It's About Time

... I wrote something. I haven't been because I haven't wanted to make the time. Time to craft something, say something, share something. It all takes time! I got things to do with my time. I don't use it very well, is the thing. And when I'm writing where it might be read, then I know my time is not being wasted. Entirely.

As opposed to when looking at Facebook, or browsing ePLaya, or following news links, or smoking crack, or watching TV, or politely engaging in conversation with my ever-lovin'.

All right, a few words about that. I think it still doesn’t make sense to her that I can tell her I love her and need to move out. There’s no love, she says. I’ve stopped arguing. But there is love. I just can’t continue on married to her. Doesn’t seem like a big change to me, of course, because I’m the one simply aligning his life to his feelings. She’s the one being pushed into a life out of line with her feelings. And that sucks. But what else is there to do? I’ve tried years of the “right” thing despite my relentless dissatisfaction and learned it cannot be fixed with more hobbies. I need a more fundamental fix than that. Say, living this one life in line with my feelings. What a concept.

So, off we go. But not just yet. Preparation for the Burn is all-consuming now (hence not wanting to make time for writing, among other things), and the kids are home, and I’m lazy (or have enough to do, whichever), and she’s fine with this status quo, which is most surprising. She’s not kidding herself that in the next month she can change my mind. Indeed she is quite adamant that there is no going back. A good thing to hear. She just doesn’t have the problem she thought she’d have with me hanging about while intending to leave. It’s all really very civilized and almost normal.

I attribute that to the love. She might see that. Might not.

And she’s certain it’s mainly because I want to go do a bunch of women but I keep telling her it is not. Yes I want to be able to date blah blah blah but that is to become more of myself, not notch up any god damn tally stick. Not sure where she got that idea. Probably from me, but context, misunderstood, long ago, etc. Some of it anyway is I just want to be left alone. Maybe the myself I’m becoming is an old crank but some unsolicited conversations need to occur where I can’t hear them. Just not interested and got thinking to do. You know? However I’m polite (usually) and will listen and even make eye contact and respond and all that and it is the freedom from that set of obligations that also forms a portion of this directive to depart.

Not a good reason to go. Allegations of Other Women are. But there’s a lot more to it than that. Those two concepts are but two out of many threads all tied together into a sense that I don’t belong here anymore. And that doesn’t feel strange at all. No reason why it should. We’re not those lovin’ twenty six year olds anymore. We’re someone else.

Was that enough words about that? The beautiful thing is everyone in my life now gets the same message. Don’t care who you are. You get the same truth as everyone else. That has never been the case before. It’s a pretty good thing.

Topic Two (brilliant segue, what).

The Electric Loveseat continues to vex me, but I am learning and it is fun. Let me tell you what it is, if preceding hints have not been enough. I took my friend’s long-gone mother’s motorized wheelchair and extracted the motors and wheels and control unit. I hunted around and acquired a couple of nearly identical mountain bike frames. After many false starts and dead ends I developed a physical concept, submitted my application to the Department of Mutant Vehicles, and received approval to bring it to the playa for inspection. I cut and welded the bikes and some square steel tubing into a basic frame and acquired four 24” wheels to test it with. I tested it and experienced the front wheels, which are free spinning, fluttering and wobbling back and forth like the front wheels of a badly misaligned shopping cart. I discovered there is an art and a science to the design and implementation of caster wheels and am currently in the depths of a mechanical engineering challenge I had not at all expected. I still have a bunch of cutting and welding and experimenting to do to see if the concept can be at all viable. Like I said, it’s fun.

I didn’t tell you what it is yet. If and when the mechanicals are worked out (and I don’t even know yet if the motors are powerful enough), it will be a loveseat that drives around on bicycle wheels and is controlled with a joystick. Given time to throw some art on it, there will be lights so at night it’s cool-lookin’. Clear enough?

In addition, some of us are building our octahuts. These are our housing while out there, done in part to be creative, and in part because in the desert, tents suck. Tents collapse under the wind, and let in too much dust. The huts are made of plywood and are very sturdy and can possibly have their joints sealed. We’re making a little city out of these things, an octopolis as it were, our little slice of octaburbia. Here’s the state of three of them a week ago.

Topic Three! (Enough B-Man, even though I’ve barely started.)

I forget what Topic Three was going to be.