazyness. Brent showed up during the night and he and Jon hung me another cabinet. Good friends.
I got the Norton frame down in the basement and wrestled the Enfield engine into it along with the gearbox. It'll work.
Right now, as I type this my eyes are heavy, my brain feels all fucked up. My chest hurts, it hurts a LOT, almost keeled over earlier. My right leg is throbbing down to my foot which I can't feel, yet there are sharp pains shooting up my leg from that spot. My hands hurt, my shoulders, a digging piercing pain behind my right shoulder blade, my head is heavy. And yet my left leg - except for my big toe is Fine. Its like a giant weight of air is pressing down on me, heavy as fuck. Crushing the life out of me.
I don't enjoy this. It brings tears to my eyes. Jon is a Nuclear Design Engineer, Brent is a Helicopter Pilot, Steve is working at a high school and has plans to become a History teacher, Mike and Al are almost pharmasists. Ian's a dentist. Liam is going to have a degree that sets him up to run a camp or own a rafting company or what ever. Gary has built a theater, and is going to make it.
I could have done so much. I could have been a teacher right now. I could have been an engineer. I could have been a techie in the theater. I could have been working the last 3 years as a Chef out of one of the best Culinary Schools in the world.
What could have been is what hurts the most. I lay here and sometimes can't help but wonder how it should have worked out. Instead I lay here most of my days, in agony. Waiting for Disability to go through. Holding the debt collectors at bay. There are things people say, they say you have this great chance at SSI - and then you never hear back from them. The worst part is I don't even know how to get ahold of most of these people. I'm so scattered. I can focus sometimes for short stints of time. I'll focus when I can. I feel like I am prison. These walls the close around me and strangle me.
I'm in so much pain right now. People think you're complaining or seeking attention. I have spent Years saying "No, I'm fine" as I crumple in the corner - or keep working until I fail. They look at you like you're a failure or a freak. "Why does he still hang out around his old high school?" "Why doesn't he move on?" They see the outside - they see the shell. I hate the judgements. I hate the pain. I hate being trapped.
Friends will talk about how much they hate not being able to work, how crazy it would make them if they couldn't work on things. I can't stand this - but what choice do I have. I'm in limbo. I'm in purgetory.
I havent been able to take a bath in over a week, and I can't remember my last shower. The water from a shower beats down on you, and physical contact causes pain. Soaking in the tub helps - but getting in and out.
I'm crying now.
God I hate this. What makes me happy? Friends & motorcycles.
I have good friends. Feel like I'm going to puke. I have motorcycles. I'm getting a new one. New as in 1982. It was Liam's - it needs sprockets - which he has, a chain - which he has - and tires which he doesn't. It runs, it weighs under 400 pounds, makes 45HP. Mainly it runs and is complete - has a clear title.
The GS550 needs mufflers, the carbs need set up better, might need electrical, needs turnsignals, needs a bunch of random work.. I just don't have the money or the energy. I JUST want a bike on the road when the snow melts. So Liam is giving me the XS400 for free. Despite it being "Free" I am giving Liam half of what ever I get for the GS550. I think I can get $200 for it. For someone who has another $250 and a body that works it'd make a good bike.
Now any money I come by after the tires are had, can go into life and the Enfield/Norton.
Anyways, anyone who read this, I bow to you. I'm done for now. My left foot just woke up and hurts enough to bring tears. I have to go see Alley today - my councelor for pain management - and just SOMEONE to talk to. I also have to get to the Owl Shop and grab some more tobacco.
What is Faith? a strong belief in a supernatural power or powers that control human destiny; "he lost his faith but not his morality" And what is Morality? concern with the distinction between good and evil or right and wrong; right or good conduct
Can they be explained away in such simple words? Really?
I'm not so sure. I flunked Social Justice and Moral Growth by the way. It was a good class - Ben Lizotte was out teacher - he really made us think about things - but I just wasn't into homework or studying at that time in my life.
I don't think I can agree with the above definition of Faith.
To me Faith is something that can be touched, can be damaged, it is not necessarily strong - sometimes it hangs on by a thread. Supernatural? Perhaps, or maybe they are natural powers. The Druids for example basically worshiped Nature.
My faith is in God, or Gods - I worshiped Poseidon for a while, and I worshiped Nature for a while. Poseidon is the God of the Sea.
I used to get a kick out of the Christians who would make fun of the Greek Gods, and then go worship a single man who walked on water and turned blood into wine.
But I've read the Bible. The core of that religion is Good - it's strong.
But why do faith and religion have to go hand in hand these days? Why do we have to say "He's a good Christian" which means that he what? Goes to church every sunday? Helps the poor? Follows this code?
My great grandmother went to church every day of the week except Sunday. Sunday is for the tourists she would say. I have her rosary beads in the drawer next to me. I have a cross that was left to her by a nun. Serious mojo.
Do I think that when my father died he simply vanished from all that was? No, I can't believe that - and it leaves too many things that happened before and after unexplained.
Do I hope the pain will someday go away? or do I have Faith.
I don't know. I hope, and I have faith.
I apologize for the jumble and one liners. It's the medications. There was a time when I could have written pages about this, in nice neat, well thought out paragraphs. Now writing is like drawing with crayons.
