get your rocks off
Learnin'.
It's a part of livin'.
I have spent the past few days back in Tacoma helping some friends out on a home improvement project. They recently bought a house and it was in need of some remodeling so they asked a bunch of comics if they would come and help them out. The majority of the work is demolition, which appeals to the darker side of man's soul. Comics are all dark souled individuals so you would think they would have climbed all over themselves to get in on the action.
I am the only comic that showed up. A statement of my character? Or a statement about the laziness of the comics in this general area?
So the crew that showed up is made up of the man of the house(the husband), the wife and one 19 year former weight lifting champion. Her name is Abby. She's a friend of the family.
The first day of work was fence removal(chain link and six foot rough cedar panel) and some trash pick up and it kicked my ass. Abby apparently didn't know what she had gotten herself into with all this work, but she was a sport about it. She faced her fear of spiders to get the job done and that's all you can ask of someone under these circumstances. The husband and wife disappeared midway through the first day and only reappeared after a three hour absence. This left Abby and me to do the majority of the work and we looked like death when 5 o'clock rolled around.
The second day the crew grew to a full staff of three young men, Abby, the husband and myself. The wife backed out and decided that instead of laboring hard in the yard that she would rather go work out... Power lifting. Abby gave in and went with her. This left me with three boys and the husband for the hardest work of the demolition - the concrete removal.
Supervising young men who are working in miserable conditions is a job in and of itself. You're not their boss, but you are trying to keep them focused on getting the job done. You also have to keep their minds on the job to keep them safe for their own good, which is an issue that they constantly want to argue with you. You're trying to keep them busy, teach them how to use dangerous equipment(which they love) and keep them motivated on getting a difficult job done without walking away. Their attitudes aren't ideal for this kind of heavy demolition, but you need them to do the little shit work that generally slows down the whole process if the jackhammer operator has to stop and do it.
The work on the second day was almost completely cement removal. One jackhammer, one pry bar and three wheelbarrels. Two old men and three young indestructible youths all in a constant state of frenetic motion. We look like angry ants after their ant hill was wiped off the earth by a malicious sneaker. I'm on the jackhammer because I am the only one that has used one before. The husband is on the pry bar and the boys are removal. Periodically, I let one of the boys run the jackhammer so they feel like they have fucked something up, a feeling all boys enjoy.
Early in the day, I am cutting out large chunks of concrete for the boys to drag out. It's killing them and I can tell that it's wearing them out. It seems to be taking more and more time for them to return after dumping a load off. I blame their dip in energy on a lack of enthusiasm and I caught myself resenting their presence. It's an old habit that I carry around about equality on the job front. I'm sure many of you hate the fact that there is someone where you work that does less or is incompetent, and they get paid more. It's a painful and childish feeling to get angry and I am working on getting beyond it. It was good that it showed up during all this crazy work. I was forced to forget about my personal problem and get back to the job.
I gave up the control of the jackhammer to one of the boys and I started carrying the chunks of freshly cut up concrete to the wheelbarrel and then out to the dumpster. After a few moments (four minutes, thirty-two seconds) I started hating concrete and that bastard kid for cutting the pieces so small. My back was going out, I was overheating, I was cutting myself up and I could barely stand to be alive...
So I took the jackhammer back and sent the kid back to the miserable job. However, this time around, I noticed that I was cutting the pieces smaller than I had before. The only reason I mention this is because I could now see why the kids were so hard to motivate before - I was killing them with my huge chunks of concrete. I was making less work for me and more work for them. All of my best intentions were being undermined by... ME!
The young boys left at midday and the job of demolition fell squarely on the shoulders of two middle-aged men. We did all we could but we ran out of places to put the chunks of refuse, so we moved on to the REAL demolition that we had been saving for last - a small shack that needed to come down.
It took some thought, but we faked it, and that building came down by sheer force of will. Having conquered the achievement and pride of someone's hard work of twenty years ago, we stood around like Gods and felt good about ourselves in a low class kind of way. My mind was lost in the rapture of my efforts but my body felt differently. It's the same dynamic someone who just dug his way out of prison must feel. Nothing but your pride and your visions of the future, feel good.
The day ended and my crippled body made it's way home, crawled into a tub and fell asleep as soon as I hit the water.
The final day of the destruction found me just working with the husband. Everything on my body hurt so badly that I couldn't even close my fingers to make a fist or bend my knees to sit on a toilet or find the strength to get back up off the toilet when I finished. It's just pure pain everywhere. He feels the same and we look like two over-weight palsey victims, wearing plaid and trying to look cool. You would never know that these two giants were responsible for the destruction of a small shack just the day before.
We decided that this would be a good day to run the chain saw...
Chain saw operation requires some strength, a good grip, some ability to hold a heavy vibrating object for long periods of time at arms length and some technical gripping and pulling ability. None of this I have. He doesn't want to try.
Another key component of chain saw use is leg strength. When you cut down a tree, it's important that you're not standing below it or your labor might fall and crush you. Running away is often the best way to guarantee that this doesn't happen. Having crippled legs is a bad thing... But I love using a chain saw and I can't go from conqueror to submissive in 24 hours. I will admit that I screamed like Patrick Bateman while using the chain saw. I did it for effect, and I did it to keep my mind off the pain.
I lasted half the day before my body quit. However, in that time,I downed every tree in sight and a few that didn't require a two foot chain saw to bring down. I chopped everything into tiny little pieces and then, covered in sawdust... I crawled home.
This I know - for the record - When it's your turn to cut rocks, cut them into sizes that you would carry. When working with young men, make them believe what they are doing will get them home or laid. When in pain, the only path to pleasure is a more determinate painful trek. Your pride and your glory is another man's weekend headache.
