Art Philosophy - Cars

"Hey, LSP, can you help me out? I need to go to Fort Worth today for a procedure and need a driver." It was my EMU friend who's famous for driving a crew of motorcycle hippies out of his stock tank. "Sure, I'd be happy to help out."

Quite.

So off we went, all the way down I35W to Fort Worth's Southside. It's not too far from downtown and owned by the medical and hospitality industry. All kinds of hipster bars and eateries, which I toured while my friend was under. Did I stop in any? No. I did not.

Procedure over, we drove back to the country and my friend's barn, "Hey, LSP, have a look at these." Curious, I went through a doorway and there were these cars.

A '40(?) Ford Coupe, a '69 Chevy Camino SS, an '81 Corvette and another Ford Coupe, V8 and hotrod, immaculate. "Don't touch, LSP."

I was amazed  and laughed. "Is that a good laugh or a bad laugh, LSP?" It was good, and would it be OK to take some photos? "Sure thing," so I did. Who knew, certainly not me, that here in this Texan barn was a collection of cars, like works of art.

But what was the reason behind the collection, apart from the sheer good of the things in themselves? Why these as opposed to others? 

Simple answer. They were the cars of his youth, after he'd left the Forces and two tours in Vietnam. He loved them then and decided to collect them now. I'll leave you to parse this not insignificant art philosophy. 

Your Pal,

LSP

Road Warrior

C'mon kid, let's roll, which roughly translated means, hurry up, we're walking to school with the dogs via the Pick 'n Steal for coffee and I don't want you late.

Soon enough we were over the start line and heading for the Shamrock, staffed by Nepalese, thank you very much and mind the kukri, with Friday gamboling along like a puppy and Blue following at a more sedate pace.

Blue Valhalla's getting on in years and someone's been stealth feeding him when I'm not looking, so he's getting a bit portly. This isn't fair on the furry protector and means I'll have to put a lock on his feed bin or maybe a sign, "DON'T OPEN THIS. IT WILL EXPLODE AND DESTROY YOU."

Coffee, school, and dog walk objectives reached, I relaxed on the front office porch and thought about the effect of various bullets on my YETI mug; a range day's obviously in order. Then, Daily Office said, I drove to Fort Worth down good old I35W.

It's not a bad drive until you get to the metrosprawl, then it's a nightmare. What evil satanic geniuses convinced the American public to live in vast plastic sided suburbs, intersected by highways roaring past decaying strip malls. It's bad enough now, imagine the future.

One day the plastic will sag, decay, and fall, leaving square miles of chipboard houses to quietly implode back to nature while the highways collapse; the sheer slum of it will challenge all but the bravest explorers. Remortgage that, I dare you.

Regardless, I made it to the clergy day at Holy Apostles and very edifying it was too. Bishop Iker gave a good presentation on the state of the litigation against the Diocese and Dr. Stephen Noll talked about marriage. 

After lunch, I headed back to the compound, picked up the kid, drove him to work, drove back to the Compound, drove to Lake Whitney to say Mass and watched a film because it was the church's film night.

We watched the Gospel of John, which is just that, the Gospel of John narrated, with actors doing their thing in the background. I love John's Gospel. Then, kid being delivered to the church, it was time to brave TX-22 and get back to base.

The dogs were excited to see us. The pack was back, and I tell you, several hundred miles worth of driving aside, it all made for a good break from watching WWIII unfold in Syria and the slow moving coup against the President.

I file this exciting story under "road warrior."

God bless,

LSP

If You Meet The Buddha On The Road Shoot It

Taking a leaf out of Mr. Kerouac's book, I got on the road with a view to visiting the sick in Fort Worth and escaping the anguished howls of whining fauxtrage emanating from Hollywood celebs and Lena Dunham over Trump's armed forces trans ban. 

Jack Kerouac

I took the Cadet, by way of company, and explained the situation. "You see, old chap, this woman's on a ventilator and might not get better, so I've got to go. Conscience demands it, to say nothing of the Gospel," all very to the point and thank you very much. "But what if we meet the Buddha on the road?" asked the young 'un, suddenly turning all Cassady. "Oh, that's easy. Shoot it, right through the ****ing swede."

Shoot it

We arrived in Fort Worth without incident, thank God, and I left my interlocutor in the hospital cafe while I went upstairs and administered Last Rites. I pray my friend recovers full health. And here's the thing, Pastors.

You've Got A Lot To Answer For, You Two.

If you feel a pang of conscience, an instinct or intuition that you should visit someone in trouble, act on it, don't delay. Notwithstanding the Buddha, of course, which you're at liberty to shoot on the road. And while we're at it, Jack Kerouac was a Mass going Catholic. So was the freakish Andy Warhol.

Not a lot of people know that.

God bless,

LSP

On The Road

I drove to a suburb of Fort Worth this morning. It took one and a half hours to get there, the worst of which was through the metrosprawl. Someone hasn't told the DFW civic planners that highways running through, across and over a town doesn't make for a pleasant urban environment. Visit Venice and see its famous 6 lane highway bisecting St. Mark's Square! said no tourist brochure ever.

Seriously, after a good few thousand years of Western civilization, you'd think we could do better than turn our cities into roads. Like, what's best to live in, a city or a road? Let's think about that; road, city, city, road, hmmmm... road? 

Road trip over, I ended up at the cathedral, which is a good church, and went to a meeting. A bishop who I like very much was there and had a parrot on his shoulder. It's an aggressive beast and attacks people who try to pet it.

At the end of the meeting I drove back home through the 'sprawl to the countryside. Blue Exertion was there, taking it easy in the sun and I don't blame him. 

Later on today I'll drive to another church and, by the end of it all, feel like a travelling salesman. But hey, all in a good cause.

If you meet the Buddha on the road, kill it.

LSP