framework & fretwork


just t he f/acts

para//ax e

margin all i a

We start the work that day, that is finally warming in Maine. The neighborhood is particularly relaxed like a hushed silence of people enjoying themselves away from home or leisurely in the privacy of their abode. Ryan is working on dismantling the bottom deck, and struggling with the large crow bar. I sense his exasperation: I have been there. Ryan takes off his royal t-shirt and works in his white wife-beater tank underneath. I understand. I have come prepared in spaghetti-strap top and sunscreen, knowing it is going to be a long day working in all angles of the sun. and smile thru my sunglasses as I continue the messy, buzzing sanding work that is sticking to my skin in a layer of dry dust and muck, as I knew it would. My work is a little more energetic than usual, as the decking is already removed from the top deck, so I am working on ladders on one side, climbing up and over the balustrade, to walk and balance on joists as I work, moving back and forth and over, sanding the rails and balustrade for most of the day as the scraping has been done previously, then nailing a section down with the first coat of paint. 

I have asked Paul to purchase a specific product that has a primer in it. It costs more, however it will save time, and that is an important consideration for completing this job on time. Paul comes on the deck that is suspended on the 2nd floor, that now only has joists for footing, and says he is a little sketched out with my paint sitting on one slat of decking that isn't nailed down. I ask, "What about Me?!" as I am sanding with an orbital sander, and painting in the round, balancing on joists, climbing back and forth with paint or sander in hand, over the balustrade and up and down ladders, to stay one step ahead of the new deck to be laid, with the sun tirelessly beating down. He says he is not worried about me, as I move like a cat. It's true in my understanding, I have consciously applied in my short tutelage in rock climbing to maintain 3 points of contact at all times, that said, you can't get tired in your attention in this concerted work: A mistake of poor footing is a mistake that will cost you for the rest of your life, insurance or not. The knowledge transfers to climbing ladders while extending beyond your reach, to perching precariously on slanty roof tops to apparently make house tops look charming from the ground up. I think to myself, that that is almost a compliment re Paul and my work with him on the job site.

Paul has tried to have a conversation for me to get help with the painting. He has a friend, Tiffany, that I already know is not a painter but a "painter" and know that Paul knows it too. I resist the idea, firstly because my prep is so good, it would profane my work to have someone glob paint on top of it because they approach the rails as if the only side to concern their self with is the one that they are statically facing. (Similarly, work in the trades is not tole painting, admiring each brush stroke in newly made self-reflection as you go, taking a moment to pause, and then making another). If someone doesn't understand the (brute) value of my prep (with restrained finesse)* and know how to do it themselves and are not committed to doing the work likewise, they shouldn't be allowed to paint on top of it. I'm kind of irked that Paul wants someone to help me with the apparently easy (to F up) painting and not the arduous and tedious prep to underscore it, (which shouldn't be visibly underscored itself with a brutish hand, as those blights of unapparent consciousness will register in the final coat). Additionally, I explain, to have someone help me paint would be a liability, particularly at this point, as I would have to split my focus to either teach or make sure they were doing it right, cannibalizing my own much-needed momentum to complete this work on mediated time. Paul makes known that he "sympathizes" in his own way re with me. I make known that it would be faster for me to complete the work considering the restricted time frame, on my own… as I continue to have an inkling of familiarity of what he may be missing, in that Paul ganders ("self-reflectively") my work comprised of my Being is easy and anyone can virtually do it, but that is simply because I Make it Look Easy. (…Same apparent mistake made in my behalf, "different" person).

(and then there is only so much work you can do to make nice/ undo the efforts that were intentionally marred by "forthrightly" not paying whole attention to what is directly in front of you (as your inherent desire manifest to do so) to begin with).

*restrained finesse like the amish purposely not creating in the image of god. the fact is, an apparent flaw is purposely incorporated in their Creations to Show deferment to the Almighty, but the inescapable fact underlaying the matter of intention is that it is still inherently and purposefully on purpose like an infinite and refined ruse of thoughtfully disregarded self-as-communal-immolation: The fact of the "simple" matter still Stands (hand in hand with rightful ownership ((unmarred in reality by virtue of Apparently having no inherent marketing value "Among Man" in and of their simple (((((and artfully un-beseeching))))) god-(AS)-loving self)).

