Sitting here before you today, I’m a few days out from a night’s sleep during which I woke up from a dead sleep sobbing not once, but three times. Stress is a funny thing, and something that’s extremely difficult to shake. The reasons for the rocky slumber are great in number, but I suspect the foundation for at least some of them were a Friday morning conversation with my tax lady regarding my finances, which sent me down a winding rabbit hole of visions of destitution, and agonizing loneliness.
In response, I made a declaration regarding the sale of any paintings I’ve made that previously I didn’t want to let go of. Like for example, the tribute I made for Buddy just after he died;
Some people have expressed interest in it, which I appreciate very much. Just the same, the thought of letting it go breaks my heart. I’m kinda between a rock and a hard place though, and have to just remember that at best, I have three or four decades left on this planet, and it’s likely that these paintings, as well as the other things I’ve assigned such value to are not only not going to go with me, but likely to wind up in the trash, so why not let them go now?
I suppose the emotional connection that I’m struggling to release is wholly related to a life that it would seem I no longer have. I desperately miss the consistency and security, and though I’ve tried with everything I have to embrace the uncertainty of tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and so on, the truth of the matter is that right now I’m scared, and unbelievably sad.
DeMonika told me shortly before my departure in June that I didn’t possess the ability to dream. To dream about a bigger life, or possible adventures beyond what I might be able to financially afford. I lived too small, she’d often tell me, and to a degree, I guess she was right but that’s not to say my life wasn’t one without dreams. Having grown up with two parents who loved each other very much, in a home that was consistent and safe, it occurred to me that the only dream that was a constant was having a partner who loved me and a safe place to live. I’m not a terribly complex person, and I’ve never needed much, but that’s something that has been foundational.
The closer I get to returning to the Bay Area, and possibly being confronted with a reality consisting of neither of those things, the more unglued I become. Ideally, I would just snap my fingers and never return, because to be perfectly honest, I just can’t face the sadness of the dissection and extraction of my existence from it.
I don’t know what I’m going to do, and at least right now, the thought of an unknown tomorrow is too hard.
Relating to selling visual fodder, I also have made an offer to make random little watercolor postcards like these for just $25.00 bucks a piece;
I have a Pay Pal address that looks like stevil(at)allhailtheblackmarket(dot)com, if anyone might like a piece of custom mail, the purchase of which would help fund a few more miles down the road.
Now, I suppose because this is a douchebag bike blog, (same diff), I should shine a momentary light on some technology of which it’s very possible I’m the last person to be aware;
This here is a rack that’s made by a company called Küat, and while I’ve long been familiar with the brand, I can’t believe it took me this long to find out that their hitch racks come with a F-ING INTEGRATED WORK STAND;
Did everyone know about this? I feel like I’m the guy who’s discussing all the cool things I saw at the bike trade show two months ago, when suddenly I come to find out that the one coolest thing that everyone saw was the one cool thing I didn’t see, and in fact dwarfs all the cool stuff I saw, thereby making all of what I saw totally uncool.
I mean, when I picked up my camper a few months ago, DPow! and I were trying to figure a way to mount a work stand arm onto a bracket that was bolted onto the side of it, and all kinds of other claptrap cockamamie ideas. Had I known such an explosion of inspiration existed, I would have traded in my existing rack in a New York minute.
Anyway, my Moab hosts (Joe and Laura from Soulrun, natch) have them and love them, and it seemed only right to include a plug for the company, as well as the best innovation in rack technology since the swing hitch.
Having said all of that, the adventures among the rocks continued;
And not as though you needed one, but here’s a quick reminder that human beings are trash;
Oh, would you like to take a petroglyph home with you?
Sure, that seems pretty reasonable.
Artifacts for everybody.
And here was a fun exchange I had over the weekend, when I happened to run into this fella, whose name is Efrem;
He is my screen printer, and besides slapping hands and catching up a bit, he said that he would happily give me terms so that I could place another order of the Respect Women shirts before my return so that I could beef up the inventory. So to any folks who’ve reached out asking for information, they’ll be back in stock sooner than I have been anticipating.
As always, thank you for your time and consideration on this matter.
Anyway, moving on…
Having said all of that, and in conclusion, by the time today’s post is published, I’ll be on my way to somewhere else. Maybe southern Utah, or perhaps Arizona. One thing is certain, as long as the pressure’s chasing, there’s a better than good chance that I’ll continue to run.