low frequency chuckles
NEVER, EVER do this at home!
It's been a while since I was in shape enough to handle any kind of manual labor. It's been a while since I last labored in the hot, hot sun. It's been a while since I last got up at 4 in the morning TWO DAYS in a row for any reason. It's been a while since I tried to stay up late, wake up early, work in the hot, hot sun all day and then stay up late, wake up early and work in the hot, hot sun all day... It's been a while.
So it's fair to say, that I am not in this world at the moment in neither mind or body. My body is lost. My mind, it's not worth mentioning.
The best news of the week was that my "runs" problem has given way to a less inconvientent, but far more embarassing, powerful gas. It's the kind of gas that terrifies grown men and usually signals an intestinal disease in cattle. At least with the runs, it was a personal and private matter, with gas.... Did I ever mention that me and two guys car pool everywhere in a truck cab that is only meant for two? They get to share in my new "problem". Nothing makes a better first impression on new coworkers than forcing them from the truck every ten minutes. It's okay, it gives them a chance to smoke.
My new environment has me returning to the soil, the dirt and the rawness of the blue collar world. I have been here before and I have enjoyed my experiences in the past and I have equally enjoyed most of the people I have met there. These people are usually colorful people filled with great stories, wonderful advice and terrible politics. Your first impression is one of a low life and someone who probably dropped out of elementary school and never looked back. That's everyone's first impression, but if you get the chance to learn the real story, you'll find your second impression of these people is one of awe. They are talented and their knowledge and skills far exceed your own. It shocks you that you know so little after all you have done, and how apparent it is that this person who loves to butcher the spoken word and get drunk at noon, actually did it right. It's hard to admit, but it's true. You view them as meek and truely, they shall inherit the earth. Your dumbass couldn't survive in most conditions, there dumbass could.
Each man is filled with amazing tales that are filled with rich details of strong drinking, hard fucking, dangerous fighting, wise words of advice that went unheeded by lesser men, great meals, buddy-of-mine's, gal-I-know's, mechanical modifications and once in a lifetime experiences. All of which are either near death experiences or are treated with a laize faire attitude. For example; "Me and a buddy of mine from way back, took a 350 engine and strapped it to this little Ford and took it out on the lake and watched all the fish come in my boat. I says to my buddy, HEY, don't do that with a quarter inch, and he says, Ah, you don't know nothin, and sure as shit, it went up like a rocket. I tried to tell em....."
My favorite thing about this people is that what ever happened to these men before this day is lost and life has moved on to this moment, this cigarette, this mid-morning beer and the next great story that needs to be told. They never think about the future, just the conversation they are having or what job they are doing. They are devout followers of the garage sale or get if free religion, and they are moral and ethical when it counts.
You don't even have to ask them their opinion. Barely a moment goes by where one of them isn't waxing on about a personal experience where they are a god among mortals, laughing at fate and insuring that their brand of decency prevails against all evil. The few moments of silence that occur are easily interrupted by merely mentioning.... Anything, or farting.
You could softly say; War - and a modestly toned, but ridiculously transparent one-sided conversation will occur. In this environment, everyone is American, loves America and believes in the simplicity of America. All outsiders are idiots, disgusting, fools, or enemies. It's in this world that racism, sexism and all other forms of "isms" are born. It's amazing to me that even with the depth of complexity that each of them feels is so present in their own lives, they will never believe that it could exist outside of their own bubble. America is power, money, right and white. Everything else is just, well.... Everything else.
I usually break the tension in these rants by opening my mouth and trying my best to be passive and non-threatening. It's a smart play for someone new to the job and filled with a rankness that even hardcore blue collars find offensive. My usually trick is to bring up movies. It's a great middle ground where polar extremes can meet in harmony and fun... Hopefully. There have been times where the debate over who is the better Bond has come to blows, but still, incidents are rare.
I already know the answer to my questions before I ask them, but I ask anyway because I can't bare to hear another story about riding a rocket into space using "specially made bottle rockets that you can't get anyWHERES but this one guy - a buddy a mine who builds that shit in his basement and (this story goes on in great detail too)....Anyways, I tied myself on to those rockets with some special straps that are..."
First question: What is your favorite movie OR What was the last good movie you saw?
Usually they answer from a list of commonly answered movies and I can chat it up a bit from there. In this case, CON AIR was the film of note. A rare answer, but it's on the list nonetheless. I tell them what I know and that keeps the atmosphere friendly for the day. My gas follows us home, but we are so tired at the end of the day, that we just don't care to stop. We just want to get home.
I have only had 8 hours of sleep in two days and I am near death. I am two steps away from my bed when I remember that I have a guest set/audition show that I need to do because I won't get the chance next week. SO I SUCK IT UP!!!!!
That show, done while I was sleeping, was great and I got the show. July 18... Jazzbones in Tacoma. The Right Reverend Daniel Rock will be laying it down, amen. I'm so tired by the time I get home, I sleep in my clothes. Never a great idea in an small apartment with no AC.
I still went to sleep with a smile on my face and a laugh in my heart. I went to sleep thinking of all the work in the warm sun and how funny everything has been up to this point: The timely heat. The timely runs. The perfect gas (they don't seem to mind my gas that much. They say they have had gas that makes my gas smell like roses). The comfort of working in the dirt and being able to smell it. The pain of listening to my coworkers rant and rave about American dominance while at the same time; using a Kubota dragon to dig holes, wearing jeans made in India, gloves made in Canada, safety glasses made in Mexico and using gas from Saudia Arabia. It's all worth listening to. It's all worth remembering.