(Truth be told, I am not a simple Amish person following the rhetoric of knowing not what I do, and Paul is not a great teacher among me unless it is to instruct with disturbingly Great Abomination, which I can only consider is his value of putting on a show as if his life depended upon it, to thusly dominate the ignorant or naive, in spite of the innocent among him,* in order to ruefully substantiate his life and work as … wait for it!… can you hear the Chest-Beating!!!… ABSOLUTE and heretofore unchallenged NECESSITY! His work with me is not intentional of caring to care, of building in value as you go, it is a by-product of his last-ditch necessity to, if For nothing else!, Make A Good Show! and the fact that (he needs me but refuses to see it because?) I hang in there for him apparently to do so… Because the fact of the matter he doesn't want to see (or me?) as he is damning me theatrically from having a bit-part in his "Universe" is I love my work, all on my very own, and when it shows, to such little mite o' men by seemingly virtual (and fitful) association, I can apparently expect this as my top-down and therefore "justified" earned reward (for the saving Grace of all men?) in and of myself unless I rectify the means of all relentless tail chasing and its projected frustrations of graft un-fulfillment by apprehending the very nature of my being with my very own tale to tell promoted relentlessly as with promiscuously among you-All, write-hear right-now, usually without nary a substantial nod towards my living among you. However I am pleased to make fruitful "amends" by having been at this long enough; I know where to drive and am adept at holding the line and I am going to Ride paul's Donkey Ass as my candidly Open Secret among you, all the way to Bank). (If you were in my position, You would Hoop! and Holler! Too!!! recognizing the chance for truly rewarding personal fulfillment: A Men! Yo! and Yo!).

i a notorious ly good in my own mind at dialing / offering commensurate measure. its as if it truly innate within me.

*I like to use Pinkola-Estes', a Jungian analyst and cantadora (story teller of good medicine where the audience member participates in their own healing by taking in the medicine that they need) definition of Innocent, contrasting the other options of Ignorant, Naive, or Evil (re: Scott Peck), in that you know better and still choose the good option.

Further, as I have discovered, Paul berates instead of instructs with occasionally providing you the honor of berating you While he instructs.         I am not a liability to him to teach another in the same sense, because if this is his job site, then set it up to get the desirable outcome in process, acknowledging the timely manner it is going to take, In The First Place. Instead, Paul works to inherently disparage me as he apparently instructs. He sees no need to inherently instruct without disparagement and falsehoods as his actions predicate that I am not worthy to be seen as a value to his efforts to build in the Image of Man aka in "His" first place. He builds to divide me from my own inherent value among him. Big, yet subtle appearing difference once you understand his commanding "position" of "self-determination" is In Deed, not his inherent right to OverSee (or not to oversee) others as if he owns them with his astute and valid-as-can-be "point of reference," otherwise the visible inherent regard would be there in the first place, and in the second place, and so on. The point is, he doesn't see anyone as good enough, even if they are serving his "efforts," which no one can win on this platform, by (his inherent) design? Let's not argue a moot as mute point, and move on).

I feel I can undertake this Olympian feat to get the deck rails and house painted and presentable before the event at the end of the week, I just need to work concertedly. Whether I need to put a second coat on after the party, regarding the raining weather I will need to jockey around in the middle of the week remains to be seen. Paul gets a call and wants to leave the job site early, around 3. For me as a painter, I am just  starting to paint, having advanced the prep all day, and now the right time to apply a coat of paint before the temperature shifts the dew point. I lobby that I need this time, and while we carpooled together, I really need this time to lay the paint down over the surface I have prepped complete, tightening up my work as I go, so I don't potentially add work to my work, by having to inspect and prep it again. Paul runs some errands and Ryan and I continue to work… Ryan cleans up around the job site as he knows this will need to be done before we leave. Occasionally I ask him to hit a drop of paint that is on the cement below with the hose. He puts a little trickle of water on it, making the paint drop more noticeable. He notices that the drop of paint got bigger after he walked away, and I say from above, "You made it prettier" acknowledging that, yeah, it is going to take more than a trickle of water to dissipate that drip. He gives it a good squirt from the hose, as I continue to paint, thankful to have a detail guy.

Earlier in the day, Ryan asked how Paul and I met. There was a pause of silence, and so I said that I met Paul about 8 years ago on Ryan says something about still being friends with girls he has slept with. I don't say anything further, and glance at Paul thru my sunglasses, working on the deck, wondering what he thinks or feels and if I said too much per the job site appropriate topics, because the conversation is kind of noticeably silent. (The fact of the matter is that I was an insignificant flavor of the day for about a day before I met all his other flavors sitting around a table at a tavern, and thought he had good taste mixed with chagrin, as he was licking his finger and sticking it in the belly button of his current flavor, and consciously worked at the idea, over time, that I could be his friend and just a friend, and that has worked well enough in working with him many years later. FYI we never slept together). There is a lot of current conversation for possibility and opportunity for meeting and "treating" himself to different women via Paul… and I honestly don't care. I would rather be on the inside of this conversation than mesmerized by the illusion on the outside, mistreating and misleading myself by believing "For Me?!"  In that Paul is committed to doing a good job and he is capable, is the only reason I take his excessive pickiness and occasional negligence in treating me like a dipshit… Paul doesn't seem to be emoting anything, working on the deck, and I think He is a guy, so why would he be thinking about anything other than the apparent work in front of him to get to the next lay, which isn't me, and get back to my own work.

