The Big Crunch

Alright. Today is almost Monday and I am at an undisclosed location, spitting distance from the Pacific in one of the less hectic areas of the city. I do this a lot because, I don't know, it works out like that. Hospitable friends that are like family.

So, I have to be at rendezvous O in the resort type place where I can swim when the day is over. One of the perks of the job. I have to say, I very much like working there. I have no explanation for it except that it may involve something to do with beauty, freedom, and who knows what. It is not a status job, but who can even define my job? I can't. I be me and piddle around with things and make things better when I see the need and it is agreed. Usually, people agree.

OK. I have to be there tomorrow because there are other subs coming in to fix the broken thing that God only knows how the King and his concubine manage to break it. He is gone now and no telling when he or members of his court will return. Good thing about kings is that they often have enough money to keep people like me going, and they don't quibble. That is why I fear this talk coming from truly greedy rich people like Kennedy and Obama and others regarding "the rich" as if they are bad. Dammit, we are all better off if the rich stay rich or get richer. They spend that stuff like crazy.

The trouble is, I have only until Thursday to get my ballistic bachelor pad clean and sparkling. It is only one gigantic room, which is not that gigantic. Even so, you'd be surprised how many hours of thought meditation and despondency can go into a job like that, l;et alone the time it takes to actually perform the task. I'd say a month is barely adequate.

The problem was made a little worse when the blue car bit the dust. It was heavily loaded, I now realize, with tools, buckets full of secret teak techno things, and numerous heavy drop cloths and tarps. I heart heavy cotton canvas drop cloths.

Now my house is full of all those things, boxes, etc., plus dust dirt, blood stains I probably missed as I walked around bleeding on the floor and did not know it for awhile. A lot of it has glass bits from the wreck. Every time I move something I find bits of glass from my dearly departed car that was my favorite car of all time. Even more favorite than the '69 Datsun 1600 roadster which transported me from life in Florida to a new world in North Carolina. One should not love things. But a good car that suits you is a pleasure.

Oh boy, clean the stupid house and I have never cleaned the windows or blinds. I should do it because they may have accumulated some dust, considering that dust is the number one element in those hills. Then I have to think about washing clothes.

The lengths to which a crazy guy will go, just so a possible visitor doesn't think he is the slacker he is, well it is something. I'm just glad I actually give a damn. I'd shut off a part of myself for so long, I was almost worried. Not that worried. Not as worried as the thought of cleaning house makes me.

I'll probably get it done on Thursday, then Friday I will have a clear conscience. Due to the nature of things, no telling if the visiting dignitary will even get out there. I'll be the chauffeur so I guess kidnapping is an option. Another adventure.

When you think about it, things are good. I have a house to clean up, a visiting dignitary who just might want to go there and check out my didgeridoo, and I have no idea how the visit will unfold anyway due to all the myriad of factors. That is often the case with VIPs. Probably better, in my case, not to have advance notice of a set itinerary. That sort of structure would really make me nervous.

I'm almost official. All I'm waiting for is Ahnold to mail me my regular driver's license. In the mean time, I am driving on a paper that is temporary something or other. When it arrives I'll start calling everyone "Dude" and become very concerned about the earth and people smoking in public parks and such.