Perhaps the boat shall die before getting there.
Perhaps the Buddha is already dead.
January 2014, Victoria Island or some such, rubber tramping through British Columbia.
Hit a parking bounded by snow as far as sight allowed.
You've probably seen folks (or been)making their living from trash bins & dumpsters.
This is already Holy & Difficult Work.
People who pull value from what is discarded, rather than steal are the goddamned children of Christ, and are going to judge everyone of us fuckers too scared or needy to do so, when everything is reduced to molten fucking reality..
Anyways..
He wasn't aqualung from the Jethro Tull album cover, at all, but..
He was scroungy, of course, and in the bitter fucking cold had a goddamned fucking hat, and his teeth were better, by far, but..
that fucker hadn't bathed since the previous spring, bless Hlm.
You know.. hard, greasy, shiny, effectively unwashed, dirty fingers (not black, but just shiny & dirty), picking through bins, not bothering *anyone*, other than picking, (which is pretty hard, fucking, holy work..).. well..
I. The fucking cold & snow & what is probably scant fucking pickings from garbage cans at a remote fucking rest stop in goddamned British Columbia, I offer him a few cans of soup & beans.
& this fucker.. Fucker..
Holy Fuck..
This fifty years old plus MotherFucker, digging through Trash Cans for goddamned food, in the goddamned subzero temps, looks at the three cans I offer Him & hands me back *two* of the fucking things, saying "I can't eat those, they have animal products in them"..
It takes exactly 10 milliseconds for this to flip my fucking lid.
I should have left him with a 1000 bucks, instead of looking for other cans I hoped he could use, but..
If you are that cold, that poor & that strong,
You are the Fucking Buddha.
& If I can get my goddamned boat up there & drag his ass out into the warmer Seas & care for him as He Dies, I may just fucking do it.
Today I tape the hull edges..
Perhaps the Buddha is already dead.
January 2014, Victoria Island or some such, rubber tramping through British Columbia.
Hit a parking bounded by snow as far as sight allowed.
You've probably seen folks (or been)making their living from trash bins & dumpsters.
This is already Holy & Difficult Work.
People who pull value from what is discarded, rather than steal are the goddamned children of Christ, and are going to judge everyone of us fuckers too scared or needy to do so, when everything is reduced to molten fucking reality..
Anyways..
He wasn't aqualung from the Jethro Tull album cover, at all, but..
He was scroungy, of course, and in the bitter fucking cold had a goddamned fucking hat, and his teeth were better, by far, but..
that fucker hadn't bathed since the previous spring, bless Hlm.
You know.. hard, greasy, shiny, effectively unwashed, dirty fingers (not black, but just shiny & dirty), picking through bins, not bothering *anyone*, other than picking, (which is pretty hard, fucking, holy work..).. well..
I. The fucking cold & snow & what is probably scant fucking pickings from garbage cans at a remote fucking rest stop in goddamned British Columbia, I offer him a few cans of soup & beans.
& this fucker.. Fucker..
Holy Fuck..
This fifty years old plus MotherFucker, digging through Trash Cans for goddamned food, in the goddamned subzero temps, looks at the three cans I offer Him & hands me back *two* of the fucking things, saying "I can't eat those, they have animal products in them"..
It takes exactly 10 milliseconds for this to flip my fucking lid.
I should have left him with a 1000 bucks, instead of looking for other cans I hoped he could use, but..
If you are that cold, that poor & that strong,
You are the Fucking Buddha.
& If I can get my goddamned boat up there & drag his ass out into the warmer Seas & care for him as He Dies, I may just fucking do it.
Today I tape the hull edges..