I became a thin blue flame Polished on a mountain range And over hills and fields I flew Wrapped up in a royal blue I flew over Royal City last night A bullfighter on the horns of a new moon¹s light Caesar¹s ghost I saw the war-time tides The prince of Denmark¹s father still and quiet And the whole world was looking to get drowned Trees were a fist shaking themselves at the clouds I looked over curtains and it was then that I knew Only a full house gonna make it through
I became a thin blue wire That held the world above the fire And so it was I saw behind Heaven¹s just a thin blue line If God¹s up there he¹s in a cold dark room The heavenly host are just the cold dark moons He bent down and made the world in seven days And ever since he¹s been a¹walking away Mixing with nitrogen in lonely holes Where neither seraphim or raindrops go I see an old man wandering the halls alone Only a full house gonna make a home
I became a thin blue stream The smoke between asleep and dreams And in that clear blue undertow I saw Royal City far below Borders soft with refugees Streets a¹swimming with amputees It¹s a Bible or a bullet they put over your heart It¹s getting harder and harder to tell them apart Days are nights and the nights are long Beating hearts blossom into walking bombs And those still looking in the clear blue sky for a sign Get missiles from so high they might as well be divine Now the wolves are howling at our door Singing bout vengeance like it¹s the joy of the Lord Bringing justice to the enemies not the other way round They¹re guilty when killed and they¹re killed where they¹re found If what¹s loosed on earth will be loosed up on high It¹s a Hell of a Heaven we must go to when we die Where even Laurel begs Hardy for vengeance please The fat man is crying on his hands and his knees Back in the peacetime he caught roses on the stage Now he twists indecision takes bourbon for rage Lead pellets peppering aluminum Halcyon, laudanum and Opium Sings kiss thee hardy this poisoned cup His winding sheet is busy winding up In darkness he looks for the light that has died But you need faith for the same reasons that it¹s so hard to find And this whole thing is headed for a terrible wreck And like good tragedy that¹s what we expect
At night I make plans for a city laid down Like the hips of a girl on the spring covered ground Spirals and capitals like the twist of a script Streets named for heroes that could almost exist The fruit trees of Eden and the gardens that seem To float like the smoke from a lithium dream Cedar trees growing in the cool of the squares The young women walking in the portals of prayer And the future glass buildings and the past an address And the weddings in pollen and the wine bottomless And all wrongs forgotten and all vengeance made right The suffering verbs put to sleep in the night The future descending like a bright chandelier And the world just beginning and the guests in good cheer In Royal City I fell into a trance Oh it¹s hell to believe there ain¹t a hell of a chance
I woke beneath a clear blue sky The sun a shout the breeze a sigh My old hometown and the streets I knew Were wrapped up in a royal blue I heard my friends laughing out across the fields The girls in the gloaming and the birds on the wheel The raw smell of horses and the warm smell of hay Cicadas electric in the heat of the day A run of Three Sisters and the flush of the land And the lake was a diamond in the valley¹s hand The straight of the highway and the scattered out hearts They were coming together they pulling apart And angels everywhere were in my midst In the ones that I loved in the ones that I kissed I wondered what it was I¹d been looking for up above Heaven is so big there ain¹t no need to look up So I stopped looking for royal cities in the air Only a full house gonna have a prayer
^ That episode features Patrick Stewart who was the star of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Handles gays to an extent - its comedy, but the greatest kick is watching Stewart play that role, and watching Niles - the actor who plays him actually IS gay - which is hilarious.
I have to get a haircut soon, maybe Monday. Not sure yet.
On the 10th I am going up to New Hampshire to see a theater production put on by my friend Gary - or at least he helped build the theater (its his baby) that it's being put on in. I'm sort of living vicariously through Gary as he is DOING all those things that I have dreamed of.
So my birthday slowly approaches, I'll be 26 in January. Not a scary thought so much as wow, I'm still alive. So many years of contemplating suicide, and even attempting it a couple of times - once with a gun, and once with the pills. The gun didn't go off, which is in hindsight good. The pills Really fucked me up. It was first promising Dad I'd not kill myself when I was 19 after a LONG conversation - and then having Sam die in my arms that changed the idea of suicide from the final solution - which it IS - to.. well to something that causes SO much pain to those who love you. I am not sure what will have to happen to me now for me to kill myself.
So anyways I like most people had been contemplating what I want for my birthday. A tattoo, some random motorcycle part that I need, who knows... who knew. Then one day I was showing mom a Pipe website - which she had brought up. Mom doesn't mind that I smoke. She knows why I smoke, she agrees with why I smoke. Tobacco for those of you who *points* "Pothead!" No - not at all, don't touch the stuff.
So we're browsing the site, and I see it! I see the most beautiful and glorious pipe I have ever seen. A English Racing Green, Peterson Pipe - made in Dublin. I have NEVER seen anything like this before. It is like when I discovered vinyl records that had artwork on them. I saw it and I said "Mom, I know what I want for my Birthday" and she saw it and said "Yeah" and I told her we had to order it now - no way of knowing how many they had. We did - and turns out it was the only one they had in stock. It is possible that I will be one of maybe 20 people in the entire country who will be smoking THIS pipe.
Then on the other side of my passions... we have motorcycles. In particular my last great attempt at Dad's Norton - to which you might know I intend to install my 500cc Enfield engine, which I have been working on. I made this picture yesterday to show how it should look. Thats just a great side view shot I found of an Atlas - but that is MY engine with my primary covers from the Norton - from Dad's Norton.
Showing just how she'll sit, and just where the battery will be, and the carburetor - as well as the size, and what will vanish under the tank. No clutter, only love and attention.
I asked a favor of my friend Jon, I don't know if he'll go through with it - if not I'll ask Liam. I need a friend, a local friend with a good Ebay and Paypal account (mine are both in the tank) to make a $100 purchase for me, and I'll pay them back in cash. There is a part I need for this engine that is only available in two places - India for $70 + $25 S&H, or England for $350 + $30 S&H. It is the full distributor which is basically the Ignition for the motorcycle. With that all I'll need is a stator for the Alternator, the Boyer Power Box I already have - and then I have a fully working electrical system. So with all of that, I need new piston rings, a few nuts and bolts, I have a wire harness and exhaust for it. I'll need to make engine plates. I'll need to get a primary drive and a clutch. Then I have a fully running engine - I have a carburetor for it.
Once I have a fully running engine, I put it into the Norton chassis, add fork oil, link up the rear wheel, and well... I have a motorcycle. I have a Poor man's Norton ES2 - which was Norton's 500cc single.
The bike is not GREEN in the sense of pollution though it pumps out FAR less than most cars from mid 90s back, but it IS fuel efficiant, I will get 70+ Miles per Gallon on regular fuel.
Thats with an engine of 1955 design, and a chassis built in 1967.
Now you tell me something. You tell me what we should be doing about Global Warming? What should we be doing?
I think all of this buying new GREEN products is Bullshit. We have Enough vehicles and motorcycles from back in the day that can be adapted using parts we already have to run better. The world and Society is fucking all of this up by thinking backwards.
We build and we build and we build, and we buy and we buy and we buy. Every new product that rolls off the line is making a footprint. Leaving its mark. If you want to be GREEN you should be doing with what we already have.
Buy old cars, buy old houses, ride old motorcycles, buy old books or read new books online. Older stereo equipment that is already here that sounds just as good as much of the new shit. Wear old clothes that are already here. Old furniture. Old blankets.
Do what ever you can to keep your footprint on this planet as small as fucking possible. Thats what I'm doing. And once my body is strong enough I will ride my 1967 Norfield and my 1982 Suzuki made out of 2 one I got for free from a kid and the other half found behind a dumpster. I will drive my 1986 Oldsmobile until it won't drive anymore and then I will get another.
These people who talk about Living GREEN who buy these new hybrids where the factories pump SO much shit into the air. They drink their GREEN water out of their GREEN plastic bottles. It's all bullshit.
Am I GREEN? No. But I do stay warm primarly with old army blankets, the laptop sits on a cut up Pepsi box, my vehicles already existed 2 before I was born, I draw on old printer paper, etc. I have been wearing the same pair of glasses for 8 years. When the rubber came off the ear pieces did I replace them? No - I used the insulation from 18 gauge wire. I have worn the same wool jacket for 6 years, and the same leather boots for 10.
We all do our own bit, but when the ice caps melt and my house becomes beach front property dont come crying to me because your 2018 Ford Explorer sank along with your new GREEN home full of your GREEN plastic bottles, and your recycled clothing.
