American Brainworm

I was looking at some of my old posts and noticed a reoccurring theme…or themes. Motorcycles, complaining about ‘normal’ society, trying to separate myself from said society, separation from society and then talking about not having a woman at the end of all of it.I leaned back in the cushions of the couch and realized that there is no middle of the road on this chain of events.
I separated myself…that means that I am separated…from all of it. I like it out here. I have my studio, my bikes and my life that I am trying to whittle out of the desert. It’s not a life for everyone, but it seems to be the life for me. Simple hard work enables me to live as well if not better then people that have a ‘real’ house and money to buy toys with.
I thought when I moved into my four wheels of fury I would have to get rid of the things that I had acquired along the way, I came to find out I had acquired next to nothing and I still have space in the tight quarters of the Danger Hut. I need a good heating system and a bigger shower but besides that I want for nothing.
The new paintings that need attention have piled up and I am now not taking any new commissions because I have enough. I could keep loading up my schedule but I think that the ones that I have on the block all require the attention they deserve. I refuse to rush even the simplest of images. Why should I…big money is no longer an issue due to my minimalist lifestyle.
I have been riding the bikes back and forth between Tombstone and Phoenix ridiculously often. The more I do the easier I find it to understand why I ditched “Urbainia” and set my wheels in a town of 1300 people.
People here are just surviving on their own terms. They don’t give a fuck about the car you drive or the house you live in. They don’t care about your “Ed Hardy” t-shirt or your big money persona, they don’t care who you know or what you have…they’re just livin’ the life they choose whether you like it or not. So at 46 years old I threw myself out here….and I fit right in, well sort of. I think that many of them think I am a tweeker…fuck it… that I find very amusing!
I like the hard work needed to keep things comfortable, The dust from the Arizona desert on my pants doesn’t bother me ( I rather like it) and the days would become repetitious if I didn’t keep myself busy trying to get the Hut completely off the grid. Workin’ on such a project is very satisfying as each accomplishment means you are one step closer to not being dependent on any cooperate entity. Freedom or at least the active pursuit of it is VERY satisfying.
But what of the rest of the world, are they now completely shut out? I’m not sure and it is a concern. I really get a giggle out of people and I like having them in arms reach , some I even let in a bit further, So I would probably miss them if they were gone….but not all of them.
I moved down here to get my head on straight and see if there is a further horizon, the horizon that I have created. I have done the big miles and the more I tore ‘em up the more that followed. Just one big stretch of road and no matter how many different places I ‘lived’ when I came back to them they were never really my ‘home’…so I’m building one, a home that is.
I’m not building a house or anything that resembles it; I am building a stationary environment that to me feels like the road. It’s a little confusing.
I know I could stay on the road until I drop. The open tarmac rollin’ under you pegs, the big sky above you and with any luck, nobody telling you what you can and can do. The freedom of the road…is it the road that makes you feel free? I don’t think so; the road just enables you to actively participate in a form of freedom for a short period of time. Why can’t our home be a place to be free?
Usually it’s because someone will eventually crawl up your ass and shit all over your cornflakes…if you let ‘em. They’re always there though, lurking in the shadows just waiting for that opportune moment when they can leap at you with their claws exposed hoping to tear at you contentment’s jugular vein…fuckers!
So you throw your shit in a set of saddle bags and move away from them. Further and further away until you find yourself distant and unapproachable. That is no way to live…I did it.
So know I am tryin’ to come to grips with the paradox. I crave solitude but need social interaction…and to bide my idle time. So I’m doing this fuckin’ Brainworm thing. Pages upon pages of my obscure ramblings spread on a computer screen.
A time killer, an artificial means on which to keep touch with society and ultimately a waste of the precious minutes we are allotted on this planet. What the fuck do I care really. The road is usually a lonely place whose destinations mean nothing and the internet is fake and almost everything and everybody on it is too…so what’s the difference. Here it is, my freedom in the desert…splattered all over the internet…Ironic isn’t it…”GTP”