on the brocks

Lately

.I know there are people who can go months without more than two drinks a day and claim to be relatively sane. I think they’re called “recovering alcoholics” and “child molesters” or children of alcoholics and probably child molesters. In the parlance of our times I believe they’re called Mormons. I am none of these things but have through a combination of poor life planning and scheduling circumstance spent way too much (all but a couple of really necessary nights) of the last two months drinking two drinks or less per day. This hasn’t produced the famed moments of clarity or any such nonsense, but a dull throbbing sensation I can only assume is reality. In a few days, I intend to remedy this by exercising my land legs for a while. All ashore that’s going ashore…..
Simmons- I’ll probably find your email address about three minutes after I post this, but what dates would be best for you? And have you run across any deals on bikes in 58cm range?

Gina-I miss you too. More importantly however, I miss my financial consultant, your little friend Miles Tiny Dancer Davis. It’s tax time. Go easy on the coffee, little guy.

Sabine, please don’t turn my boat into a fishbowl. The fish scum will never come out.
Don’t turn it into a cat bowl either, Digo.

So a while back I was listening to an audio book on globalization in my truck. I’d like to think that someday soon, we’ll be able to outsource anything we don’t want to deal with. For instance, I plan on outsourcing my midlife crisis to a couple of accountants in Bangalore, India. Think of the savings. With their shorter life spans, it may only take a couple of months and they’ll be able to afford the developing world equivalents of the Harley Davidson or BMW Z3 or Mazda Miata (probably a three-wheeled Mazda Miata) that I won’t.

Freedom in a week.

…

The best quote of last year, and probably any year, from a dish washing, world traveling Kentuckian to a backseat driver:
“Listen, I’m the one fucking this donkey, you’re just holding its ears.”

I occasionally have to wash a ship in a few hours as you would wash a car-or about 80 cars to be more exact. Usually, I have plenty of help. When I don’t, I sometimes fantasize of opening a coin-operated-drive-through ship and yacht wash in Cabo San Lucas. I will only accept rare coins: dubloons, the coins the Legionaires gambled for Jesus’ clothes with, the coins they put on Lincoln’s eyes, the official Bud Bowl III opening coin toss coin, etc.

The United States Coast Guard is such an inelegant waste of paper, tape, steel, water and my time. I’ve paid them hundreds of dollars for a piece of paper I could use now but probably won’t need if and when I ever get it. I’ll need a much more expensive piece of paper by the time I get it.

…

I’m sitting at an outdoor cafe in La Paz, BCS, Mexico.
I have just read and have to confirm John Harmon’s inexplicable tale.

Yes, there was a massive quantity of light from the vicinity of nowhere. Yes, we were in the sticks on an icy road and had not seen and probably did not see another vehicle our entire trip (I don’t believe it was New Year’s Eve, but certainly around then) and the entire sky glowed blue-green from an indertiminate source in the direction of completely unpopulated woods. I don’t remember a shaft of light, but it’s possible I was looking a different direction. Yes, it freaked us the fuck out. I remember either John or myself saying something like, “Well, that’s probably not a good thing.” There was a brief discussion, then contemplative silence in fear. John asked me for the time. I told him and in an attempt to break the mood I said “Wow, we’re making good time.” John replied, “I don’t care if we’re making good time, I’m don’t want us making really fucking bad time.” We determined there to be no “lost time.”
We each consulted our copies of Communion, as well as the next day’s papers, and whatever form of the internet was around in those innocent days and found nothing about fallen satellites or any other explanation. Harmon spoke in tongues for a few weeks-but he often does that. I’ve always assumed it was just another affectation like his glass eye and ivory handled cane.

In a few weeks, I shall assault the world under the sea with SCUBA tanks, and assault the drinking establishments of Baja equal vigor. Then I will fly to San Francisco, and explore the west by bicycle and train. I’m peeing my pants with excitement as I type.

…

…resolution 48. Read and update on Arkansas Rockers often.
49. Figure out which of my friends and family are on drugs.
50. Figure out which of the above are on really good drugs.
51. List friends and family in order of blackmailability.
52. the list of unnecessary lists project
53. find new subjects for player hating
54. find the other half of my amulet

If you want to hear god laugh tell him your plans. So I definitely do not want any of the below to happen in this order this year:

1. Work on ship in Mexico for two months starting soon.
2. Get SCUBA certification in Mexico
3. ride substantial piece of Pacific Coast Highway on bicycle
4. work the summer on swanky new boat in Alaska
5. work on Al Franken’s campaign this fall
6. spend winter in Hawaii working on swanky new boat

…all of that sounds horrible and I really hope it doesn’t happen in that order.

One list to get me started:

List of ailments to start rumors about when a shipmate is conspicuously ill aboard a ship:

Scurvy
Wrestlemania
Swim ear
Sweet tooth
Slowfoot
Bubonic dysentery
Coal miner’s lung
Stockholm Syndrome
Stumble tongue
Hammer toe
Tattoo regret
The frakes
The bends
Nostalgia
Morning breath
Misogyny
Juvenile diatribes
Early-onset Applebee’s

ANDREW DAREZZO,
I just got your 2 week old voice message-yes, let’s go sailing. I can teach you everything but navigation and I can at least teach you how to know when you are lost and how to possibly get found. One small problem-I ripped my mainsail (the important sail) last time out. My next call is my sail fixin’ dude.

Grace Ann Smith is a hell of a house sitter. She’s kind of like the A-Team though, if you have a problem, if no one else can help and if you can find her…and why is there party jewelry on my front porch?

…
Wow, looks like I picked the right week to come back to Arkansas Rockers (the bio thing is sweet although I’m only 2 in so far) and the wrong week to come back to Arkansas (weather.)

IMPORTANT
Help a homeless sailor out, por favor:
I just slid back to Fayettenam last night from Mexico without the bag that contains my keys-which is hopefully in Atlanta and not Marrakesh. This means I’m temporarily homeless, bikeless, truckless & clothesless. This isn’t really such a bad situation considering I’m three blocks from home.
HOWEVER-IF YOU SEE THE TRANSIENT GRACE ANN SMITH around please stop her and hand her phoneless ass your cell phone to call 479 790 1362. I NEED THE SPARE KEY TO MY APARTMENT. I’ll buy you a beer or three, or a fish taco, or…well if you don’t like those things I’ll buy your vegan, straightedged ass a bag of basil or something if you help me out.

muchas gracias,
Scott Alan Ushuaia Thruster Brock
wayward mariner’s union #1287841249

CLAY SIMMONS—
Let’s get this shit together. I was drug against my will to Mexico for an extended stint on the boat, but I still really want to ride the PCH soon. Let’s do this before you have to be a day job guy. I will call you this weekend.

I have about 300 things I want to write on this little site. I haven’t even visited in months and I want to catch up with all of you. After I am re-combobulated I will do that.

But first-if I can get in my apartment, and if it has heat and electricity-let’s have some drinks and food at my place. Maybe tomorrow night. Maybe the night after. Anyone?

…

Happy is the new existential despair. Yea fashion.

Newtonian physics.

brockenspiel@hotmail.com

ArkansasRockers.com

on the brocks

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