Where I'm At.: 29, Not-Quite-Broke, and Climbing...

I've gotten so caught up in the quest to stack cash through the motherfuckin' service industry (augmented by a smidgen of writing for pay) that I've neglected to say anything worth two shits for quite a while.

Correction: I've gotten so caught up in the quest to retain my sanity through kinda-sorta scary interactions with Mother Nature that I've neglected to say anything worth two shits.  The snow is melting, the shed is locked, I'm doing work I'd rather not, and my nostalgic little honeymoon with Americana has flipped hellish: food too rich, drink too strong, fun too fun,(?), and that Old Catholic Guilt is back in my sack.  I've regressed to biting my tongue and pulling snarled hair because just about everything just about everyone does seems so misguided and wasteful that I'm perpetually piss-yer-pants antsy.

Me?  At the moment, just one more American Cow-Boy caught up in the act of overgrazing.  This once pristine land is long since overrun... by us.

When Whitey showed up  in North America there were approximately 30,000,000 Natives living here.  Despite 20,000+ years of occupancy, they left the place about like they found it, with scarcely a scar on the landscape. In fact, all they really left behind were beautiful reminders of the many cultures ours destroyed.

Petroglyphs, Utah Desert
Big Horn Medicine Wheel, Wyoming
Cliff Dwellings of the Southwest
Ancient Totem Poles of the Northwest
Great Serpent Mound, Ohio
But hey, our ancestors needed more space so they shot all the buffalo, spread disease, killed, raped, lied, stole, and blah blah blah.  Now less than 150 years after "conquering" the West we've indubitably trashed the place and -- regardless of whether we get are act together or not -- will leave some dandy artifacts all our own.

The occassional work of art, but mostly this kind of shit:

You reap what you sow.

I should probably discontinue quoting barnyard wisdom as most people these daze won't catch it.  Boo fuckin' hoo the hell cares. Enough digression...
I've moved from Doorman to Bartender at the SDB&G and have picked up another job as Bellman at a newer motel that proclaims itself "Rustic" and thus charges $300 a night for shitty little cabins stacked wall to wall atop a sea of blacktop. Since they charge so much, it's no big deal for clients to drop $5s and $10s on a self-depreciating, wise-crackerin' Bellman.  If I carry enough luggage and pour enough drinks, sooner than later I'll have funds enough to get my hands on a more seaworthy boat.

Cadillac Escalade Complimentary Shuttle Vehicle is to Yours Truly as Squatty, Three-Legged Wooden Stool is to...

 a)Volunpov Philosopher.
b) Farmer Milking Some Fat Fucking Cows.
c) Lion Getting Whipped By a Ringmaster
d) All of the Above.

The correct answer is "d".
Between both jobs, I'm in the midst of a 2+ week-long stint and can feel that old Greed creeping up alongside the Guilt.  The more I've got the more I want, and if you think you're immune to similar flaws you need to analyze the feathering you've done to your own nest.

In the harshest of conditions in the harshest of climates, all a human really needs to survive is food, water, and shelter.  If all you could afford is a coffin-like box to lay down in at night, you'd get by.

Now I'm living out of a van I picked up for $1000 a few months ago.  I try not too drive it too much, but like the Greed and Guilt the old impulse to Go-Go-Go is also resurfacing.

My financial goal for the summer is to spend under $200 a week and squirrel away (ideally) a couple grand every month.  If all goes according to plan, in less than a year, I'll get this show off the road once again.

Maestra (my dog) is loving life and, following her example, so am I.  You may as well do the same, regardless of whatever confusion, contradictions, and compromising circumstances you encounter.

Fuck it?  Nah.  Fuck Yeah?  Ohhh Yaaaah, you betcha.