January 30, 2014 by vinylburns
Today was International Day of the Swiss Lion. I went for my usual celebratorial chocolate cheese breakfast brunch at my local cafe/laundromat, The Wilting Puffin. It’s a bitter sweet place, steeped in the sombre darkness of 4 decades of morning recovery, and early afternoon regret. I bounced smalltalk across the counter, with my friend, barista and egg farmer, Jagger Portsmouth.
We agree on most issues of the day… For instance, that if you need a body guard, you’re too successful. If what you do with your art, has impacted upon people so deeply that the only way they can show their appreciation is to hurt you… Well, you’re basically a terrorist, and you need, at the very least, a good smack in the nose. Justin.
We also agree’s that the boatload of Cannibal rats, would be worse… It could be hungry hungry hippos, and they could be coming ashore somewhere that has oil… That’d mean another war on terror, or vermin, or whatever hippos are… Cows? I think they’re a kind of cow, but with teeth, or fangs… Do hippos walk upright?
Jagger, apart from being named after both a British rockstar, and a German fruit juice, is an interesting beast of an entrepreneur. He runs a number of (mostly illegal, so I won’t mention details) bars and card rooms around the Wairarapa region. He has 7 wives, each from different jurisdictions of his many faiths, and all based in countries that are a bit relaxed about paperwork, so it’s working out fine for now…
He makes a $2000 annual loss, on paper, but almost always has more cash in his many, many pockets ( http://www.scottevest.com ) than a small town could spend in a month. In fact, he sometimes employs a guy to carry some of it in HIS pockets. There’s a lot of trust involved, of course, but it’s clearly understood that the abuse of that trust, would result in a lot of death… So trust is really all you need.
I’ve taken Jagger’s advice on several business moves I’ve made in recent times, so I find myself indebted to him in many different ways.
Some days I feel I owe him my life. Some days, I feel like I would gladly hand him control of my life plan, and let him chart an intoxicating course for me, over the unknown horizon of foreverness. Most days though, I just quietly suspect that may have already happened, and that my soy flappucino should be about half the price he’s charging me… Who can really say. And who can really complain.
For some people, living life and being alive, is all chakra’s yin-yang, voodoo and jasmine… For others, It’s all fleeting power meetings and forced retreats…
There’s a lot of internal review, and emergency deliberation… Which is fine if you need it… I’m not sure I do.
For me, it’s the ability to brush aside the real and serious concerns of human existence and get on with my five-star life, that’s kept me trucking, like an 18 wheeler on the desert road to freestyle Armageddon.
When it comes down to it, the one true test of a man, or a lady, or a lady man… The one true test is to know, when you find yourself in a public toilet, with no toilet paper… Which item of clothing are YOU going to choose?
It’s that simple.
You can own bars, love ladies, write poetry, weave textiles… But if you can’t make a giant decision in a heartbeat, you’re just a lonely passenger waiting on an icy platform, as SuperTrain screams past you, into the luscious lady-arms of tomorrow.
My secret? I just believe my own press… And why wouldn’t I? I write it.
This is Vinyl Burns. Speaking the truth. With My Mouth.