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.
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.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Norton/Enfield
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Love for Inanimate Objects.
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 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:
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Life
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
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.
I'm in the tub.
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.
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.
Friday, November 6, 2009
Alright
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.
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.
*growls*
Pain!
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?
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?
Personal Reflection
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.
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.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
I shaved
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
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
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
My Uncle Died
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.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Everybody Run... Bobby's Got a Gun
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.
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.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Boat that Rocked.
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.
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.
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About Me
- Jack Greenman
- 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.