Busy, busy, busy. Things are really lining up for our western wandering. There’s still a barren patch due to a last-minute change of direction, but I passed my budget objective a couple of weeks ago and since then, everything’s been pretty relaxed. I’m back to willing points on the map closer together, wishing I had just one… more…. Week… things like that. I’m trying to shoehorn visits to friends and an afternoon at the Grand Canyon into our schedule and though I’m being mostly-successful, I’m of course going to always wish I had just one… more… week.
I’m working a LOT. Mostly I’d scheduled a lot of gigs and open mics and hours at the shop, as well as freelance jobs, to make sure I was flush for the trip just in case it DIDN’T come together – but it really has and now I’m in danger of being semi-financially comfortable for a little bit at least. We’re also looking at some fairly major changes in the house before the end of the year and 2014 looks to be… eventful.
2015? Maybe it’s time to finally hit Europe? Who knows. America is such a spectacular nation, we’ll never explore all of it, but I’d like to cross an ocean sometime and get out of my comfort zone again.
Today I was reminded of why I don’t always talk to strangers. Why sometimes it’s better to just be rude. Alas – I’m not one to be good about making friends with homeless people. I always see stories from people who chat up a man on the street, take him for lunch and get his beautiful, romantic and sad tale. They become great friends. One gets lunch, the other gets a song and everyone’s happy. I get the schitzophrenic ones, the angry ones – the nonsensical ones. A first memory of someone like this involved him picking up a rock and clubbing my friend Alison in the head. Another memory is of trying to get the story of some guy on Charles Street in Baltimore. He got really pissed off and kept yelling “YOU THINK I SHOULD GET A JOB!!! DONCHA!!!” waving his arms wildly and screaming at me and my little group as we hurried on down the street. Another experience saw me and my girlfriend handed a bag with booze in it, the matted, dreadlocked blonde man in front of us waved a big combat knife around and whispered “If you drink my shit I’ll kill you” before he ran off into the darkness. Needless to say we scarpered.
So today I engaged the man with unfocused, pale ice eyes who entered the shop. He said he was told he could get a bathroom key from us. That he was waiting for the drum jam and that he had a jug but couldn’t we just give him a key? Well, I let him use our rest room, thinking that was the kindest thing, not figuring this would make me a friend for Life. Déjà vu struck. Dirty, matted blonde dreads and baggy tie-dye pants, various religious symbols… “I’m the TURTLE man, it’s my NAME but it’s an ACRONYM”. He complained about how he didn’t deserve his three years in the mental health system. He finally got out. He sued the Man. He’s just waiting for a check. And social security. He was in Philly. And LA. And he did time somewhere else. His dad was a biker. But his dad is dead. And he’s done things that he wasn’t proud of.
I listen. I can be a good listener. His eyes focused on me one at a time, like a chameleon, but they would wander, slowly crossing like some cartoon character and he would answer questions with non-sequitors. Turtle pointed at his feet a lot and told me that since I knew my history I knew that shit. About the LSD? The government testing’s been rough but it explains a lot and I’ve done things I’m not proud of…
Fortunately? It was a slow moment in the store, so we had no other customers or visitors to deal with at the time, no-one to worry about. With other peoples’ stories in my mind I was trying to get something intelligible out of him, but he kept stringing the same hashed up phrases at me. His Dad was a biker. His Dad is dead. He’s a product of the system. He knows about the government tests and the LSD – and so do I, cause I know my history.
There were two questions I got clear answers on : “What brings you here?” He points to his feet. Not exactly what I meant, but it’ll do. “Where’d you hear about the drum jam?” “God.”
Meep.
Well, Turtle may be around for a while. He told me he Loves Takoma Park because we’ve got good health care and everyone’s just like him. Everyone is just… like…. Him.
Meep twice.
Our most recent show at the Blue and Gray in Gettysburg, PA was not as much as previous ones. For as much as it was a big biker night and we were supposed to see a LOT more audience members because of it – but the bikers all seemed to have some place to be and the bar was pretty quiet pretty swiftly into the night. These LED bikes out front were just about the bes thing of the night which is a shame. Played to the backs of a LOT of humans and came away kind of frustrated. Just a cute shot of me and some of the Board and Brew peeps. Seabrook mosque. Crazy huge. I mean, this would be a huge mosque even if it WASn’T in Seabrook – but the idea that it’s sprung forth in this area that… well.. frankly I don’t think of it as a terribly open-minded area, and my mom’s been forwarding me the heated concerns of the Neighbourhood Watch enough that I think my thoughts are pretty valid. There’s a LOT of xenophobia being expressed and a lot of “but why do they want to be HERE?!” lamentation. Sigh. I view my home town a little differently from how I used to. Crap.
