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02.09.09
8:08 PM, Tuesday
August 3rd, 2004:
Not really sure
how to put my finger on it, but there's something
wildly strange about building your own bachelor
pad...especially when you're not incredibly thrilled
about the prospect. You're filled with all these
emotions and stresses, yet you just keep nailing. I
think this must've been what Blood Sweat & Tears
went through thus inspiring their namesake. Yeah, I'm
sure of it. They were building the subflooring to the
room that would signify their divorce. They smacked
their finger a few times, and got all the bodily
fluids in on the action.
You think about it
with every hammer of a nail and every cut of wood.
That and I'm trying to save money by not buying a
circular saw...and my dull hand saw is barely making
it through. I don't know how I did it
yesterday boy. I was crying for a different reason as
I was trying to finish up the notches to raise the
floor. I'd say it has something to do with me
approaching 30, but it doesn't. It has something to do
with me not working out. 20 cuts through a 2 x 4 with
what amounts to a kitchen knife will kick your butt
pretty good.
Oh and when did 2
x 4's stop being 2 inches by 4 inches? Did they just
steadily rip people off over time and no one noticed?
It's 1 1/2 by 3 1/2 inches. Weak. An 8 foot 2 x 4 is
$3.21 if you were wondering. I thought that was a
pretty decent price. What the fuck am I typing this
for?
So back to how
weird this is. I sit there with the pups in this
lonely old garage and I'm...transforming it. It's the
construction equivalent of keeping a stiff upper-lip.
And that's what we all do really. In any divorce you
have to just "get it done"...but usually that means
just moving out. There's something, and again I just
can't put my finger on it, that is just deep
about actually constructing your new home. You know?
Like if this was 2000 years ago and you split
up...you'd most likely have to BUILD your next
pad. Speaking of which...tangent again:
What the FUCK did
Jesus use for tools? I mean seriously. He was a
carpenter...with what? A rock and a tree? Did they
have nails then? I guess that was after the iron
age so yeah... I mean, big-ass rocks and some
sort of cement-like mixture was pretty much all that
was around...so was that carpentry? Maybe just making
a table or some shit. And where's that movie? I want
to see that part of his life, screw the
miracles. I want to see Jesus with a hard-hat
whistlin' at the ladies. There seriously needs to be a
modern day "story-of-Jesus" movie shot with him as a
construction worker. That would rule.
Heh,
so yeah - building this room is kind of
the strangest thing I've ever felt.
I have to mention Shizzle in all this
though. That dog is attached to me at the
hip more than any animal I've ever had.
I can be hammering
a piece of
wood
2 feet from his head and that's fine by
him. In the garage of all places where it
physically hurts your ears because the
reverberation is so loud. If I go to
the shed to get a tool...he'll follow me,
then follow me back to the garage while
I pound away. He's just completely at
peace as long as he's hanging out with
me.
Roxy on the other
hand is a girl. Pounding noise? "I'll be sleeping in
the cool kitchen thank you very much". If anything is
even remotely uncomfortable to her dainty physique it
ain't happenin'. I must say the attachment to these
animals is creepin' up into J-Dog territory, and
I have a feeling that in the next couple of
months, they will mean the world to me. I hate to
allow myself to get that attached because the pain of
losing J-Dog is still with me. And whereas he was an
independent journeyman that I still believe in my
heart is out there catching mice, and charming food
and shelter from ladies in the neighborhood, these
dogs depend on me and Jess with every fiber of their
being. I feel a responsibility to them that is
parental in every sense but biological. So it adds
even more to the construction of this room that by its
existence...I am afforded the luxury of keeping
these dogs. Selling the house and getting an apartment
would mean giving them up. Keeping the actual
investment of the house is the #1 reason for all this,
but not losing them ranks pretty high on that scale as
well.
So on Thursday
I'll be putting in the wall, the plywood and patching
up the drywall and moving a few steps closer to my
independent life. It is a process that splits my heart
in two with each step. And I think that's what I'm
trying to put my finger on. I'm torn up inside. It's
the story of my life really. Creating through the
pain. It's symbolic of why I'm willing to sarifice
every known comfort just to continue this Journey.
I'll hammer those nails well past the blisters and
bruised fingers (I swear I've hit the knuckles on my
left index finger twice per 2x4) because it's part of
the process. This may not be a song, a video, or a
show...but when I've completed this I'll actually live
inside my creation. It just feels intensely deep and
meaningful to me. I am an artist. I have been my
whole life, and I'm actually embracing that now. I'm
realizing that there truly is no other choice.
It's just so rare
to have to come face to face with this. How often are
we made to define ourselves in an instant?
I mentioned that in the song last entry. "You
usually don't have to prove your art..." What
I meant was just that: When are you ever forced
so clearly to make that choice? Not only giving up a
career and coming out to LA., but to actually
sacrifice a pretty goddamn happy marriage to further
it - and not for a successful career mind you! Simply
to say: "I am an artist, and following this is what
I do". Fuckin' shit that is heavy. There's no
turnin' back there. I instantly become a
"lifer" at that moment. It impacts me
forever.