Monday, November 23, 2009
This is one of my all time favorite movies, I actually have the soundtrack on vinyl which is how I discovered it. But more to the point not to be morbid, but to have someone play the Stones on the Organ at my funeral... Wouldn't that be cool?
I have a doctor's apointment in 7 hours which means I should be asleep - which I am of course not. I'm not in the mood for sleep. I'm not in the mood at all.
Fuck it.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Well I discovered something pretty neat on the Enfield:
So what you see is the crankshaft on the drive side of the engine. The first picture shows the 3 bolt holes that Enfield uses to mount the inner primary cover - this is the cover that the chain linking the engine sprocket (off the crank) to the clutch sprocket (which is off the gearbox). So this chain, the alternator and the clutch all run inside of this chain case which is sealed and there is an oil bath inside.
On my Norton cases I had an issue - there was a bracket which you can see in the 3rd picture which is supposed to hold the stator (part of the alternator) which screws into the crank case inside of the inner primary cover. The Norton cases I got to replace Dad's didn't have mounting holes for this bracket.
As it just so happens the mounting holes for the Enfield Inner primary cover line up with the bracket designed for the Norton. The downfall is that the mouth of the inner primary cover is too big - that I will solve by making a bracket of my own - that will fit between the stator bracket and the crank case.
god damnit my hands are acting up - I'll finish this later.
Had a long talk with mom today. It ran all over the place but ended up back at the Norton project. The killer questions were "Is this practical or sentimental?" and "What would your father think?" We discussed ideas and possibilities. What does the Norton really need? An engine. Does it have to be a Norton engine? Well... no... What about That engine? It'd work... And you have it.
In the end it was decided that for practical purposes as well as saving about 5-8000 dollars that the Enfield engine I have leaning up against a wall could work fine. The expensive issues are the same as the Norton. Clutch mainly.
The Enfield needs some sprockets, some new bolts, some rings, and an ignition to be running. The oil tank was going to be tricky but mom is buying me a new set of crank cases for christmas.
At any rate this is now the plan. This and the Suzuki. It'll take a few days to get used to it, but I should be in full support by friday.
This is my Flask: I have had it since I was 15. It has held very little alcohol over the years, but it has seen a great deal of my life, a decade of loyal service, thats as much time with me as some of my best friends. It has seen the darkest aspects of my life, and it has seen some of the brightest most happy memories.
It's been across this country with me four times. On a trip with my Mother and Father to the Grand Canyon, on a trip with just my father it went to Mexico with us. On a trip to California with Stevie, and on a sole motorcycle journey across the United States in my pocket.
On many occasions it carried just water. To some parties that I have attended from simple college parties to seedy parties that were hosted by people I used to work for it contained water mixed with powerful ground up pain killers. It has been to many a theater production and was even left in a bin with a curious looking cop at a courthouse when I went to jury duty before I turned 21. I assured him it was just water - which wasn't the case (I'd forgotten it was in my pocket) - and he was very nice and dropped the matter.
The flask is stainless steel, 8oz, it is scratched, dented in places. I recently out of boredom taped it with a tar based roofing patch and then three days later spent four agonizing hours trying to peel the shit off - which is why it has a rubbery tar like coating in places - which might wear off eventually.
These are two of my pocket watches: I have quite a few actually. My prize watches are really quite old, I even have a key wind Elgin. I have my Great Grandfather's Railroad watch. I have some prize watches that are really quite beautiful in Gold and Silver, I have a watch that was presented to my Great Great Grandfather on my mother's side by his parents when he turned 18 - it has a picture of him in it from when he was a mere baby. That is the watch of a man who owned Steel Mills back when this country really was one of Industry.
These two watches are new and battered. The one on top I carried all through high school, it was made in Russia, cost $50 in 1998, and keeps almost perfect time. I actually carried it through several years of college, and even now still carry it, it is in the suit I wore to my Uncle's funeral a few days ago.
The watch on the bottom I got while I was out in Phoenix because the one I rode cross country with did Not survive the trip. This is another 18 jewel watch - like the Russian version, but with a watch movement in it. Also mechanical, also keeps perfect time, with a french name it was made in China. It cost a little more that $50, it cost $100 to be exact - that includes the inscription on the back which on top reads "John A Greenman" and on the bottom "1984 - " which is my sense of humor and my intent to keep it as a using watch until I am either old and grey or in the ground when I am 30. Who knows?
The point is that we - some of us - build relationships with objects. Someone has a favorite jacket. Other's have a car which they dote on. Many of us have objects that mean something to us, either because they were given to us by someone we love, or because they have ridden through so many years of service.
Objects are Very important to me. You will find that I have a story for just about everything I own, the cheaper things don't last, and the things that do last become a part of you.
The Vanson leather jacket my father bought for me so I'd be safe on the bike, which I wore to his funeral and rode cross country wearing.
The Norton Atlas headlight that sits on my bed which saw dad through 10 years of night roads with a lens in it that he got at a 24 hour race he was part of.
These headphones next to me I have had them since they I was 12 - a christmas present - they are the same as you see the Americans wearing on the sub in "Hunt for Red October"
There is a putter Beer Mug next to me with the initials of K.F.P. That stands for Katherine FitzSimmons Peffer - my Grandmother. She and her husband got a match set when they were married. Incidentally these mugs were made by Abercrombie & Fitch (made in London) before the company lost sight of what it was and became a company selling clothes to Teens - something which pisses me off a bit because its harder to tell who's gay now because all the straight boys dress in A&F and look queer. Humph.
I have a wool Jacket at the foot of the bed made by Filson, got it for Christmas some years ago, it's been through a TON.
This bed I am in was my parent's. They broke it while making love when my uncle was visiting when I was a little kid. Then when my brother and his wife broke it and I had to fix it I found Dad's fix and was both proud and mortified. I'm sure they'd ALL be mortified if they knew I'd just written that. It's apparently a family tradition to break this bed while making love - something I'll have to live up to, yet I fixed it with aluminum bracing so I'll have to work harder at it.
I have a letter that my father wrote me when I was 17. It's just words on a page, paper, inanimate, and yet it is probably worth more to me than anything else in this world:
I'm slowly getting the hair figured out. Pure stupidity - or perhaps just not knowing... I was using the wrong end of the comb.
I got 3 bits of tobacco today, I got 50g of Navy Deluxe - which I had smoked once in Phoenix and remembered liking, I got 3oz of the Saint John's blend which has a real kick to it, and I got 3oz of the Elm Park blend which is smoother.
My pipe, the new one is developing an interesting look to it, as you may remember it was white clay. The clay around the stem has turned a dark brown and in some places a golden black. Then just before the bowl on top it is still almost pure white. My side of the bowl is a deep ashen brown, which lightens as you move around the front of the bowl. The bottom shows some signs of wear with some scrapes and a chip or two which I have no solid explanation for. The top quarter inch of the bowl just before it flattens out is a golden white. The top of the bowl near the fire pit =) is black of course, and there is a tobacco crust wrapped around the very edge of the inside of the bowl.
