Alo!
Today, I’ll continue with the lil’ green motor story.
After that, you’ll find info on this weeks fantastic offer!
That eight year old kid? That version of me that I’ve been writing about lately?
I like that guy.
I hope I’m becoming the kinda guy that eight year old me would have said: RIGHT ON!
I don’t have the boat or the mullet or the menthols.
But my moustache?
Eight year old me finds it both hilarious and terrifying.
Eight year old me isn’t too bad.
He’s a guileless know it all.
It’s a charming contradiction of character that I find totally endearing. I’ve had other relationships with some unsavory ages of myself.
I once had an ongoing relationship with my twenty-three year old self. Holy shit that kid was irritating. Entitled, delusional, pushy, aggressive, insecure - wanting to change the world because you know, he knows so much about reasonable goals and has a very clear understanding of his capabilities, you know, all the things - the twenty three year old dude things.
But even that kid?
That twenty four year old prick? He still loved the lake. That eight year old vision I had of being fourteen years old and bouncing shirtless down the lake wide open with a smirk, smoking a menthol? Even that twenty four year old inductee into the world of the know better, know it alls,- That kid? He has always felt most at home with a two stroke engine trumpeting intermittently close by.
That arrogant little prick loved nothing better than kicking back and listening to Kind of Blue while someone is working close by with a chainsaw. We, the Jims of the ages are quite grateful the arrogant little prick went through his arrogant little prick faux intellectual stage where he developed his love for classic jazz.
Sigh.
Myles Davis and a the sounds and smells of a two cutting wood bring peace and quiet to my heart. There is something sublime about the sound of a tree slowly cracking and about to fall. It’s a sound of release, of relief and of danger.
The cracks make my nerves light up. Danger is near! The tree falls and my states change. The entire thing is a very efficient thrill ride of effort, excitement and satisfaction.
I also love the combination of listening to Kind of Blue accompanied by the sounds of chainsaws in the distance. There’s something about it that just works. They don’t seem like they go together. This combination should not work.
And yet it does.
Each and every one of us is an odd combination of things that probably shouldn’t go together, seem hypocritical, contradictory and illogically flawed. Either that or when you first consider them, they just don’t ‘sound right’ together.
But then, those are the quirks, those things about ourselves that really do not add up, they’re the things that add depth to our charm.
What parts of you seem irreconcilable and contradictory?
How is their coexistence and tolerance of that fact an essential part of how you enjoy engaging with the world?
The eight year old me and twenty three year old me don’t have that much in common. Eight year old me is more settled. More certain.
But both of them?
Both of them admired that shirtless dude on the lake.
Both of them longed to be just like that dude only with one difference: They would get to use their granddad’s lil green 9.9 motor on the back of their boat.
Both of them loved that little green motor that sat there for years on the wall of the pump house.
And tomorrow?
Tomorrow I will tell you the story about my adventure with the lil’ green motor.
Bring your barf bag, it’ll likely be pretentious as all get out if that twenty three year old me has anything to say about it…