I was scraping years of layers of paint off an out building today and yesterday. The building was a prime location for grafitti. I guess it still is but the cost of spray paint has reached a point of no return on the investment. The paint was as thick as a bald tyre in most places and the sun beating against the wall warmed it enough to get some decent size slices. I took on this job through my own volition. I took on this job because I knew it would be mundane, and the time spent on it would reward me with a new canvas and a stretch of inner thought. The world diisapears when I am riding through a desert, Stretches , inside my plastic fortess of solitude. Meditation is not an absence of thought, it is an absence of controlled thought. I thought that desert crossings were going to be a real bummer till I did my first one. I once met a man who was astonished that anyone could be alone on a bike day after day after day. He told me that he does not consider himself good enough company to want to hang out with just he for any stretch of time. I did not get it. I am my best friend and I get allong swimmingly with me.
I liken the scraping of that wall, to a trip through a lonely stretch of deserted hiway. Absent and there all at the same tyme. Mundane and Cosmic, hammer and chisel.
Time to canvas the hood for some new artists.
I liken the scraping of that wall, to a trip through a lonely stretch of deserted hiway. Absent and there all at the same tyme. Mundane and Cosmic, hammer and chisel.
Time to canvas the hood for some new artists.