For the moment this is my favorite pipe, but who knows how long that will last? I move about them, switching up and smoking them as I feel. They are all old friends, and some of them were dad's old friends, a couple were my great grandfather's old friends - I have pictures of him smoking a pipe very much like the one I smoke now.
As enjoyable as the tobacco is, and the pure act of smoking the pipe - I love to watch the smoke itself as it swirls into the air it almost seems like its dancing. Twirls, rings, and waves - I find it to be incredibly relaxing and even beautiful to watch. I am still working out a way in my head to capture this on film. A flash would kill it, but its best seen in a room that is lit, but not overly lit like the sky. I think my best option is one of dad's old cameras with a light meter and the lens controlled manually holding the shutter open using the second hand on my pocket watch. I think that will be the best way. I will have to dig out a couple books and try to find a shutter cable (screws into the camera so you can take pictures from a bench using your thumb to control the shutter).
The Ergometer arrived today - as you very well know. I got it down the stairs still in the box by myself using my leg as a stop with the weight aimed down at me. Putting it together was fun, Pop would have criticized the instructions which were only good if you looked at the pictures real closely. For example 3 braces had to go together to form the support for the fan, and the instructions showed these as one unit. The two bars were different lengths and different bends by the brackets - forming different angles. You could have put them together about 6 different ways and 5 of them would have been wrong. Study the drawings and you'll get it right.
I remember when I was about 14 we got an ergometer so that my brother could train for the Saint John's crew team. I used to go down to the basement on Morningside Road and pull, just pull until my muscles were screaming - I actually had muscles back then. I'd listen to Rage Against the Machine's Evil Empire record and just PULL. At the time the erg was in the basement next to the boiler - away from the machine shop under this hanging 25W light bulb which burned your eyes if you looked directly into it. The Type B erg was much more industrial and Al had put a Nine Inch Nails sticker on it.
It later moved to the front porch which was a room, but had no real foundation - thus porch. Dad had found this training program which I can't find, but essentially the first time you got on you pulled as HARD as you could to pull 1000 meters - that was your 100% From that you could figure out what your 90%, 80%, etc was... and each day you would pull a different percent starting low and working your way up. You had one rest day - normally monday - and at the end of the week you would pull a 1000m at you 100%. I remember Al and Dad would come down as I was beginning to fail and cheer me on sometimes.
The mind is a funny thing when you're on an Erg. No matter how strong or tough you may be, that machine finds a way to beat you down - it is ALWAYS the boss. So your mind begins to tell you - "You dont have to pull an hour, half an hour is enough" or "You've done good - you can stop now" and you have to fight back and ignore the screaming pain in you joints and the horrible ache of your muscles and just keep pulling. I once found that if you imagined you were pulling away from a sinking ship - pulling for your life that you could keep going.
I used to be strong. Today I pulled for 5 minutes and felt like I was going to die after, I was literally spitting up blood, shaking, and could barely move.
Tomorrow (which is right now) but later in the day I will do it again. I might do it two or three times a day and work until I can pull 6 minutes, then 7, and you get it. I am tired of looking like a refugee. I am tired of having no stamina. I may HURT like hell all the time, and I may have to rub testosterone on my shoulders every day to keep what little muscle I have, but you know what? Hell and Death will not keep me from building myself back into a human being. Fuck it. That's what I say. Fuck the syndromes, fuck being in bed all the time. Fuck it all! "CRY HAVOC AND LET SLIP THE DOGS OF WAR!"
At some point in the last few weeks something changed in me (again). I had guys from the forum complimenting me - pictures of me from before Dad died. That's why I shaved my beard, to please them. And you know what I got complimented anyways. I will continue with the hair - I LIKE the slicked back look, but I am taking a special interest in learning to get it JUST so. Because I want it to look good. I want me to look good again. The doctors are doing there part and I have to do mine. The doctor says what dad used to say - exersize (I have now idea how to spell that) and so I will. I am going to get FIT and the Erg is going to be my instramint in doing so.
Start reading real books again, starting with "The Sailor's Odyssey" and just get my life back on track. I may be a captive in this body and in this basement a lot of the time, but I am going to do everything I can to make myself bigger and better while I am here. I want to be able to get my health under control and succeed at something for once in my life. I want to have something more to my name than my Saint John's diploma. I know for a fact that I can be somebody someday, and not just someone who offers Gay Teens good advice - which I do take some pride in. For what its worth, all the shit and death that has enveloped me over the years has made me more compassionate and maybe, just maybe a better person. Who knows who I would have been if things had gone the right way instead of so horribly fucking wrong.
Anyways I am done, I am done for now. I feel GOOD. I know that can slip away. Sam felt good told me it was the best he'd ever felt since he got away from those people, and then he killed himself. So I do get that just because I'm on top of a mountain one minute doesn't mean I wont fall off a cliff.
Someone I respect once told me to "Aim for the moon, because even if you miss you can reach the stars" - korny I know, but you know what for a long time I believed in that, and then it seemed that I burned up in the atmosphere. Well I'm going to get myself strong enough so I can take another shot.
What else have I got?
Monday, November 9, 2009
The Erg arrived today. Pics later of getting it down in the basement and setting it up.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Listening to "Midnight Special" by CCR, feeling totally fucking stoned from the medications, and looking up at the suit I'm going to put on in an hour so that I can drive out to Canton MA to go to the funeral of one of my favorite uncles. Then I'll drive to Dorchester MA where he and his wife lived for the "gathering" that follows a funeral. My god, its just not fair.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Been listening to this one a lot lately. Not sure why, since I haven't had that happen. I have somehow managed to be the one to end the very few relationships I have been in. And when I say very few, I technically mean 2?
I am cleaning up my looks a little bit. I'm not totally sure why, not 3 weeks ago I was dead set on looking homeless, and now? Now I am cleanly shaved, thinking about what to do with my hair. I have to clean up my teeth a bit, the pipe tobacco has done a number on them. I think in a month or two I can look like a respectable human being again.
The ergometer is coming and that will be good. I can start pulling again and start building up some muscle. I just almost collapsed when mom was down here. She couldn't help me up because physical contact literally kills.
Brent, Jon, and Steve came by earlier which was pretty wicked. They hung out for a while, Jon, Steve & I smoked which brought the smoke cloud down to head level. The thing is, its a more gentlemanly smoke. Two of us smoking pipes, and Steve a home rolled cigaret. Yes its a strong smell, but its not that putrid smell that comes with commercial cigarrets. Its just different. I have discovered I love watching the smoke exit the pipe and disperse almost magically into the air making awesome streaming designs in the air as it goes. I'm trying to figure out how to photograph it.
We just talked. Jon brought a box of parts for his Harley which is quickly approaching fixable. It needed front end work mostly, and a new gastank. It hit a truck at some 10mph. Doesn't sound like much, but motorcycles don't have bumbers, so imagine your steering rack getting hit by a giant sheet of steel really hard.