It's a part of livin'.
I have spent the past few days back in Tacoma helping some friends out on a home improvement project. They recently bought a house and it was in need of some remodeling so they asked a bunch of comics if they would come and help them out. The majority of the work is demolition, which appeals to the darker side of man's soul. Comics are all dark souled individuals so you would think they would have climbed all over themselves to get in on the action.
I am the only comic that showed up. A statement of my character? Or a statement about the laziness of the comics in this general area?
So the crew that showed up is made up of the man of the house(the husband), the wife and one 19 year former weight lifting champion. Her name is Abby. She's a friend of the family.
The first day of work was fence removal(chain link and six foot rough cedar panel) and some trash pick up and it kicked my ass. Abby apparently didn't know what she had gotten herself into with all this work, but she was a sport about it. She faced her fear of spiders to get the job done and that's all you can ask of someone under these circumstances. The husband and wife disappeared midway through the first day and only reappeared after a three hour absence. This left Abby and me to do the majority of the work and we looked like death when 5 o'clock rolled around.
The second day the crew grew to a full staff of three young men, Abby, the husband and myself. The wife backed out and decided that instead of laboring hard in the yard that she would rather go work out... Power lifting. Abby gave in and went with her. This left me with three boys and the husband for the hardest work of the demolition - the concrete removal.
Supervising young men who are working in miserable conditions is a job in and of itself. You're not their boss, but you are trying to keep them focused on getting the job done. You also have to keep their minds on the job to keep them safe for their own good, which is an issue that they constantly want to argue with you. You're trying to keep them busy, teach them how to use dangerous equipment(which they love) and keep them motivated on getting a difficult job done without walking away. Their attitudes aren't ideal for this kind of heavy demolition, but you need them to do the little shit work that generally slows down the whole process if the jackhammer operator has to stop and do it.
The work on the second day was almost completely cement removal. One jackhammer, one pry bar and three wheelbarrels. Two old men and three young indestructible youths all in a constant state of frenetic motion. We look like angry ants after their ant hill was wiped off the earth by a malicious sneaker. I'm on the jackhammer because I am the only one that has used one before. The husband is on the pry bar and the boys are removal. Periodically, I let one of the boys run the jackhammer so they feel like they have fucked something up, a feeling all boys enjoy.
Early in the day, I am cutting out large chunks of concrete for the boys to drag out. It's killing them and I can tell that it's wearing them out. It seems to be taking more and more time for them to return after dumping a load off. I blame their dip in energy on a lack of enthusiasm and I caught myself resenting their presence. It's an old habit that I carry around about equality on the job front. I'm sure many of you hate the fact that there is someone where you work that does less or is incompetent, and they get paid more. It's a painful and childish feeling to get angry and I am working on getting beyond it. It was good that it showed up during all this crazy work. I was forced to forget about my personal problem and get back to the job.
I gave up the control of the jackhammer to one of the boys and I started carrying the chunks of freshly cut up concrete to the wheelbarrel and then out to the dumpster. After a few moments (four minutes, thirty-two seconds) I started hating concrete and that bastard kid for cutting the pieces so small. My back was going out, I was overheating, I was cutting myself up and I could barely stand to be alive...
So I took the jackhammer back and sent the kid back to the miserable job. However, this time around, I noticed that I was cutting the pieces smaller than I had before. The only reason I mention this is because I could now see why the kids were so hard to motivate before - I was killing them with my huge chunks of concrete. I was making less work for me and more work for them. All of my best intentions were being undermined by... ME!
The young boys left at midday and the job of demolition fell squarely on the shoulders of two middle-aged men. We did all we could but we ran out of places to put the chunks of refuse, so we moved on to the REAL demolition that we had been saving for last - a small shack that needed to come down.
It took some thought, but we faked it, and that building came down by sheer force of will. Having conquered the achievement and pride of someone's hard work of twenty years ago, we stood around like Gods and felt good about ourselves in a low class kind of way. My mind was lost in the rapture of my efforts but my body felt differently. It's the same dynamic someone who just dug his way out of prison must feel. Nothing but your pride and your visions of the future, feel good.
The day ended and my crippled body made it's way home, crawled into a tub and fell asleep as soon as I hit the water.
The final day of the destruction found me just working with the husband. Everything on my body hurt so badly that I couldn't even close my fingers to make a fist or bend my knees to sit on a toilet or find the strength to get back up off the toilet when I finished. It's just pure pain everywhere. He feels the same and we look like two over-weight palsey victims, wearing plaid and trying to look cool. You would never know that these two giants were responsible for the destruction of a small shack just the day before.
We decided that this would be a good day to run the chain saw...
Chain saw operation requires some strength, a good grip, some ability to hold a heavy vibrating object for long periods of time at arms length and some technical gripping and pulling ability. None of this I have. He doesn't want to try.
Another key component of chain saw use is leg strength. When you cut down a tree, it's important that you're not standing below it or your labor might fall and crush you. Running away is often the best way to guarantee that this doesn't happen. Having crippled legs is a bad thing... But I love using a chain saw and I can't go from conqueror to submissive in 24 hours. I will admit that I screamed like Patrick Bateman while using the chain saw. I did it for effect, and I did it to keep my mind off the pain.
I lasted half the day before my body quit. However, in that time,I downed every tree in sight and a few that didn't require a two foot chain saw to bring down. I chopped everything into tiny little pieces and then, covered in sawdust... I crawled home.
This I know - for the record - When it's your turn to cut rocks, cut them into sizes that you would carry. When working with young men, make them believe what they are doing will get them home or laid. When in pain, the only path to pleasure is a more determinate painful trek. Your pride and your glory is another man's weekend headache.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 10:02 PM
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