You find yourself thinking, "Why would he ask the question if it were the normal, everyday answer?" "There has to be a trick. It has to be funny. AND it has to have something to do with chickens and roads..."
When you reach the punchline you might chuckle, snort or guffaw at your massive overthinking of a simple question. You may or may NOT be so humble as to enjoy a dig at your habitual humanity. But if you are of, (supposedly), Eastern thinking; if you are truly enlightened, you'd probably laugh your ass off when the six-year-old aspiring comic says, "To get to the other side," and proceeds to laugh his OWN ass off. In fact, (and this may be one acid test of enlightenment), you'd laugh just as hard even if you'd already heard the joke. Indeed the man who has trained himself to recognize spontaneous, intuitive insights may even laugh louder and longer in direct proportion to how many times he's heard the joke. Pray with me now, dear reader, "May my comedic spirit someday revert to its original 'I know you are but what am I?'"
If you'd said to Picasso, "That looks like something my five-year-old daughter drew," you'd have said it in either ignorant disapproval or wise approbation. Either way Picasso would have been over the moon with your critique. But if he had to explain to you that it was the fledgeling spirit he was attempting to capture on the canvas after you had made your comment, you might have thought he was full of shit. If he had explained this BEFORE your evaluation of his painting it would have rendered the praise worthless to him.
In the same way, if you have to explain a joke to someone before they laugh you KNOW the laughter is unacceptable trade for your comedic craftsmanship. A Taoist test in one question: "Can you educate your soul so that it... make(s) your strength unitary and achieve(s) that softness that makes you like a little child?"
There are those who believe that our original state before, (and optimistically after), our lives on earth is an intuitive, direct experience of reality. While experiencing life we are trained to think and behave outside that realm until it is ultimately suppressed or forgotten. Being closer to that original state, and having not yet "put away their childish ways", children can still laugh at stupid jokes and watch their favourite movies twice a day for 6 months if their parents let them. This is why they are so full of joy. Laughter is not taught. When you throw a baby in the air her chipmunk chuckles may just be about the nicest sound in the world. She's not immitating anything she has heard, learned and practiced, she is releasing her intuitive joy and sharing it with all those within earshot. Try really hard next time you do this; I dare you; try not to laugh or at least smile. If you can do this, quit your job, sell your possessions and get thee to a nunnery/monestary!
If you peeked inside the living room window of an enlightened man who allows himself enough attachment to existence to buy and own a TV and some DVD's, (and for that matter a living room), fearless of spatial limitations such as ownership, envy, and jealousy those possessions may lead to... Okay for convenience's sake let's say it's a run down shack in a crappy neighbourhood full of crackheads, pimps and thieves. And let's also say it's a black and white, thick screen TV with no remote. And let's pretend the movies are not on DVD's but VHS cassettes. WHEW! Okay, what movie do you suppose it would be? I think the peeper might be surprised.
The Confucian "Superior Man" might be watching something very funny, yet principled, morally stuctured and maybe even instructional. Bill Cosby - "Himself", "Amelie" or any of a handful of laugh-packed Disney films. A Buddhist or Hindu from the Madhyamika and Vedanta schools might go as far as "When Harry Met Sally", the Simpsons or George Carlin "It's Bad For Ya". The Zen Buddhist or the Lao Tsu's Taoist "Man of Calling" would be watching "Fletch", "Happy Gilmore", "Southpark" or the 3 Stooges. Maybe if they all got together they could watch the PG13 version of "The Big Lebowsky". This is what I reckon anyways.
In "The Odyssey" there's a part where a priest and a poet fall on their knees before Odysseus and beg him to spare their lives. He kills the priest without a thought and lets the poet live. If there had been a priest, poet, and a jester, Odysseus would have taken the jester to a tavern with all of his men and gotten drunk. There their laughter would have made the mead taste of ambrosia.
We can't study laughter, or be trained to increase our senses of humour. However, there's nothing better than training and educational formalism to dull a wit and smother a person's innate gift of laughter. How deep is the depression that cannot be soothed by it? How complete is the dimentia that can eliminate it? How fierce is the greed that can transplant it? The anger that can usurp it? The lust that can consume it? And how mislead is the intellect that can explain it away? Laughter is the best medicine, right?
