finally left the city

 I waited an extra effing month because of Dan, primarily, although the death of Timmy played no small part. So I gave him a deadline.  So he decided to blow it.  So I'm on the road without him.  I'm only about 2.5 hours down the road, so he can easily catch up.

I fetched up in a terribly desolate mud lot. dust, debris, barbed wire and scrub weeds behind that with a pile of dirt like a pimple in one spot. the wind is blowing like it's out in Saskatchewan and has zero obstacles to slow it's journey across the land.  Luckily it's not blowing in from the waste water plant just over the way here.

My bus was overheating on the way here but it was being asked to try and haul everything up hills at 90km/h and once I settled for 79, we found a nice niche and I even used the throttle locker to put her on a steady throttle so I could bounce my feet.

As to music, I still have not found a good solution.  All my speakers are dead or dying, really, same with my mp3 players.  Even the old boombox out back can't run cds anymore because it's power brick died and it won't last more than a few minutes on batteries.  I can use the radio, and I do.  I'd like to get something new that does cd, flash or microsd, radio, and input.  And fits in a bread box. The one out back is absurdly large, meant for a worksite, to be seen.  It can put out some decent sound, I'd like that again.  If I manage to earn income, that's on the christmas present list, I guess?  I dunno, it's a lower priority than a new solar charger.  The batteries are at 12.1 on this smokey day.  Ideally they'd be closer to 13 on a sunny day.  the smoke is so very thick and it covers the whole continent, it seems. Writing about it seems like the opener to a post apocalyptic fiction story.  Wherein the narrative is doing a prequel or flashback exposition moment.  

I really should get back to my novel, though. Even if there's nothing to do with it. I might actually know enough now to get past the hurdles.  I would feel a lot of pride to say I had finished a book.  Actually, I have, I finished the tarot book ages ago, and the cards are made, so I have written a book, and painted a deck of cards, and I don't know what to do with them.

there's that kickstarter thing, but I think the money would get sucked away by my tax debt anyway.  I mean, assuming there was any.  I don't have that kind of a "fan base" or community network and stuff.  I'm just out here doing daily triage on my life. 

Heh, another good line.  Did you see it?  Are you there?  Well, honestly, I set this up so I would never know.  I can see by the stats that there's been visitors, and that's it.

It's just that I get so invested in things when other people are involved. Anxious and stressed and quick to emotions.  Emotions like pride, shame, loss of expectation, imposter syndrome, whatever the outcome, I'm going to be wasting a lot of time processing it.  

iIm at such a very distant corner from the service hub here that it really feels desolate.  Were it not for the engine noises, I could feel utterly alone.

I bet I should be giving thanks for the intense wind as it allows us to leave the bus.  I expect without it, the bug swarms would be impossible.  I gotta dig out my bug suit.  I forget where I put it.  I can find the hat, but the pants and shirt?  It's made of fine loose mesh all over so it's not too warm and keeps the critters off.  It looks a bit fragile for hiking.  For gong outside the bus, it would be ok.  I really don't need to. Except to put away screens, table, and back door ladder. Now there's a thing it would be cool to stow on the back, but in a quick move way.  I can't honestly picture a way that would be easy, though. It can't obstruct the back door, see.  If I want to exit from the rear, I don't need that blocking me.  The other day someone was banging on my door, I was still in bedroom mode with three layers of whatever up front to get through.  So I came round the back. Also a more defensible position as these were a group of people in high vis vests and now they're not having a door open in their faces.  Fire marshals and such love to barge in.

Dan surprised a furtive skulker the other night who insisted he wasn't gong to steal the bike, without any need of prompting!  Funny thing, I know that, it's well locked up.  Dan opened the door and Rene bolted past him and circled the stranger, sniffing him. All in all, it was a reminder that there's not a lot of safe places.  I think this place today is extremely safe.  Way off here, in the middle of nowhere at the back of a trucks only parking lot made of gravel and dust.  This little town's claim to fame is only it's location on the routes from here to there or the other place.

I told Dan, next time, don't open the door.  If you must go out, use the farther door so they can't get a shoe in. That it's better to speak through the window or even fire up the bus and honk the horn, run the lights, etc.  Which reminds me, I don't see to have hazard switches.  Damn good thing I have flares, I guess.  I suppose turning on the left side blinker would suffice if I was forced to sit on the highway shoulder.  I did have to slow right  down on the way here when the bus overheated. I let her roll at almost an idle, knowing that she cools off faster with her fan and radiator than just sitting, even with the hood off.  when I found a field pullout, I backed into it and just let the bus idle until the temp guage was better. This bus was from a northern place that rarely sees these temps, could be she has a thermometer better suited to cooler ranges than currently being experienced?  But that would mean she's always open...  It could be the bicycle blocking the air.  It's not solid anywhere but it's more crap in the way of the air nonetheless.  I will check the fluids tomorrow, and then proceed at 80kmph henceforth. Somehow I do need to get the manifold done and the brakes gone over at least, and calibrated.  There are two brake related idiot lights and a buzzer.  I do not want to tackle the mountains like this.  Even the relatively flat prairies is taxing Mackay when there are valleys.  I let her smooth down, but she has to work back up.  she did ok on the last big one, not asking her to speed up, but still giving her a little extra throttle. I think she's a fussy engine in how you handle her.   Well all the old engines are, really.  If you get the feel of it, learn what sounds right or wrong, and fix all the stupid little things you can, it can often result in a very smooth partnership between man and machine.  Also, nothing fell today.  I remembered all the straps. Rene, unfortunately, got a little abused for being a pain in the ass at every moment the bus would stop.  She would squeal to be let off.  Well that is never going to work, but she doesn't stop, and I get so damn tense right now with this new vehicle, I just can't take the squeaking and the frowning and the stumbling over her.  I just want her to sit or lay on the couch or floor and wait on me.

As I write this, fortunately, I see what my next step must be. I just have to fully ignore her when she is annoying.  Utterly and completely ghost that noise.  Today was not ok.  It wasn't cruel, yet, but it wasn't kind, for sure.  And it's clearly a downward spiral I don't want to continue. Oh mostly hard shoves toward the couch and far too much verbal abuse.  It raises the temperature, I get steadily more unhappy, she gets more anxious, it's just plain stupid and I need to pivot.  I actually do know it's better to just ghost that behaviour as much as possible.

I feel a little better having thought that through and come up with a plan.  It's been eating at me every time we drive the bus and she's just not stopping with it and I'm not handling it right. 

I recently saw the digital image of the painting that is hanging from my dash.  It's van gogh's paris cafe at night. Now maybe he did repeats, but this paint by number looks much different, really  I still like it, so that's fine.  the starry night one is growing on me, especially since learning there were  a number of them in different color ways, and this isn't a bastardisation at all.  I mean, one part of the paint by number is it will always be a bit clunky because there needs to be room for the printing in each brush stroke, and the artist doesn't work like that. Because he layers, the PBN guy is working from the top only, outlining only the colors left behind.

Oh why do I feel so anxious all the time? Still?

I had a fab conversation with a guy whom, it turns out, knew wandering spirit.  It was such a delight to connect that way.  We sat and chatted awhile about things and stuff and it was really nice.  I never felt disrespected or used as an audience or peered at as a freak.  It felt good.

whoops, missed dog feeding time.