It 's a long and successful day. I am really happy when I end the day that there is evidence of starting to put this undertaking back together again, and that puts me in good placement for the week to finish on time. As we clean up and prepare to leave the site together in Paul's truck, I sit in the back seat of the king cab, and Ryan is riding shotgun. Paul asks if Ryan or I can carpool together tomorrow. I say to Ryan, "You can drive or I can drive, however if I drive, you will have to be prepared to lose face." Ryan is like "Whaaa?" So, I repeat myself, and add that "my car is a 20 year old, 3.5 gerbil power convertible." Paul adds, "a clown car." I add, "You'll need a sense of humor." Ryan looks to Paul for direction and asks him if he has ridden in it. Paul definitively states that he has a sense of humor. I say, "Paul has a rise to the occasion sense of humor," chuckling from the back seat. Ryan decides that he will pick me up the next day. 

Somehow, the conversation turns to the topic of women with fake breasts. Paul sites his "Sexy as Can Be" long-time-ago ex from NYC that is "Half Polish and Half Italian!!!" which I have already heard about several times, and that she put size double-G on her small frame, which he didn't understand the Why? of So GGinormous?! and didn't like, as she couldn't exercise, would have back pain, etc. Ryan offers that he doesn't prefer fake breasts. He doesn't like the way they feel. I say that I will be 80 years old and not drooping, still waiting for puberty. Ryan takes a quick assessment of my chest, satisfied with seeing for himself, the conversation moves along… We are all feeling hungry from the day's work and Ryan calls his landlord/friend to see if there is still food from the BBQ. Paul states that he is taking me home first, and I say "Haha, I get to eat first." And, Paul reacts that he "can't believe I just said that." I reach forward to the front seat, in front of Ryan and say "Look What I Can Do?" in the manner of Stuart on Mad TV, and retrieve my sunglasses from the jockey box, which is what it is called in the West (we had this conversation at lunch aka a glove compartment in these parts is a jockey box where I come from) and point out to Ryan in the open jockey box, the hot sauce I told him about -- That "Paul doesn't go anywhere without his hot sauce!"

RyRy picks me up at 7:30 am the next day. He is setting his phone gps to the address of the job site. Although I know the way, I don't interrupt. His gps shows 5 miles to the job location. I say that I thought it was farther than that. Ryan relates that the gps now shows 8.1 miles. I say, "the 5 miles must be as the bird flies." We head for Scarborough. RyRy relates to me a story where apparently he offended a man while driving and didn't know it, and the man comes at him trying to punch him thru his car window. Then his wife comes over to his car wailing. And Ryan and his friend are inside their car in disbelief, and then the kid of the parents comes over, a teenage boy, that puts his arms around his dad to restrain him and says, "Nice car, dude" to Ryan. Ryan doesn't want to fight the guy, especially in front of his kid, but the fact of the matter, he could succinctly take care of the matter because he trains as a fighter. The other reason he wouldn't want to fight the guy is it could be bad for his work, in that he may not have a job… He finds out later that this man goes around trying to start fights with people so that he can call the police and complain about the person he started the fight with. I marveled how his wife was in collusion and we both lamented the poor teen, apparently being the only adult in the family and how tweaked that must be to grow up that way.

I relate my story on the road. I am on my rollerblades on Marginal Way. A mini van with a bull dog of a man is obnoxiously and fowl-mouthed barking at me out the open window. It is menacing, and the van is too close, so I hit the van with my hard plastic wrist guard. The van pulls over and stops, and I take a picture of their license plate. The woman driver gets out and is trying to shout me down that I hit her van, so I aim my camera at her, and She Stops And Smiles! Ryan and I start cracking up. He's like, she is badgering me one minute, goes nice when I take a pic, and then goes right back to badgering me. I affirm laughingly, "Yeah, I learned something interesting about human nature." But the fun doesn't end there. She wants to call the police, and initially I think it may be a good idea so that this person understands it is the Law that she needs to give me 3 feet of space on the road, and I surely wasn't going out of my way to chase down and hit her van. I go inside the building to call, because it was windy, as she stays outside to call. Understanding the lay of the land, as I have always traversed my surroundings in a pedestrian manner, rerouting possibility with curbs to jump, which roads are amenably smooth, and of course short cuts. There is covered parking in this building. I don't want to bring the cops outside of where I work as I will be working at Trader Joes later that day, across the street. I skate off thru the building and thru the covered parking, and about a mile away, then I call the police about this woman, as I relate that she is probably on the line with them as we speak, that she needs to know about the 3 foot law. I made the call, because if she explained a female rollerblader, it wouldn't take a lot to figure out it was me. I was covering my ass without putting it out, and besides this wouldn't be the first time I was pulled-over or abused because I was proficient on my rollerblades vs a lack of it, which I would no doubt be left alone if I were flailing about in such inward "circumstances." (My joyful point and protocol of training is, if you want to feel better at my expense, you will have to keep up!)

Ryan and I get to the job site before Paul. I start setting up extension cords with power strips, feeding them close to the side of the building so that they lay out of the way and set one up for Ryan to use on the lower deck. I set up the tarps and ladder I will be using that day to work on the upper deck rails, and gather my tools from the trailer parked on the site. I come back and notice Ryan is fiddling with the blade

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