There is said to be a thin line between comic and cosmic, (and only one letter), because it can be the psychic doorway to a spiritual rebirth. It is the part of human nature that is potentially the most transcendent. Tom Robbins says that a divine playfullness intended to lighten a man's existential burden has been lost on all the working stiffs and intellectuals alike. He writes of Buddhist Abbott Chogyam Trungpa squirting his disciples with water pistols when they became overly earnest in their meditation and Japan's most venerated ninja having a house full of Mickey Mouse memorabilia.
The message is not to lighten up, it's that we desperately NEED to lighten up. When I die and my heart is put on one side of a scale and a feather on the other I want the scale to balance.
I'm gonna go watch a season of the Simpsons. Or maybe the 40 Year Old Virgin. Or Airplane! Or Anchorman. And I'm gonna laugh so hard I'll have abs again! Because it's GOOD for me!
Laugh your ass off today, dear reader. And if you can, make someone else do it too.
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
The Circle of Life
There is a belief that life works in cycles. Circles. Goes round and round. The Chinese claim the round Yin and Yang symbol as their illustration of this. And it's not just about reincarnation. It is said that when they fall on hard times, the Chinese believe things are bound to turn around and become opposite. So they are steadfast in times of poverty. I have found this to be true of the Chinese folks I have known.
The Chinese say that as the man who goes farther and farther East will end up in the West, so the man who accumulates more and more money to increase his wealth will eventually end up poor. So it is also said that the Chinese are cautious and modest in times of success. I don't know where THESE Chinese folks are but I haven't met them.
The main character of Pearl S. Buck's The Good Earth, Wang Lung, (before you ask, NO he didn't also sing Get it On, Bang a Gong), was constantly striving to better his financial situation. His pride, or as we literary type like to call it, hubris, caused him to leave his family land in pursuit of riches and when he got to the city he hit the bottom of the cycle. He knew that in his village people starved when there was no food. He also knew that in the city there was plenty of food. What he didn't know, or understand when he found out, was in the city there were still many people starving. And there were many people who had far too much food. He wanted to be one of the latter. The seeds of Capitalism were sown.
In the book Wang Lung is an honest man who works his ass off but it is only a piece of unbelievably good luck, (combined with true capitalistic action), that allows the cycle to swing back around to the rich side of life for him and his family. During the confusion of the Boxer Rebellion in the city where he lived he runs into a rich man who begs for his life. Wang Lung instantly abandons his lifetime of honesty and demands money from the rich, fat man and threatens to kill him like a worm if he holds out. He gives Wang Lung a pile of gold and, being a new capitalist but a quick learner, Wang Lung demands more, which he gets. He uses it to return to his abandoned land and become a wealthy man in his old neighbourhood.
In my life it seemed that I wandered so far from the West that I ended up in the East. That, in remarkable similarity to Wang Lung, is where I started dealing with true capitalists and making good money. I was almost never worried about money or where my next meal was coming from while I was in Asia. If I wanted something I bought it. My plan was to return to my old neighbourhood, like Wang Lung, with the riches I earned in the East and maintain the enjoyment of riding the rich side of the circle of life. Unfortunately, I never met that rich man begging for his life. So for better or worse, I never abandoned my honest ways for capitalism. Had I met that fateful fat man who I could have cheated for a pile of gold, who's to say what I would have done? I like to believe I would have done the right thing, heck, for all I know I DID have the begging fat man, but just missed the opportunity because of my wretched integrity. DANG!
Whatever. I'm back in the West and back at the penniless, ugly side of the circle. Funny how that works. But, try to learn from the Asians, I'm doing my best to remain positive in my poverty. It's nice to be living with family. For more than the fact that if I get a bit behind on rent there's less chance of being out on the street. I AM in a mosquitoless area where the days are warm, sunny and not humid, and the nights are cool. The weather is just great here! Best summer in a long time! I AM making a little bit of money at a program called Worklink where they pay you to go to a course an learn job-hunting skills. It has really helped my resume and I am learning all kinds of ways to check out the hidden job market. Maybe the next job I get will be a good one.
