It's a real pity but some stuff you gotta be real secret agent like with codes, mis-information and double bluff stuff. So this day had just been cloaked in dagger stuff with right at the end me admitting my thing, and it just occurred at that moment, is that I kinda con the con-men, nothing nefarious mind, gently as she goes and all that... but still.
But let this cliche start at the beginning, let's wind it all back, and push the start button just after dawn, well a fair bit after dawn as it was still dark when I got up, but suffice to say the chill was still on many.
Another anonymous government department meeting to decide the countries future even whilst that percentage is well behind the decimal point, it's still a percentage and the percentage is me.
Even outside waiting I've decided to spread the chat about and it's old Holden's and what a lovely scarf that is and if I ever did get to Fiji it'd be up in the mountains with the dusky hillbillies... I'm contagious today.
And inside and it's a nod and a wink, bygone days of growin' weed, the motorcycles almost given away 'cause luck shouldn't be tempted too much even if it grows wings. Man, rest in peace, I have got your back.
So outta there and still a free man I went chasin' after the Nuiean but he weren't there so I passed on the good luck that I might be able to swing a buyer for his trike to the wife and theres a man in the office, all above the boards, and he's on our side. She'd said no money comin' in, no pay cheques at all, and he could sell some 'merican iron but he does love that trike, and yes, learn to let his love go and she's smiling.
But she did tell me where he's at. Top of the road, a rented space, and there I am and again I'm offering connections just found to the Hindu man and his son who told me he can do the moon walk, except in my haste I managed to lock the key in the car. I found some of that strapping plastic but it wasn't wide enough and the door jambs are too deep anyways for that old trick. 'Got insurance? Just smash the window" said a few, but back into the dairy asking for wider tape to at least try that way the old man behind the counter hands me a wire coat hanger. That's even older school than my old school but by then a Tongon chap turns up with a window wiper tensioning rod... they also make good thumb piano blades. Long story short the Nuiean turned up too and we levered the top of the door with a screw driver, and as all the attempts to move handles and pull knobs didn't work, it was simply a matter of grabbin' the key sittin' on the seat in plain site, duh, and fishin' it out through the forced gap. Sorted and bows all round.
The days still well early so I head off to see the Californian. He's almost as old as my Mum and I found him way back in the late eighties to teach me some skills. But he was way expensive and it turned out this land was too mad and intricate for a man used to a Long Beach telephone directory so we did swaps where I'd find stuff he needed and he'd give me info and choice bit's of exotic timber to play with.
'Cause he'd called me, got hold of me, and it might even be work so off I go and this guy is a legend. Brought up on a military base where naughty was the kids takin' tanks for joy rides then got a technical education and was there in Nasa for Rockwell doing Apollo shit, dropped out which was the done thing and supplied exotic weed to the Grateful Dead and other such luminaries of the time before easing back into repairin' and moddin' the gizmo's for sound weirdness.
So yup, we go back a ways, though I don't see him much and it's another wife answering another back door and the Californian ain't doin' too good but she did go and ask which kinda makes me a credit card with preferred status. Hope he's not dyin' though...
Then I remember power station girl lives up the road, the new rented abode got for a song, and just remember the address. Yup, 'nother long story but she's missed her bus so a chat as we drive her to a festival movie... nice.
Nagging though isn't the word, kinda of an itch, as i drive away so the meeting spot it is. That infamous road where all you gotta do is find a place, which I've got, and all sorts of weird and wonderful gets refound, linked in and connected up, for whatever dastardly plot might need dastarding.
And there he is, even he knows it right away. Turns out he's got screen man's old place and a dead man's collection of super high end thermionic play stuff, hand wound this and NOS glass bottle that from a Maestro I should have known... and it seems I was in his will, which was never written of course, but praise be, it's all for me. Quite possibly a done deal when I mentioned that this summer's playlist will feature lifting a roof to do a new room designed at base camp to be the electronics and yoga studio.
Maybe the industry of music is calling out again to jump right in 'cause then it occurs grumbly bastard, last time I visited, with his heaped up collections of tarnish and well handled, might be worth a visit. His initial though is abrupt, like I said grumbly bastard, but I'm just here to browse but then he clicks and it's a marathon of inconsequential connections from Italian brassworks to garden store and poolshop chemistry... good, we're friends again, not that I ever ain't with nobody, but peoples funny that way. Get a glitch and ride the self importance scolding all and sundry... grumbly bastards.
All the stuff's fair heapin' up like the World's well over my holiday and wants me back... maybe that's how it works though? Some ultra fine line between completely uninterested and fuckin' passionate as, maybe not even a line and the only two for one deal worth not reading the fine print... ever.
Now I'm home, the cats are fed, Cookies sleeping and Tutties out patrolling the boundaries... time for a fire!
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