I have so much more to write, but my whole body is locking up.
That's an excellent title I think. It's true too. Hot water helps with the pain. Not completely, but enough to feel almost normal. I have it down to a science now with the board and the laptop and a t-shirt to dry my hands if they get wet so I can type and keep myself in a good mood. Music is key.
Another thing I noticed from the movie Pirate Radio is the clock on the wall is the same as I have in my bathroom, an utterly water proof clock, technically speaking a submarine clock.
I cleaned my room up a bit tonight. I have more to do, it gets away from me because I have so little energy.
Told Brent about this blog too, just a random thing because he'd asked why the Xanga was sooo empty lately. Brent is easily one of my best friends. Like a brother. He's part of the family. I never tell him this stuff, I tend to give him shit. But I guess in a way I'm telling him now.
I don't know. I'm going to go back to figuring out the Norton price list.
So there's a lot running through my head right now. House plans, workout plans, life plans, etc...
So time to put them down here - again.
The house, this basement in which I live. It doesn't do the house justice, well not all of it.
That's the house, we bought it in 2003. Since moving in we have installed a new steam heating system, storm windows, electrical system, re-done a bit of the plumbing.. some other stuff. There is a lot to do.
After dad died I moved into the basement. There are sort of 2 basements. One side is finished, have a TV room and an excersize room complete with a full scale ping pong table, treadmill, total gym, and ergometer (coming soon). The unfinished side used to house dad's metal shop (2 lathes, milling machine, shaper, power hacksaw, and shit load of tools), and his office/laundry room.
I now sleep in the former office, the laundry machines went upstairs to a room off the kitchen. So my bedroom has some benches, a couple old chairs, my queensize bed, and a wardrobe. As well as pictures covering all 4 walls almost completely.
What I don't have is a kitchen. I also have concrete floors. So it is my intention to turn the now empty larger room into a sort of full kitchen/dining room thing. I want to frame off the concrete walls with 2x4s and blueboard with wall paper or painted plaster. I'll frame off walls around the boiler/water heater with a door. I want nice mop boards around the floor area and maybe that molding at chair hight round the walls with white paint below and wall paper up top.
There is a chimney off that room where the boilers used to feed. I think I'll run ductwork out so I can run a wood or pellet stove out of the room. I want old school steel cabinets made in Youngstown. I want a double oven if I can get one, or an ancient Glenwood style stove:
I'm not sure yet. If I do all that then I have a full 1100sq ft apt to live in down here that is complete.
That said there is a chance that we could sell this house and get a duplex, or I could even at some point be investing in a triple decker and mom would get herself a nice cape or bungelo style house.
I never want to leave this house, but its not practical for 2 people, especially as mom is basically all alone in the main house. Its just.. not practical. Dad was never supposed to die at 59, they were supposed to grow old here.
The Erg is something I am greatly looking forward to. I have fond memories of pulling in the basement on Morningside rd, listening to Rage under the 40w light bulb that hung from a wire, next to the boiler and coal stove =p It'll be like old days again.
Except of course that the erg will be in a finished room.
As to life, I don't know what path I'm on right now. I gotta sort out my health, and my body, before I can do much else.
Legs, left shoulder, ribs, hands, feet, eyes. So tired. stabbing pain behind my ribs in my back, Right lung.
THIS, this got old back in April. Feeling like this ALL the time.
My mom bought another Ergometer which is SWEET.
My brother took the last one when he moved out. It will be nice to start pulling again. Even if I feel like death, there is really no better way of getting fit, getting the knees bent, just working out!
I don't know, I feel like hell. I just want it all to be over with. I'm not praying for death or anything so sinister, I just want to feel like a 25 year old should. Is that so much to ask? Is it?
As weird as this is going to sound. I was in my friend John's bathroom tonight relieving myself and I thought wow, what a crazy way things turned out, I have to remember to write about this. Now just for the record John has a weird sense of humor and put a mirror covering the wall of said bathroom so when you're standing there relieving yourself you're starring at yourself in the mirror. It's funky.
So tonight I hung out with John and Stevie. Both I have known since high school - John technically before. He's a teacher and my folks took him out to dinner when I was still in junior high - thats when I first met him. Once in school I remember the first day of freshman year I was walking by his room and he was talking about Lord of the Flies and the breakdown of society which he demonstrated by throwing a chocolate bar into the middle of the room and shouting "Get IT!" and I watched a group of students pile up for the candy bar. Breakdown of the norms. It was hilarious. I didn't Have him for a teacher until Junior year, but he was the director in the fall Drama Club shows, and I worked Stage Crew so I got to know him then. We didn't become Friends until senior year, and then after I graduated we began hanging out. He is truly one of my best friends, and I can discuss guys with him, which for a long time was something I didn't have with anyone else. He can also appreciate my background, and I his.
Steve was a year younger than I was. I met him at drama club sophomore year, and inducted him into our little group. A few of us went bowling every Saturday night. I started inviting him senior year. We have been the best of friends for a while, when I was 19 and he 18 we drove cross country together in my old Taurus without cell phones. It was an incredible Adventure.
But the reflections were how we all ended up. Who in high school would have seen it going this way? Stevie the son of a carpenter now working as a high school teacher with autistic kids. Lives on the first floor of John's duplex. Hanging out every Thurs and watching TV, the three of us, sometimes more. Somewhere along the lines we became Men, the boys we were are gone.
My friend Brent who all but stalked the UMASS Life Flight pilots is now a helicopter pilot himself and a training instructor at the school he went to.
My friend Jon, short little hairy Italian is a Nuclear Design Engineer at Westinghouse. So is my friend Adam who was a year ahead of us.
3 of my best friends were frosh when I was a senior. Kyle is basically a legitimate Rocket Scientist who could actually end up in space one day. Was working on shuttle designs with NASA before he graduated his undergrad. I saw him just the other day, we had Lunch in Boston.
Paul and Chris. I have known Paul for a LONG time, his older brother is Adam who was a year older than me - Brent's class of 01. So Paul went from the little brother to a best friend. Since he was such good friends with Chris he got adopted into the group (Chris I mean) - both are Engineers.
I have done so much, attempted so much, changed so much. Its hard to remember who and what I was even 3 years ago. It's hard to know what I am now.
I am too tired and too medicated to finish this. I will tomorrow.
Well I showed my friend Goose the picture of me with Steve, one of my father's best friends. This was back when I was 23, actually this was back at the house after pop's funeral. Goose was dumb struck, actually stared open mouthed at the picture for about 10 seconds which I thought was hilarious. Goose is incredibly cute, hot actually. He couldn't believe how different I looked, and a bit of flattery ensued as to how I used to look. I hate the mop of curly hair which is why I choose to slick it back whenever possible. He, and the others in chat thought it looked great.