However cyclical the world and life may be, there are still some universal constants. Singing in a voice that sounds like you're taking a dump SELLS; in Canada, you probably need to have three different certificates to qualify to TAKE that dump; We Will Rock You should never be followed by any song but We Are The Champions; The ESL industry is lousy with liars, cheaters and thieves; and the Canucks don't win Stanley Cups. Those are just a few but I've chosen to concentrate on one: the ESL thing. I had an interview with a dude named Matthew who has a tutoring business here in Victoria. It was like 6 weeks ago. He told me I'd make 25 bucks and hour and that he'd get 5 of that for finding me clients. I agreed.
The first thing I did was work on my online profile. Some of you may have sent personal references or whatever they're called. I also had to do paragraphs on several things like teaching style, personality, education and all that. Then I went to get a photo, paid 9 bucks for it too, for the online profile. I gave my address, number, availability and all that stuff. To this day I have no online profile.
But that was okay. Matthew had arranged a meet-and-greet with "between 60 and 90" students who are all studying at a Korean school here in Victoria called Kim Okran school. For those of you who know what this means, it's a hagwon. 3 days before the thing is supposed to happen I get a copy of these very DETAILED English evaluation forms we as tutors are supposed to use to level test students at this meet and greet. I had no idea this would be work. And it was work for free. Not the 20 bucks an hour we had agreed upon. So I asked Matthew who was getting the money for the interviews. He says to me that nobody is being charged admission to the meeting. I'm pretty sure he knew what I meant but I decided to give him another try. I wrote back and said that if I were to be paid 80 bucks for the 4 hours of level testing I would be doing I'd be there with bells on. He reiterated that nobody was paying admission for the event. So I KNEW then he was either too stupid to work with or he was being purposely evasive. He was getting paid by the hagwon for level testing their students and not sharing any of it with the people who did the interviewing. So I decided not to go.
When I told him this he was laying on the guilt trip really heavy. He even told me that one of his other tutors got injured. Either the tutor was smart like me and decided not to work for nothing and used that as an excuse, or Matthew fabricated it to make me feel even more guilty about not going. I felt no guilt whatsoever though unfortunately for him. He starts telling me that he's extremely disappointed that I would be so inconsiderate and I should in the future try to "commit to my commitments." I couldn't let that go could I? Of course not!
Two days before I was supposed to do the level testing Matthew sends me an email saying he urgently needs my address and phone number. Now, I gave him a resume at our interview; I GOT the interview after he read my resume and was impressed; and I had been giving him all kinds of information for my profile including my contact info. He lost it all. I don't think he had any intention of making me an online profile. Then he tried to rope me into working 4 hours for nothing even after we "committed" to a 80-20 split of 25 bucks for every hour I work for him. I did everything he asked for, put ALL the effort into our working relationship and he figures I'M the one who needs to honour his commitments. I told him with a warped sense of entitlement like that he'd better get used to people cancelling at the last minute or getting injured.
Anyway, I'm glad I didn't sign a one-year contract with that jackwagon before I found out he was exactly like every boss I've had in the ESL industry. But back to our original topic, I think I am just about at the bottom of the bad part of the cycle. That was it. I lucked into an interview for Corix to be a smartmeter installer around Victoria. It's better than any ESL job I could get. I'm hoping for that job. Also, I finally, (been waiting a month), write my security guard licence test on Friday after which I'll be working security. And the best news is, a lady is coming over Monday from a major school, (one of very few REAL ESL schools), to look at the house because I might get a homestay student. So this week will be my last week of unemployment and likely my last week at the bottom of the cycle. But I will try to be humble and frugal as I work my way up to the good part of the cycle. Maybe I'll start giving more money to the poor. Volunteering. Or something like that.
