Changing subject, It occurs to me how important it is to like oneself. When one is alone with ones thoughts one must consider both shortcomings and strengths. Strengths are rewarded in this world so that is good, right? Ones limitations also define a person in the same way as positive and negative space create a design. Here’s a truism: Be grateful of things you can do and not resentful of things you can’t do. The classic argument about innate talent is bull. If one is physically healthy with determination one can accomplish a high level of excellence in any discipline one desires. People use it as an excuse why not to follow their passion. Certainly some are born with advantages. Some are born geniuses. Many take these advantages for granite so they lose their opportunity by not using their ‘talents’. Those who are not geniuses can succeed to high levels with practice and persistence. This is what I believe. Its up to you to decide what success is. In the end, one must be happy with oneself. It’s not enough to have a fan club if one doesn’t believe in ones self. I’m trying to recognize destructive self-doubt when it comes about. Fear needs to be isolated and challenged.
Having a few hours here and there to think, create, dream and sort is starting up those life questions again. Damn! Thought those were suppressed.
For one thing, it would help if I talk faster. People love to talk. They use any and all air time available. I get pushed out of conversations so often. Everything is a fricking competition. Finding a parking place, a camp site, a few words edgewise. People like to hear themselves talk. Admit it. Why can’t there be open space? Quiet spots in a conversation? Same effect as a roundabout. So much talk is non-stop nuerotic yakity-yak. Two or more people and I either walk or listen if it’s interesting. I’m not naming names, but really people! This phenomenon more frequently evident with women (not pc). Conversations should carry musical accents of empty space. Use non-talking time to listen to others and edit yourself. Also, stop trying so hard to be funny please. And also, do a sound check when speaking as many people talk like they are at a rock concert where-ever they are. If someone is standing 3 feet away use appropriate volume of speaking voice. We are co-existing here. Some of you attention whores are pigging up the air waves with conversational bulldozing. Ha Ha, you can’t interrupt this soapbox pitch. Doing my best to make it a better world.
I’m noticing a letter “Y” (why?) appearing on my forehead. It appears to be blood vessels in a bluish color under the skin. It’s been there my entire 59 years so why do I notice the Y now and why not before? Questions.
The Why (Y) on my forehead is as perfect a tattoo as I could conger for myself.
I’ll sketch a tattoo design based on Y. (Double entendre is necessary for any tattoo I would consider) Drew up a tattoo design 15 years ago using letter D as initial take off point. I liked it and used it as a logo, embroidered on hats and merchandise, but never used as a tattoo (glad I didn’t as I’ve tired of that image). I had someone request to use it as a tatoo (I gave thumbs up). The letter Y is much more appropriate. The Y is like a road that splits two opposing directions and one must forever decide which way next.
It also suggests a philosophy of questioning.
Last night I went to the Sea Hag Bar and Grill. Four people at bar and when I walked in they didn’t notice. Took a seat at the end where I could glance at TV. I ordered an IPA
from the surprised bartender who was very surprised to see me or anyone walk through the door. He was animated, friendly young bartender. He reminded me of Portuguese friend Manual.
His eyes were bright. Advised me on a few local Ilwaco sites to visit. The 2 lighthouses and a secret beach.
I was sketching my tattoo design contentedly and overhearing drunken fishermen bar talk when a young man sat down near me. He talked loud, brazen, a little fast (meth?) and voice deep to bartend. One man fell off his bar stool, grunting, face red and chaotic arms flailing. He wasn’t embarrassed since he was too drunk. His friend helped him back up on stool and they ordered another drink. He blamed the stool. In Seattle they would have cut him off and kicked him out in a second. Dorothy we’re not in the Emerald City anymore.
The young man laughed at commotion and asked, “you a pool player?”.
I wanted some interaction so I said yes, “though not very good”. He claimed to be no good too. It occurred this could be start of a hustle. He reminded me of the con Neal Cassady as portrayed by Jack Kerouac in On the Road. Dick was quick, flashy, exciting, drop-dead handsome just as Neal. Our game was interrupted a few times with his cigarette breaks outside but I was on a streak and sunk the 8 with two of his balls left. Quite happy with my game since most of the time straight shots do not drop. Bit of conversation between shots. His name: Dick. (really?) “Thought you said you weren’t any good” he said. “I have my moments” I return.
Ordered another IPA. Dick started asking personal questions. Told him some of what he wanted to know. Dick said he wanted financing for: a book of jokes collected from bars all across America with photo and name of jokester. I suggested he find financing on the internet. I asked him for a sample joke but he instead told me how the Coast Guard and captain booted him off fishing boat so he’s here. Dick says captain threatened to throw him overboard for washing a pot incorrectly so he lost control and shouted in cap’n face for an hour. He says he collected all knives on board and was waving them around. Sounds crazy. (Red flag. Get away!) I decided Dick was a bit of a mess and not to encourage him. He has 5 kids from different mothers. He thought it funny when I asked him to stop making people. We went outside and smoked a joint. Said good byes around midnight. Just a mile back to campsite. Interesting night.