He told me to Shave. I said the only way he was going to get me to shave was if we were cuddling and he told me to shave. He said that I would be clean shaven by Christmas if he had to come here and do it himself - which I would have preferred. But all this talk about how good I looked from guys I think are quite good looking - Chris too - was shaking my resolve pretty badly. My resolve had been "I will not shave or cut my hair before July"
Finally after some argument and a poll which Goose posted on the forum of beard and no beard - which was 5 to 1 within about 5 minutes... Well I came up with a deal. The deal was I would shave right then and there if Goose, who was without a shirt at the time, but wrapped in a blanket would loose the blanket and stand up and show me his stomach and chest for 10 seconds. Goose agreed with the stipulation that Chris had to do it too. Let me add that any guy who is slim or fit, their stomach - I don't know its something about the torso, it makes me weak at the knees. So for about 24 seconds Chris and Goose stood and showed off, Chris flexed, Goose just stood there.. and well... to me that was worth it totally. I know that makes me sound cheep, but you know, I don't care.
So Before, And After,
Took about 10 minutes to trim the beard and sideburns down far enough with scissors so that the razor stood a chance, then another 10 working with the razor.
It occurred to me afterwards that while my family would have accepted my presence at John's wake and funeral with the scruffy beard (I wore a leather jacket to my father's funeral - granted he'd bought it for me) , it probably will go over better with all if I look as clean and civilized as physically possible.
I am still in shock. I am meeting Kyle for lunch in Boston today at 12, that is something I am deeply looking forward to. He is without a doubt the best friend I've ever had, has stood by me through so much shit. When dad died he was in Florida working as an intern with NASA - he was actually working on the inside of one of the shuttles and doing design work for something. Anyways the weekend his friends from Boston were coming down to visit him, he flew back to MA for dad's funeral, stayed for about 24 hours, by my side for most of it, then flew back - all on his own nickel. I love him dearly, he is without a doubt one of the finest most civilized human beings I have Ever known. I am proud beyond words to have him as a friend.
I also rarely see him. I mean, he's been in Boston for going on 6 years now, and I've probably made it out to visit him 6 times total, maybe more. He visits me here more than I there. I'm trying to change that. So lunch today will be grand.
I haven't slept. I'm going to skip my meds this morning and afternoon. Not the brightest idea as they are what dull the pain - I will bring them with me. But they cause drowsiness and impair my cognitive ability. I haven't slept in about 40 hours, sooo Taking 900mg of pills that induce sleep, when I haven't, just before I climb in my car and drive to Boston - seems like an error of judgement. I take 900mg 3 times a day. Its why I've been in bed so much again lately.
Anyways, I'm done for now. This week... the Olds is going to be going to and from Boston 6 times at least.
I wonder who of our side of the family will come in for John's funeral. Maggie & Debbie for sure as Maggie was his wife before she married Debbie (they have been together at least 30 years), but Maggie and John had a daughter - Jess, who will certainly come up from Wisconsin, and her husband and Josh - John's Grandson. But the other John (for who I am named) is in Georgia, Matt is in Colorado, and Marty is in California. I know Dad loved John a great deal, Dad would have gone to this (if he were still alive) even if John were being buried in South Korea - Dad would have Gone. But I can't speak for the rest of the family, I just... I don't know how much they felt for him.
Enough. enough.
The Rules have changed today I have no place to stay I'm thinking about the subway My love has flown away My tears have come and gone Oh my lord I have to roam I have no home I have No Home
My Aunt Debbie called this morning to tell us that one of my Uncles died at 2am from a heart attack. I am sobbing as I type this. Two years ago my father died. The whole family gathered for his service, and John of course was among them. When he took up with my Aunt Maggie he sort of became an older brother of Dad. He got Dad into racing motorcycles and gave him his first set of racing leathers. My father always spoke well of John. Always had so many stories to tell. And after Dad died John had a lot of the same stories to tell me. He was really there for me, through email. He gave me a tour of his factory 3 weeks after dad died - I rode out their on Dad's Triumph T100. It took my father's death to really get to know him in person. I can't believe he's gone. I was just talking about him the other night. I miss him extremely already. And I have no idea how to console his wife, and his daughter. And Josh his grandson is just old enough to know what's going on. I'm sobbing so hard, its hard to see.
Today has been pretty decent. Dressed up well enough, nice socks, white pants, button down polo shirt (blue), and my moleskin vest.
Went to The Owl Shop today. Got 3 blends and a tobacco bag - cheapest one they had which has a sort of scottish kilt design to it. I don't care it was $7
The blends were 2 by McClelland and one Owl Shop special. In that order: Deep Hollow, Virginia Woods, and The Elm Park Blend. I like all three. All smooth blends, a switch up from the kick you in the head stuff I was smoking last week.
I also - in watching The Boat that Rocked, found a perfect image of what I will probably look like in 20 years, the character Bob. His style of glasses I have wanted since I was 16 - don't get me confused with a Harry Potter person, I was 16 LONG before that craze hit. It was more of a John Lennon thing with me. Now its more of a Bob thing, minus the drugs. He has the same lack of hair on his chin that I seem to suffer from. So behold, the future of Jack:
Interesting is it not?
So Brent came by and we got subs for lunch, watched a movie Midnight in the Garden of Good And Evil, which is always wonderful. We were waiting for The Boat That Rocked ie Pirate Radio to load. In between movies - Paul and Chris two more good friends came by to change up motorcycles - Paul keeps his alternate bike in my garage. While they were here Brent got called away because friends of his from the helicopter school he works at - he's a trainer/pilot - are coming into Worcester and he's taking them out to eat. I was going to go but my ribs started to hurt.
After he left Paul & Chris helped me move the remaining two Bozak speakers into my bedroom. So once I get the chance I will have an amazing stereo down here. Two 12" Woofers and two towers with 8? tweeters in each of them. WONDERFUL sound.
Now they are all gone, and you and I are the only ones left. I have no idea who if anyone reads this. I know I have two subscribers, a fella I don't know at all, and Justin who I can't say I know, but I know he's a local which is pretty cool. The truly Ironic bit about Justin is I found his blog in the most roundabout manner. Reading my friend Gary's usual news (Gary is from Oz) I discovered Shannon's blog, also from Oz, and through Shannon I discovered Justin who is from MA? Does that make sense? Hahahaha, if you really want to look at it from the outer perspective if I hadn't become a fan of Cody who was from Cape Town, I'd never have met Gary, and following that never would have come to Justin - so it took a South African to lead me to a guy who probably lives 2 hours away. What a bizarre thing this internet has become.
Now I do keep a regular ink written journal. I Always have, I have stacks of notebooks going back years of my life. These blogs are an extension of such a form. I write here when I do not or cannot write there. But I sometimes think about how public the web has made our private lives. 50 years ago, hell 20 years ago the idea of keeping a public journal would have been appalling, but what has changed? The Internet has made us all a bit more open I think. It has united us in ways I could never believe. I for example am not a lone pipe smoker, compliments of youtube I have a dozen guys I know who smoke pipes, all across the country - sharing thoughts about pipes and tobaccos.