That's all for this entry. See you AROUND. ar ar ar
The Chinese say that as the man who goes farther and farther East will end up in the West, so the man who accumulates more and more money to increase his wealth will eventually end up poor. So it is also said that the Chinese are cautious and modest in times of success. I don't know where THESE Chinese folks are but I haven't met them.
The main character of Pearl S. Buck's The Good Earth, Wang Lung, (before you ask, NO he didn't also sing Get it On, Bang a Gong), was constantly striving to better his financial situation. His pride, or as we literary type like to call it, hubris, caused him to leave his family land in pursuit of riches and when he got to the city he hit the bottom of the cycle. He knew that in his village people starved when there was no food. He also knew that in the city there was plenty of food. What he didn't know, or understand when he found out, was in the city there were still many people starving. And there were many people who had far too much food. He wanted to be one of the latter. The seeds of Capitalism were sown.
In the book Wang Lung is an honest man who works his ass off but it is only a piece of unbelievably good luck, (combined with true capitalistic action), that allows the cycle to swing back around to the rich side of life for him and his family. During the confusion of the Boxer Rebellion in the city where he lived he runs into a rich man who begs for his life. Wang Lung instantly abandons his lifetime of honesty and demands money from the rich, fat man and threatens to kill him like a worm if he holds out. He gives Wang Lung a pile of gold and, being a new capitalist but a quick learner, Wang Lung demands more, which he gets. He uses it to return to his abandoned land and become a wealthy man in his old neighbourhood.
In my life it seemed that I wandered so far from the West that I ended up in the East. That, in remarkable similarity to Wang Lung, is where I started dealing with true capitalists and making good money. I was almost never worried about money or where my next meal was coming from while I was in Asia. If I wanted something I bought it. My plan was to return to my old neighbourhood, like Wang Lung, with the riches I earned in the East and maintain the enjoyment of riding the rich side of the circle of life. Unfortunately, I never met that rich man begging for his life. So for better or worse, I never abandoned my honest ways for capitalism. Had I met that fateful fat man who I could have cheated for a pile of gold, who's to say what I would have done? I like to believe I would have done the right thing, heck, for all I know I DID have the begging fat man, but just missed the opportunity because of my wretched integrity. DANG!
Whatever. I'm back in the West and back at the penniless, ugly side of the circle. Funny how that works. But, try to learn from the Asians, I'm doing my best to remain positive in my poverty. It's nice to be living with family. For more than the fact that if I get a bit behind on rent there's less chance of being out on the street. I AM in a mosquitoless area where the days are warm, sunny and not humid, and the nights are cool. The weather is just great here! Best summer in a long time! I AM making a little bit of money at a program called Worklink where they pay you to go to a course an learn job-hunting skills. It has really helped my resume and I am learning all kinds of ways to check out the hidden job market. Maybe the next job I get will be a good one.
However cyclical the world and life may be, there are still some universal constants. Singing in a voice that sounds like you're taking a dump SELLS; in Canada, you probably need to have three different certificates to qualify to TAKE that dump; We Will Rock You should never be followed by any song but We Are The Champions; The ESL industry is lousy with liars, cheaters and thieves; and the Canucks don't win Stanley Cups. Those are just a few but I've chosen to concentrate on one: the ESL thing. I had an interview with a dude named Matthew who has a tutoring business here in Victoria. It was like 6 weeks ago. He told me I'd make 25 bucks and hour and that he'd get 5 of that for finding me clients. I agreed.
The first thing I did was work on my online profile. Some of you may have sent personal references or whatever they're called. I also had to do paragraphs on several things like teaching style, personality, education and all that. Then I went to get a photo, paid 9 bucks for it too, for the online profile. I gave my address, number, availability and all that stuff. To this day I have no online profile.
