My Daily Day

Sunday, January 22, 2006

On Sunday, January 22, 2006
he read about Benjamin Franklin, and thought, man, I need to get off my ass.

"Even prior to holding office, however, Franklin always dedicated himself as a public servant to the colonies. This humanitarian responsibility was indicative of the Enlightenment, and Franklin’s achievements in this area were extensive. In Philadelphia he started the first volunteer fire department and founded the first lending library, the Library Company of Philadelphia. Benjamin organized a debating club that developed into the American Philosophical Society. He helped to establish an academy that eventually became the University of Pennsylvania and started the Pennsylvania Hospital. Franklin also served as Postmaster helping establish the post office along with starting up street lighting, road paving, and insurance. In order to help keep the peace in Philadelphia, he organized a night watch and militia."

On Thursday, January 19, 2006
Even in January the west Texas sun was punishing. Slept in the passenger seat until 1:30. The whole area is dry, dusty, barren, and the small towns are litted with abandoned buildings and smell like diesel fuel.

On Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Ken said he wants to name the van Gaylord after Gaylord Nelson, the Wisconsin Governor who created Earth Day. Once we're running on veggie oil the name will apply.

On Tuesday, January 17, 2006
we had to switch rooms because ours hadn't been cleaned. The bed looked like someone had just finished fucking in it and wet towels were on the floor.

On Monday, January 16, 2006
for his birthday in Kansas city, he received a chips ahoy cookie with a candle in it.

On Monday, January 09, 2006
the piece of paper he stuck to the side of the Space Needle came around again.

On Sunday, January 08, 2006
the Chinese classical garden in Vancouver took him outside of himself. Things went quiet. He felt car wrecks and abandoned factories being removed from his soul.

On Tuesday, January 03, 2006
it's calm at 30,000 feet. Just a patient cocoon of sunlight, air, and jet noise. I can discern no forizon through the small window, just horizontal bands of cloud in layers of depth that seem without up or down. It reminds me of childhood vacations to upper Michigan, where on overcast days Lake Superior dissolved seamlessly into the sky, in a gradient wash of gray. I looked our into a formless gray-white sheet and followed it down to the water lapping at the edge of the rocks.