Gays have been united. For me it was the Gay Teen Forum (.net) which I found when I was technically still a teenager, I did not have the courage to join until I was a bit past then, I lurked for quite some time it seems. But I have now been a member for close to 6 years. I am the GTF grandpa as it were. It has united me with friends all across the country and even the world.
The Facebook allows me to keep in contact with guys I knew in high school. Guys who would NEVER write letters - I still write letters by the way, there is just something about writing a letter that seems to have more soul than THIS. But it is GRANDE being able to keep in touch with them. I also have a Dear Dear friend who I knew in Phoenix who is now in prison, I use Facebook to keep in touch with his mother. My only source of contact with him, knowing I have it makes my heart glow.
Myspace keeps me in touch with guys I knew at the Motorcycle Mechanics Institute in Phoenix. Just knowing that I can get a hold of Zach or Zero if I want to. Zero helping me with my Suzuki from 3000 miles away because I made a status post to the effect that she was missing on 2 cylinders.
I don't know. I am greatful for it, one of my closest friends on the planet is in Hudson, 20 minutes away, and without facebook we'd never have time to talk. My BEST friend on the planet is in Boston and with his schedule - getting a P.h.D I think in aeronautical engineering... how would we ever communicate? Or Liam, ohhhh Liam, up in NH, the internet again.. because he hates phones as much as I do.
Hands Down the BEST movie I have seen in YEARS. Made me cry, made my mother cry, made my best friend cry. We all laughed and sang and maybe danced? Who knows. Here's the trailer.
Simple tonight because I had the thought tonight that if maybe I took as many of my gabapentin as possible maybe I'd just drift off to sleep and never wake up, and not be in pain anymore?
The fact that that occurred to me depressed the fuck out of me. I'm a fighter. I'm stubborn. 2700mg a day fucks with one's head.
Think I'll start a fire Everybody Run Bobby's Got a Gun I think you're kind of Neat Then she tells me I'm a Creep
The following is very different, a recording I made of Taj Mahal singing Queen Bee from the 70s live on SNL. Taj was fucking incredible, well he still is, he's outlived my father.
A friend is here to visit. By here I mean in town. A bit of a surprise. I worked for his Aunt out in Boston when I was a bit younger, a bit easier on the eyes. He specifically asked me not to tell certain friends I was visiting because he didn't want any feelings hurt, but he already hurt those friends, so I don't think I'd have mentioned it even if he hadn't asked. I have known him since I was young and pretty (or at least less battered) and since he was a child. He was 12 when we first met. He is someone I have risked everything for, including going into a party in Boston with a baseball bat to bring him out of. How he hated me, until he discovered who and what those people were capable of.
I smell pretty rancid right now. I haven't had the energy to shower in some time. I take baths when ever I can, but you just don't get as clean with a bath. Especially when you have to extend your legs out one end up to the bent knees with your buttocks against that wall of the tub in order to dunk your head beneath the surface and wash your hair. Call my filthy if you must. Water from a shower nozzle actually causes pain, and I lack the energy to stand that long while being inflicted by such pain. So instead it is baths. Baths and "Old Spice" hahaha.
I am getting ready to watch the movie that was originally titled "Pirate Radio" which I am greatly looking forward to. Drinking a Pepsi. My friend Paul wants me to switch to Jones' Apple something. He thinks sugar and caffeine are bad for me. I Love them. As I sit here I am listening to Josh Ritter's The Animal Years.
I am developing a group of middle aged pipe and cigar smoking men on Youtube who follow my videos avidly and comment often. I am not sure if this is more because I am 25, because I don't wear a shirt in a lot of them, or if its the music which ranges from Pearl Jam to The Kingston Trio? Perhaps its just because I am a fellow pipe smoker and age doesn't matter. Have I grown cynical?
I was watching The History Boys Yesterday and couldn't help but wonder if the reason I thought about NOT becoming a History teacher was my fear of becoming like Hector? Not fat, never fat, but old, alone, in a loveless marriage, fondling high school students riding on the back of my old English motorcycle - he rode a Velecette by the way, a LOVELY machine. I don't think I would EVER lay a finger on a student. But I wonder how happy I could be in a job where I was surrounded by temptation of good looking guys approaching adulthood? Still, I feel I would make an excellent teacher, and I am strong willed, and each year I am out of high school the students seem younger and younger, so I believe by the time I am healthy enough to get my degree I should be well out of danger.
Well a few things I guess. Made a new video on youtube:
I made it for a friend of mine who I haven't seen in a couple months. I can see a couple old friends starting at the title, yes yes, I borrowed a nickname from the Captain. I promise you all it's well fitting to my friend.
So I saw the doctor's today. The one med goes from 1800mg a day to 2700mg. I can apparently go as high as 3500mg? Not sure. At any rate I should be sound alseep but I had a bit of a nightmare. I really need/want a hug, but I think if anyone tried to touch me right now I'd freak out. I haven't slept since, so I'm pretty hammered.
Supposed to go to a halloween party tonight. I'm going to go as a homeless man, shouldn't be too hard to rig up the costume, I look next to homeless all the time anyways.
Patched a couple more holes in the bastement ceilings, from both the ductwork we removed and from the holes to re-install the steam pipes. God I miss my father.
Mom's birthday is Sunday. I wrote her a letter in the card. Dinner at my brother's Sunday night. Saturday is Halloween, John is going to come over and we are going to work on the Harley.
I think we can have the candy in a bowl in the Garage where we're working, that way the kids can just get the candy and not bug mom. Besides, the doorbell is on the list of things that Dad and I never fixed. Sure the dog will go NUTS but hey...
Anyways, I'm done. I have Smashing Pumpkins going.
Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage Someone will say what is lost Will never be saved Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a CAGE!!!!!!!!!
Tell Me I'm the Only one Tell me there's no other one Jesus was an only son Tell me I'm the chosen one Jesus was an only son For You!!!!!!
Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a cage Someone will say what is lost Will never be saved Despite all my rage I'm still just a rat in a CAGE!!!!!!!!!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The rules have changed today (Hey) I have no place to stay (Hey) I'm thinking about the subway (Hey) My love has flown away (Hey) My tears have come and gone (Hey) Oh my Lord, I have to roam (Hey) I have no home (Hey) I have no home (Hey)
These are words that strike me pretty deep. I'm in an interesting mood, and its 2:30 in the morning, and I'm just so out of it. Weird because the meds are the same and yet they are hitting me really hard.
I found some old pictures of me in a friends Facebook album. Here they are. This isn't vanity, its just amazement at the past.
Here is one with an incredible mess of hair. I don't know if it was before or after Dad's death, probably just before. I believe Brent and I had spent the night working on my Taurus which I sold to my best friend Kyle to drive down to Florida where he would be working for NASA! This would be early June? I had gotten brake cleaner in my eye and was trying to calm the pain it was causing.
