remodel

the locals call it june gloom: overcast for two weeks straight, ocean all chopped up, today's wind making it feel more like berlin than southern california, replete with dogcrap on the sidewalks, but with the added addition of the roaring planes seemingly ready to strafe my house from their rising birdseye view of it

it is day eight of the eight-day work run, and i am in that gnarly place familiar to crewmembers, where sheer caffeinated aggression channeled through a grimacing smile will have any hope of getting one through the day, that is if you don't accidentally smash out all of the large front windows of the store first

today is the first day i feel the full regret of moving here, leaving behind people who liked me, a cush work schedule and the rest, but i've left and returned to new mexico so many times i am not even considering the option of returning, bringing up instead the question of where to next?

if i stay with tj, i'd think it would be portland, but the when makes no sense, since i'll have to put in a year or so here before another transfer would seem legit, and by then i'll surely be deeper in the radical impatience of this midlife crisis, wanting desperately to manifest one of these lingering dreams before it rots on the vine of mediocrity and old age

which leads me to conclude that despite having the best job left in the destroyed economy of a hollowing-out empire, the time is now to try and manifest these idiotic pipe dreams i hold

even if it means once again kicking out the windows of this useless sensitive persona i've evolved, and instead becoming a karma-wielding plastic shaman, with a used-car salesman-spiel, and dollar signs pinned to my tantric sarong

or otherwise become one of these shell-eyed drifters on newport avenue, wandering hand outstretched from beach to coffeeshop, the bedroll betraying knowledge of some secret semi-safe hiding-hole

under june gloom