Reconnoiter

The weekend is over, as is one of three finals. Several days ago I took pictures of the battlefield that lays before me, filled with some four decades of what can only be described as the Cave of the Pack Rat King. My father does not throw away anything that might one day be useful in one way or another. He is also an extremely rushed and busy man, and so sometimes he starts one job before finishing another.

Thus, the third world garage. Honestly, it is a lot more cover than the delapitated porch above which has since been fixed...kind of. So considering my dad did most of the work by himself, I can't complain. In fact, it is one reason why I am embarking on this righteous war of good riddance. My dad is old, and he has done good by me. This is by no means poorly constructed, just not finished. So its time for the son to carry on the torch.

Under the tarp are all sorts unfinished projects, including a ride-on mower I took rides on as a toddler, a Mercedes engine/anchor from the '60s with a hole in the block. I'm not even sure how I got it anymore. In the background is a washer in three pieces with some kind of concrete toilet seat atop it. Lots of ladders, and an epic arched window leaning against the left hand side of the side door...I think my dad ganked it from a church. Also notice the encroaching flora from both sides, untamed and left to run rampant on the hillside. I have grandiose plans for that whole hill, but that is another post, and many, many stories about landscaping and working with heroine addicts.

It isn't any better on the inside. My car has become buried beneath the clutter, and what was once a half-built garage became another place to store...stuff. If you can't tell, I don't blame you, but this is my mythical '69 Cougar, the car you may have heard of but never actually saw. Life got really interesting in college, and I have a hard time paying attention to anything for extended periods of time. But I will never give up on this car. And before the Clutter War comes to a close, I will have this car better than it has ever been before.


Deeper in and we find the worst of the refuges.
Believe it or not, my father once used this as a workshop, building or repairing things he found on the side of the road, at the dump, or at a job site. Now, it houses, among car parts from several aborted projects, all sorts of broken, half-fixed, and working-yet-useless objects. Like half a chair. Honestly, after staring at this picture for five minutes, I don't have a fucking clue what most of this stuff even is. Theres a television, and a press drill from the fifties, but what the fuck is that white device next to the shelf? Oh, and don't ask what is in all the coffee cans, because I couldn't tell you. There are literally dozens of coffee cans full of nuts, bolts, do-dads, and gizmometers. That is the only description for it, unless you're my dad. He has a system no one else can understand by design, as he is what some might describe as a paranoid right-wing lunatic. He is a good man, just very unmoving in his beliefs.

Anyway, graduation is this weekend, and I have two finals left before I finish school, hopefully forever. But once all that hubbub is over, I am diving in head first. But I also have to enjoy my last week of college, so here is a picture from Tisane's bar last night. Even if there was a restart button to life, I wouldn't touch it, because I could never replicate all the good times that happened to me my first time around.

It's too bad you only live once, but I guess that's the point.