It's been a while since I was in shape enough to handle any kind of manual labor. It's been a while since I last labored in the hot, hot sun. It's been a while since I last got up at 4 in the morning TWO DAYS in a row for any reason. It's been a while since I tried to stay up late, wake up early, work in the hot, hot sun all day and then stay up late, wake up early and work in the hot, hot sun all day... It's been a while.
So it's fair to say, that I am not in this world at the moment in neither mind or body. My body is lost. My mind, it's not worth mentioning.
The best news of the week was that my "runs" problem has given way to a less inconvientent, but far more embarassing, powerful gas. It's the kind of gas that terrifies grown men and usually signals an intestinal disease in cattle. At least with the runs, it was a personal and private matter, with gas.... Did I ever mention that me and two guys car pool everywhere in a truck cab that is only meant for two? They get to share in my new "problem". Nothing makes a better first impression on new coworkers than forcing them from the truck every ten minutes. It's okay, it gives them a chance to smoke.
My new environment has me returning to the soil, the dirt and the rawness of the blue collar world. I have been here before and I have enjoyed my experiences in the past and I have equally enjoyed most of the people I have met there. These people are usually colorful people filled with great stories, wonderful advice and terrible politics. Your first impression is one of a low life and someone who probably dropped out of elementary school and never looked back. That's everyone's first impression, but if you get the chance to learn the real story, you'll find your second impression of these people is one of awe. They are talented and their knowledge and skills far exceed your own. It shocks you that you know so little after all you have done, and how apparent it is that this person who loves to butcher the spoken word and get drunk at noon, actually did it right. It's hard to admit, but it's true. You view them as meek and truely, they shall inherit the earth. Your dumbass couldn't survive in most conditions, there dumbass could.
Each man is filled with amazing tales that are filled with rich details of strong drinking, hard fucking, dangerous fighting, wise words of advice that went unheeded by lesser men, great meals, buddy-of-mine's, gal-I-know's, mechanical modifications and once in a lifetime experiences. All of which are either near death experiences or are treated with a laize faire attitude. For example; "Me and a buddy of mine from way back, took a 350 engine and strapped it to this little Ford and took it out on the lake and watched all the fish come in my boat. I says to my buddy, HEY, don't do that with a quarter inch, and he says, Ah, you don't know nothin, and sure as shit, it went up like a rocket. I tried to tell em....."
My favorite thing about this people is that what ever happened to these men before this day is lost and life has moved on to this moment, this cigarette, this mid-morning beer and the next great story that needs to be told. They never think about the future, just the conversation they are having or what job they are doing. They are devout followers of the garage sale or get if free religion, and they are moral and ethical when it counts.
You don't even have to ask them their opinion. Barely a moment goes by where one of them isn't waxing on about a personal experience where they are a god among mortals, laughing at fate and insuring that their brand of decency prevails against all evil. The few moments of silence that occur are easily interrupted by merely mentioning.... Anything, or farting.
You could softly say; War - and a modestly toned, but ridiculously transparent one-sided conversation will occur. In this environment, everyone is American, loves America and believes in the simplicity of America. All outsiders are idiots, disgusting, fools, or enemies. It's in this world that racism, sexism and all other forms of "isms" are born. It's amazing to me that even with the depth of complexity that each of them feels is so present in their own lives, they will never believe that it could exist outside of their own bubble. America is power, money, right and white. Everything else is just, well.... Everything else.
I usually break the tension in these rants by opening my mouth and trying my best to be passive and non-threatening. It's a smart play for someone new to the job and filled with a rankness that even hardcore blue collars find offensive. My usually trick is to bring up movies. It's a great middle ground where polar extremes can meet in harmony and fun... Hopefully. There have been times where the debate over who is the better Bond has come to blows, but still, incidents are rare.
I already know the answer to my questions before I ask them, but I ask anyway because I can't bare to hear another story about riding a rocket into space using "specially made bottle rockets that you can't get anyWHERES but this one guy - a buddy a mine who builds that shit in his basement and (this story goes on in great detail too)....Anyways, I tied myself on to those rockets with some special straps that are..."
First question: What is your favorite movie OR What was the last good movie you saw?
Usually they answer from a list of commonly answered movies and I can chat it up a bit from there. In this case, CON AIR was the film of note. A rare answer, but it's on the list nonetheless. I tell them what I know and that keeps the atmosphere friendly for the day. My gas follows us home, but we are so tired at the end of the day, that we just don't care to stop. We just want to get home.
I have only had 8 hours of sleep in two days and I am near death. I am two steps away from my bed when I remember that I have a guest set/audition show that I need to do because I won't get the chance next week. SO I SUCK IT UP!!!!!
That show, done while I was sleeping, was great and I got the show. July 18... Jazzbones in Tacoma. The Right Reverend Daniel Rock will be laying it down, amen. I'm so tired by the time I get home, I sleep in my clothes. Never a great idea in an small apartment with no AC.
I still went to sleep with a smile on my face and a laugh in my heart. I went to sleep thinking of all the work in the warm sun and how funny everything has been up to this point: The timely heat. The timely runs. The perfect gas (they don't seem to mind my gas that much. They say they have had gas that makes my gas smell like roses). The comfort of working in the dirt and being able to smell it. The pain of listening to my coworkers rant and rave about American dominance while at the same time; using a Kubota dragon to dig holes, wearing jeans made in India, gloves made in Canada, safety glasses made in Mexico and using gas from Saudia Arabia. It's all worth listening to. It's all worth remembering.
posted by Daniel Loomis | 5:17 PM
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