The Walking Wounded

First off, I encourage you both to subscribe to our video channel. That way you can follow our w̶i̶t̶   w̶i̶s̶d̶o̶m̶   i̶n̶t̶e̶l̶l̶i̶g̶e̶n̶c̶e̶  errrrrrrrrr, existence(?) in a media that requires no reading, thought processes, concentration, or trips to the dictionary. It's a win - win situation, except for the overall intelligence of the species, which generally isn't doing so well with it's imagined mandate to protect the planet. Someday we will deliver the pap people want. Just as soon as we find that girl in the bikini who can talk incessantly and vapidly to the masses. We're looking, honest.

​We just had an election here in the U.S. and, as usual, the half of the population that said that they would move out of the country if the other guy won decided to stay. That's comforting.

​​Ben tells me that I do not write the way I talk. Maybe because the way I talk mostly consists of epithets and ejaculations concerning sexual preferences, bodily functions and ancestry of canines precipitated by the miscues of boat building. It is rarely a contemplative Zen like experience requiring calmness and perspicacity. It is more the embodiment of quasi-controlled chaos.

Now Budge fell off a step stool. Chunked his chin on a tool. These step stools require caution. Luckily his face was there to catch him before he fell too far. Too bad that tool was in the way. At this moment Budge is sporting a triad of stitches, Ben a sore ankle. and me an aching knee from falls. I have also been wearing bandaids from chisel cuts for the past week, Be careful out there, fellow boat builders.  

The weather this week was mostly raininess. Ben worked on ebay and video games. I worked on small stuff. We placed one motor box in place and went back to concentrated inactivity.

My week was fiddling with hatch handles mostly

More complex than necessary. The overall concept of this boat generally is shabby chic. I am incorporating bits of old boats into the overall matrix of the new/old heritage of the boat. much is made up; found objects. 

Forward hatch handles, patina intact, from maybe an old tug that stretches back and drags the past into the now and put back to use. 

We hitched up the starboard motor box with ratchet straps and dragged the stairs over and positioned the port motor box. They're close. Much to work out: battery box, side decks, center deck.

​If it seems to you that we didn't do much this week, you're absolutely correct. We didn't. I am writing this on Friday instead of Saturday, which will be wasted attending a beer fest and watching Gogol Bordello.

Wait...................that's not wasted. Gogol was fantastic. Think hyper energetic eastern European gypsy punk rock with a sound system like a defibrillator that you could feel in your bones and hair follicles. Where the woman behind us told the guy next to me "Get out of the way or I'll fucking kill you". Always willing to defer to the fairer sex, we moved. We sampled beers and hard ciders. The current trend in beer seems to be getting the alcohol percentage high enough so that it can also act as a paint stripper. A good time was had by all.

The Music♪: Leonard Cohen "Hey That's No Way to Say Goodbye"

Now Leonard..........entwined in the increasingly threadbare fabric my life................Thanks for the Music.

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