A bare white chest with oil soaked arms and a greasy face. You can see what part of me was deep inside the car, and what was covered, in many ways this is a creepy picture the look on face!
Here is one when dad was still alive. I had ridden the Moto Guzzi over to a 3 decker on Chandler Street owned by Brent's mom. That balcony on the second floor is/was one of Brent and My favorite places to just hang out, talk, and watch people walk through their lives.
Actually this is after Dad died. Those were his pants. He bought me that leather jacket so I would be safe. Its one of my prized possessions. The boots... well dad always wore them when he rode bikes. I grew to love them and wear my pair everywhere. Rode cross country in those boots!
I am not one to worry about my hair, but it looks HORRIBLE in this one. That was one of my father's favorite pipes, and the one I at first tried to smoke. That was the beginning of pipes being in all my pictures.
Here's a good shot of the Triton I was building in the basement. How different the room is now. What a MESS! I learned a LOT at MMI and would have rebuilt that bike had I decided to stay with the idea.
Finally two pictures of the Triton when it was just about done, that was a good night, friends hanging out with me in the basement.
I love this one because you can see pictures of Dad in the back as a kid and as a "tough guy"
Monday, October 26, 2009
^ Reminds me of my time in Phoenix. 'Cept if it was the same my friend Zach would be singing it, it'd be Saturday night and there would be half a dozen guys in his apartment sitting around listening to some live music. Those were good times. Zero posted on my myspace today in response to a status I'd posted about the Suzuki missing on 2&3 cylinders. I hadn't thought to check the timing. I'll look into that in the next day or so.
Still working to get the right grease for slicking my hair back. I am contemplating just going back to honest to god gearbox grease which is what I used out in Phoenix. Hahaha, it's proper for what I am going for, and REALLY holds the hair back in that old school style.
I'm going for straight back, without any design to it. This is how it's going so far, but I need something a bit stronger
It's a far cry from how I looked when I first got home:
I can just picture the people saying "Why the hell!"
or my friend Matt who prefers this:
Which is how I wore it for years.
But for now I am going for that totally shaggy hammered look, which explains the beard and the hair. I will cut neither until at LEAST July. I REALLY want to see how long it will get. Besides, it's not like I'm looking for dates, so the fact that I look like hell and death doesn't really phase me right now =p
Once I go back to looking for dates, and when you consider I haven't in a decade, then I'll clean myself up, shave, get my hair cut back to how it was in that last picture, and whiten my teeth. But by then the motorcycle you saw in the last picture, which looked like this:
Will look like this:
And by that point I will be hopefully looking for a job as a teacher, and will have to trim myself up.
If things had gone according to plan I'd be a History Teacher right now. But when does life EVER go according to plan?
I think back to a post I made today, in response to a thread titled "Sigh" on GTF, which was in response to Ald's saying I had to explain what happened if I wanted sympathy for a friend of mine who OD'd on Heroin. This was my reply:
"I don't see why I need to explain it. When I was in my early teens I hung out with 14 other boys. Now 11 of those boys are dead. 9 of them in the last 3 years.
Adam & Mike were killed Sam, Frankie, Kevin, and Patrick committed Suicide. Tim, Mark, Nick, Shawn, and Tom overdosed.
I could explain it again. I have many times in the past. I think I've even stated it publicly on the board. But what it really comes down to is that now 11 of my friends from that time in my life are dead. It's staggering. No you don't know what happened.
We come on this board to talk, to vent, to ramble, to make friends, to be random.
I remember talking to Shawn (former member here) on AIM the night that Sam killed himself. That was the night of Feb 3 2006. I was THERE. I can't say he died in my arms because I dropped him when he began to convulse. Sam was the one of the group who seemed to be making it, a surviver. Captain of his Lacrosse team, head of his class, had a girlfriend.. he was the ONE of us who was Really going to be OK. Then he killed himself.
Then Nick died. 5 of us went to his funeral. We all got coffee after. Kevin told us he'd come up in his last test as HIV+. He shot himself about 2 months later. The other 3 are all dead too.
It's like getting punched in the chest every time someone from that group dies. I keep telling myself that the shit I went through when I'm younger, it can be beat. I can get over it. Eventually I'll be ok again. The nightmares will stop. The fear of being touched will fade away. Maybe someday I'll be comfortable getting a boyfriend again. It won't get me. These doubts are just doubts, the fears are all in the past. They can't hurt me anymore. Its all unfounded.
And then I look... 11 of us are dead. 11 out of 15 of us are dead. Maybe you can't escape it? I didn't expect to live to be 15, surely not 18, no way I'd make it to 21. How I've managed to make it to 25 is still a mystery. It's like fighting a war of attrition. Eventually it wears you down until you either seek comfort in drugs, or you put a bullet in your head."
Sounds a little over dramatic when I read it again, but you know what, thats it. Thats how it's played out. I'm always dulling things down in real life. How are you doing? Fine. How's the pain? OK. Are you all right? Of Course. Do you need help? No.
Or at least I used to. Now if someone asks how I'm doing I'll try to tell them. I tried to be the strong type. I tried to keep it all inside and it almost killed me. I tried to not trust people and it almost killed me. I tried to overcome the apparent limits of my health and I failed again. Again and again and fucking again. Is it really failure if it's not your fault? It sure as fuck feels like it.
People see what they want to see.
When Mikey found out I'm bisexual - when I TOLD him he wouldn't speak to me for 3 weeks because he saw had always seen gays as fairies. So naturally I MUST have been lying about who I really was all this time. I swear half of my friends expected me to start acting like a classic fag.
When guys I went to high school with see that I am not working, that I have not finished college what do they see? Well now they see a sick guy, because I have started walking with a cane and I LOOK frail, or at least I did when I got home.
When you tell people that you were abused they look at you like you have cancer.
I remember on GTF a kid made a thread about what we do to help the gay community. I said I didn't do much right now, I have to deal with my health, and when I do have time to be an advocate for something I was going to stand up and fight against child porn. He accused me of being a pedo and said why would I fight something like that when I so obviously supported it, being a non teen on a teen forum. God that made me so mad. At least I had friends there who stood up for me instantly. For one I was a teen when I found the place. For two if he KNEW my history he'd know better. For three THINK about that statement. WHY would someone want to fight that, well everyone Should. But why would someone make a point of saying such a thing in a thread of that nature.
I don't know. I should go to sleep. I have been awake for ever.
Oh, here is the camera youtube thing I posted/promised:
Cry Havoc and Let Slip the Dogs of War!
But no, really, I'm a student to be a motorcycle mechanic, I'm 25, I write a lot, I eat less than I should, I sleep less than I should, but I like to get out and live. I don't drink, but I smoke a pipe. My sense of style is at Least 40 years out of date, I am who I am, and That's who I am.