But that was okay. Matthew had arranged a meet-and-greet with "between 60 and 90" students who are all studying at a Korean school here in Victoria called Kim Okran school. For those of you who know what this means, it's a hagwon. 3 days before the thing is supposed to happen I get a copy of these very DETAILED English evaluation forms we as tutors are supposed to use to level test students at this meet and greet. I had no idea this would be work. And it was work for free. Not the 20 bucks an hour we had agreed upon. So I asked Matthew who was getting the money for the interviews. He says to me that nobody is being charged admission to the meeting. I'm pretty sure he knew what I meant but I decided to give him another try. I wrote back and said that if I were to be paid 80 bucks for the 4 hours of level testing I would be doing I'd be there with bells on. He reiterated that nobody was paying admission for the event. So I KNEW then he was either too stupid to work with or he was being purposely evasive. He was getting paid by the hagwon for level testing their students and not sharing any of it with the people who did the interviewing. So I decided not to go.
When I told him this he was laying on the guilt trip really heavy. He even told me that one of his other tutors got injured. Either the tutor was smart like me and decided not to work for nothing and used that as an excuse, or Matthew fabricated it to make me feel even more guilty about not going. I felt no guilt whatsoever though unfortunately for him. He starts telling me that he's extremely disappointed that I would be so inconsiderate and I should in the future try to "commit to my commitments." I couldn't let that go could I? Of course not!
Two days before I was supposed to do the level testing Matthew sends me an email saying he urgently needs my address and phone number. Now, I gave him a resume at our interview; I GOT the interview after he read my resume and was impressed; and I had been giving him all kinds of information for my profile including my contact info. He lost it all. I don't think he had any intention of making me an online profile. Then he tried to rope me into working 4 hours for nothing even after we "committed" to a 80-20 split of 25 bucks for every hour I work for him. I did everything he asked for, put ALL the effort into our working relationship and he figures I'M the one who needs to honour his commitments. I told him with a warped sense of entitlement like that he'd better get used to people cancelling at the last minute or getting injured.
Anyway, I'm glad I didn't sign a one-year contract with that jackwagon before I found out he was exactly like every boss I've had in the ESL industry. But back to our original topic, I think I am just about at the bottom of the bad part of the cycle. That was it. I lucked into an interview for Corix to be a smartmeter installer around Victoria. It's better than any ESL job I could get. I'm hoping for that job. Also, I finally, (been waiting a month), write my security guard licence test on Friday after which I'll be working security. And the best news is, a lady is coming over Monday from a major school, (one of very few REAL ESL schools), to look at the house because I might get a homestay student. So this week will be my last week of unemployment and likely my last week at the bottom of the cycle. But I will try to be humble and frugal as I work my way up to the good part of the cycle. Maybe I'll start giving more money to the poor. Volunteering. Or something like that.
That's all for this entry. See you AROUND. ar ar ar
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
A Poem Inspired by Smithers
Having spent a few months in the great, northern, presently not hiring, mining town of Smithers I have come away with fewer dollars and perhaps the same feeling of goldlessness that inspired the gold rush way back in the day. Here's a little ditty written in the spirit, (and the exact rhyme scheme), of Rober W. Service, the bard of the Yukon. You may recognize the name as the one and only poet you didn't hate when you studied Canadian poetry in school. Anyhoo, it's called...
You Done Struck it Rich
Six years and a day me and Frank were away
in the mountains. I can’t tell you which.
“A pinch short of forty,” said assayer Dougherty,
“Fellas, you done struck it rich!”
Those words we both feared we’d never a’ heared
when we camped near the lake in the gorse.
We mentioned ‘em when we talked now and then,
and we never quit hopin’ o’ course.
But words can be cursed, an omen, or worse!
If I hear ‘em again I might die.
But to unsay what’s said is like raisin’ the dead:
it ain’t even worth it to try.
Now forty points pure is a powerful lure,
so we packed up to mine our claim.
Too big for our britches we thought that our riches
would purchase us fortune and fame.
We loaded two mules with some food n’ some tools.
The town gossipers were abuzz.
Then we bought in Frank’s name a registered claim
and told not a soul where it was.
Those words in our ears we hiked with our fears
always checkin’ behind as we went.
We were both bound and bent to keep every cent
of our fifty point zero percent.
We blabbed as we went how the money’d be spent
and our greed ran amok, (as it does).
See we’d found a rich vein near a glacial moraine
and we didn’t know how long it was.
