Monday, November 12, 2007

running the course

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On Sunday, crammed in the back of my movie maker buddy's silver Saturn to check on a green screen location for a Buck Rogers/Barbarella type sci-fi project, scanning the buildings flash past on Guadalupe's main drag, we passed a Jiffy Lube with a sign that said: Now Hiring-Will Train; and I thought about it: fantasized the hard work, dirty fingernails, mechanic's frock with Bubba on the front pocket, the skills and experience I would acquire with a job like that.

I thought about making $7 or $7.50 an hour versus what I make now which is more than double that; didn't mind the idea of cutting back on expenses. Reformulating the would-be difference in a three month budget--if I cut back on new clothes, driving, a little food, and read the books I already had stacked everywhere, I'd be fine.


(Wha? Alcohol?...I don't think so. My wine and booze budget is the same as paying for fast Internet service to me: a total-luxury-boredom-numbing-heyday-escape-without-ever-having-to-leave-the-house-unless-you-feel-like-it luxury.){Some people meditate too.}

Within the ideals and glamourfication of stockpiling--I have plenty of clothes. Regarding food: I could be a few pounds lighter and still look healthy, so the less, the better. I have money saved in a rainy day novel writing piggy bank too, alongside an extra hunk of Swiss for Melbourne in the Spring as a grapepicker bunking on couches.


I've changed oil before. It's easy.

Dirty, but easy.

Twist, drain, wipe, twist, pour, and zoom zoom: another couple thousand miles of lubricated goodness for fluid mechanizations.

Three months is what I think I'll try; then it might be time to move on after that; but good, hard work, I am convinced, makes me a better person-in doses which aren't overwhelming, or monotonous.

Unlike others who say things like "we are going to die" and "we are fucked" I say why waste time acknowledging inevitability when we can exert the same energy into finding ways to be happy, surrounded by good people; by being a good person.

To me, happiness feels right. I'd rather dwell on that than declaring the fact that we're all doomed any day. But that's just me. I don't like to blatantly waste my time being nihilistic.


I know how to change brake pads too.

This helps me feel self-sufficient and tough.
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5 comments:

Glacial Spain said...
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Sabra Embury said...

Nihilists say the world is fucked and that we are all going to die. To me this is as redundant as saying things like we all eat food and take shits.

Glacial Spain said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Sabra Embury said...

I guess in a way, there's a lot of crappy everything out there, and always has been, depending on who you're asking. This to me is what sets the rift between masses as well as other blatant concepts trying to grasp themselves around something fundamental. Adding to a pile, people want to belong to something classic, modern, postmodern; they want to feel like they're not wasting their time, like they're smarter than most other people, monkeys who want to seem the most sophisticated because they smaer shit with a paint brush instead of throwing it to mark territory, or out of anger, to vent their emotions.

Nihilists don't give a flying fuck about anything. I think there are plenty of people like that, as well as people who worry too much about everything as well. Both things stem from a sense of helplessness in a world filled with chaos. This is why nihilism and existentialism share a fine line.

Glacial Spain said...
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