...rollin'.

 Packin’ up, haulin’ ass and diggin’ in. It’s a pattern man, a reoccurring chain of events that has been regurgitating itself for years. Now it’s become serious…when I split from one piece of ground to another I can do it in grand style. No packin’ or forethought I just got to unplug the house, turn the ignition, start the 440 and suddenly we ain’t in Kansas anymore. Poof, it’s like I never been there… I’m here now.

  There’s always a reason to leave no matter what you’re leavin’ in. You sacrifice something when you leave, good ol’ country relaxin’ for work, weeping willow trees and overlooking the mountains for a chain link fence and a view of the Circle “K”. Drastic changes occur but you just have to have a good reason to leave and a future plan.

  I was feeling comfortable in the digs I was parked in for well over a year but I felt myself becoming complacent, stagnant if you are so inclined, things had to change. It was never my intention to stay here anyway but leavin’ is a bit of a shock to the system. I’ve only moved a mile or two up the road but where I stopped is in town, just like all the other towns I found myself in.

  Fuck it man, at least it ain’t a ghetto, just the industrial section of a small town…trees are a comin’ as soon as I get ahead of this painting thing. A few years ago this would be a dream come true, I’m just dreamin’ different now.

  I don’t know what has gottin’ into me as of late but painting and making a living off of it seems to be what is drivin’ me. I’ve been driven by other things in the past but this is something that I ain’t fightin’. It’s a lot like an addiction but not as detrimental as most. It’s an addiction I can live with. Just like bikes, this is something that is actually improving my life, I think…if I had one…a life that is.

  I’m in a thick of it now, I’m in the middle of another day that will surely end up being another 10 plus hour day slingin’ paint. Time flies when things are like this and when you’re done you end up staring at something that was in your head for a while before the painting process even starts. Some of these things I see are cool and others are things that you would have rathered not have in your head in the first place. Case in point something that has been hiding in the shadows of your consciousness suddenly big as life and following your every move with eyes that you have painted. Creepy as fuck when you don’t expect it and you never do.

  But such is the life that I apparently chose. I ain’t bitchin’ but I wish I put this time and effort into my own comfort, that’s something that always seems to be put on the back burner…but I’m getting better at it. I have a roof, a stable studio, a bike that runs more often than not. Things are far from bad but the grass is always greener…somewhere…no matter what your own personal landing pad looks like.

  The first night I was here it rained cats and dogs bringing along a cold front that hung like snot from an unkept child’s nose. The next day was gloomy and cold.

  The weather was for shit and I just walked the few yards to my studio and spent the next twelve hours painting and getting’ stoned with the little weed I had left. By the end of the day my legs were sore and on the easel was a painting that was no more than a day away from being done. The miserable day was only miserable outside. Being well insulated, the studio got no lower than 60 degrees. A few minutes with a small heater and it got up to seventy and stayed there…even when I turned the heater off.  Once I get the woodstove piped in it should be nice and toasty for the winter months.

  There’s no sewage dump or water hook up for the Hamsteak but the studio has a full bath with a shower. It’s going to take some getting used to living half in the studio and the other in the RV,the RV now just being a place that isn’t in the studio which is a nice place to stop painting,read and sleep.

  I’m only living here for a short period of time while I gut and rebuild the interior of the ‘steak and make it something set up for one skinny old fuck and his one eyed dog. With a bit of work I can really set it up for me and maybe a guest to hang comfortably.  I don’t need much and it’s not like I have a gaggle of friends that will staying the night so I can really open the place up.

   With intentions of not only having an old RV to live in but something really functional and impressive I might be able to get a bit of the old ‘how do you do?’ from the random cutie that I can get into the back of my mobile crime scene.  It’s not going to take much to make it something cool aside from the improvements I want to make to all the systems (water, insulation , etc) and with a bit of cash and work it should be ready for its next move to a place I have lined out back in the country in fairly short order.

  Maybe I’ll stay for the winter or maybe I’ll be done before that but I know when I am ready the place ought to be a little bit of all right. The big money has been funneled into the rig, now it’s just a matter of work and planning. I’m in a good place for the next move that’s for sure.

  This morning the sun was out again. I slept like a fuckin’ corpse and opened the door, lit a cigarette and drank a cup of coffee as Bud did her ‘yey!... the sun is back’ dance and flopping down on the warm concrete with a satisfied exhale air and a fart.

   I pulled up a chair next to her and read a book as I finished my coffee. A chapter or two later I was cleaning pallets and getting ready for another painting marathon that doesn’t even seem like work at all.

  Playin’ air guitar and jumpin’ around the studio as Bud passes judgment with her one good eye and a wag of her tail it’s going to be a good day. I’ll take as many of those as I can.   “GTP”