“I’ll bet it’s a mile!” Frank said with a smile.
I said, “Mebbe two or three!”
With the stars in our eyes it was no surprise
our follower we didn’t see.
We lit up our tents, didn’t hide where we went,
over smoky campfires we ate.
I’d be wiser today but you know what they say,
“Old too soon, and smart too late.”
When we got to our find not an hour behind
rode a figure of hatred and dread.
It was Dougherty’s son and he had a gun.
“Much obliged gentlemen,” he said.
“You can go back to town while I re-stake this ground
Or else you can give me a hand.
Choice number three, fine and dandy with me,
I could murder you right where you stand.”
Shovel in hand Frank kicked at the sand,
“This is OUR claim and you know it!”
“Well I know that’s true, and my Daddy does too,
but our claims office simply won’t show it.”
Now Frank was a spry and sizeable guy
and I outweighed Dougherty’s son.
Frank flashed me a look and his meaning I took.
He was spoilin’ to git us that gun.
It cannot be said what goes through a man’s head
when he makes up his mind in a second.
Frank rushed to kill, but I stood stone still
and the boy’s draw was quicker than reckoned.
I’m sure I can’t say we’d a took him that day
if I’d joined in the scuffle as well.
But I know it’s a fact for my cowardly act
I’ll burn in the fires of hell.
I knelt by Frank’s side as he painfully died.
I was there till his body went cold.
But before he cashed in he said with a grin,
“No friendship’s as precious as gold.”
What could I do? I chose option two
and helped that young snake steal our gold.
He more accurately aimed the pistol at me.
I done all the work truth be told.
But before I began I buried the man
who considered me his friend.
I’d visit each dawn and go on and on
about how our vein wouldn’t end.
My eyes’d get moist, I’d alter my voice
to a timbre soft but strong,
then I’d draw myself near, say, “Wish you were here,”
and promise to prove Frank wrong.
I worked that vein in the sun and the rain
through summer until the late fall.
I told my dead friend that if there’s an end
I’d seen no signs at all.
And every night the boy hitched me tight
by my ankle to a tree.
He waited until the weather turned chill
before he unshackled me.
The boy said, “You need to pick up yer speed.
Yer no good to me if yer froze.
You bin fallin’ behind these days at the mine
with yer frostbitten fingers and toes.”
I thought that I might kill that bastard that night,
but he slept with his pistol nearby.
And the time wasn’t right on any one night.
When that rat let his guard down I’d try.
I ain’t got the ink to write what I think
and I ain’t got the words consarn it!
But the best way to say what I did night n’ day
is I danced with the Devil incarnate.
The dance wasn’t long. Fate didn’t prolong
the meal from me she stole.
It was short and sweet, I was skinny and weak.
Still She dined on me body and soul.
That cur turned away one cold, snowy day
and now my damnation is double.
I cried, “Yer wrong, Frank!” and chunked off a hank
of his skull with the edge of my shovel.
Two men are now dead and that plays in my head
like my personal homicide trial.
“Your actions were filthy,” the judge says, “You’re guilty!”
And I can’t conjure up a denial.
If I go back to town I’ll just git gunned down
for my gold or for my offenses.
“There must be some way,” I thought every day
before I came to my senses.
I am doomed to grow old on this mountain o’ gold.
Maybe I’ll die in my eighties.
“You done struck it rich!” Well son of a bitch,
I can’t spend a nickel in Hades!
It's good to be back online again. Keep an eye out friends, I'm back!
You Done Struck it Rich
Six years and a day me and Frank were away
in the mountains. I can’t tell you which.
“A pinch short of forty,” said assayer Dougherty,
“Fellas, you done struck it rich!”
Those words we both feared we’d never a’ heared
when we camped near the lake in the gorse.
We mentioned ‘em when we talked now and then,
and we never quit hopin’ o’ course.
But words can be cursed, an omen, or worse!
If I hear ‘em again I might die.
But to unsay what’s said is like raisin’ the dead:
it ain’t even worth it to try.
Now forty points pure is a powerful lure,
so we packed up to mine our claim.
Too big for our britches we thought that our riches
would purchase us fortune and fame.
We loaded two mules with some food n’ some tools.
The town gossipers were abuzz.
Then we bought in Frank’s name a registered claim
and told not a soul where it was.
Those words in our ears we hiked with our fears
always checkin’ behind as we went.
We were both bound and bent to keep every cent
of our fifty point zero percent.
We blabbed as we went how the money’d be spent
and our greed ran amok, (as it does).
See we’d found a rich vein near a glacial moraine
and we didn’t know how long it was.
“I’ll bet it’s a mile!” Frank said with a smile.
I said, “Mebbe two or three!”
With the stars in our eyes it was no surprise
our follower we didn’t see.
We lit up our tents, didn’t hide where we went,
over smoky campfires we ate.
I’d be wiser today but you know what they say,
“Old too soon, and smart too late.”
When we got to our find not an hour behind
rode a figure of hatred and dread.
It was Dougherty’s son and he had a gun.
“Much obliged gentlemen,” he said.
“You can go back to town while I re-stake this ground
Or else you can give me a hand.
Choice number three, fine and dandy with me,
I could murder you right where you stand.”
Shovel in hand Frank kicked at the sand,
“This is OUR claim and you know it!”
“Well I know that’s true, and my Daddy does too,
but our claims office simply won’t show it.”
Now Frank was a spry and sizeable guy
and I outweighed Dougherty’s son.
Frank flashed me a look and his meaning I took.
He was spoilin’ to git us that gun.
It cannot be said what goes through a man’s head
when he makes up his mind in a second.
Frank rushed to kill, but I stood stone still
and the boy’s draw was quicker than reckoned.
I’m sure I can’t say we’d a took him that day
if I’d joined in the scuffle as well.
But I know it’s a fact for my cowardly act
I’ll burn in the fires of hell.
I knelt by Frank’s side as he painfully died.
I was there till his body went cold.
But before he cashed in he said with a grin,
“No friendship’s as precious as gold.”
What could I do? I chose option two
and helped that young snake steal our gold.
He more accurately aimed the pistol at me.
I done all the work truth be told.
But before I began I buried the man
who considered me his friend.
I’d visit each dawn and go on and on
about how our vein wouldn’t end.
My eyes’d get moist, I’d alter my voice
to a timbre soft but strong,
then I’d draw myself near, say, “Wish you were here,”
and promise to prove Frank wrong.
I worked that vein in the sun and the rain
through summer until the late fall.
I told my dead friend that if there’s an end
I’d seen no signs at all.
And every night the boy hitched me tight
by my ankle to a tree.
He waited until the weather turned chill
before he unshackled me.
The boy said, “You need to pick up yer speed.
Yer no good to me if yer froze.
You bin fallin’ behind these days at the mine
with yer frostbitten fingers and toes.”
I thought that I might kill that bastard that night,
but he slept with his pistol nearby.
And the time wasn’t right on any one night.
When that rat let his guard down I’d try.
I ain’t got the ink to write what I think
and I ain’t got the words consarn it!
But the best way to say what I did night n’ day
is I danced with the Devil incarnate.
The dance wasn’t long. Fate didn’t prolong
the meal from me she stole.
It was short and sweet, I was skinny and weak.
Still She dined on me body and soul.
That cur turned away one cold, snowy day
and now my damnation is double.
I cried, “Yer wrong, Frank!” and chunked off a hank
of his skull with the edge of my shovel.
Two men are now dead and that plays in my head
like my personal homicide trial.
“Your actions were filthy,” the judge says, “You’re guilty!”
And I can’t conjure up a denial.
If I go back to town I’ll just git gunned down
for my gold or for my offenses.
“There must be some way,” I thought every day
before I came to my senses.
I am doomed to grow old on this mountain o’ gold.
Maybe I’ll die in my eighties.
“You done struck it rich!” Well son of a bitch,
I can’t spend a nickel in Hades!
It's good to be back online again. Keep an eye out friends, I'm back!
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