Someone suggested I blog this. I love old machines. Old machines, truck graveyards, rusted equipment things found in barns left to the dust for decades Tell a story of life that is very parallel to a human's story one of use and suffering Where things in older vehicles are a "little rough around the edges" and not everyone can drive an old vehicle or use an old machine we've lost touch of the ability to de-coque a valve head to prime cylinders to manually pump and maintain fuel flows people don't even have gauges in cars anymore. they have disconnected from them and turned the car or machine itself into a lower, abused thing. And when I'm in the graveyard and I see a 1940s truck, with it's big steel smile and bulbous features I personify it. And I touch it and smell it and if there is one, I'll sit in the seat and let it talk to me It tells me tales of it's life. How for even it's most major faults it was loved. It was a part of the family. Part of the Ranch. Part of the business when there is a slight issue with a machine of ours, it is substandard. It isn't cool. It's not immediately rewarding And it's either cast aside to the trash heap or hesitantly brought to mechanics because of a squeeking door. We don't want to hear or see how hot the engine is running. "It's not my concern" people don't care if the fuel is crap. We get upset at the machine itself because it's seemingly the machine's fault. And this has translated to how we treat each other. I find beauty in the old machines. I think it's fantastic that they need primed, massaged and tuned to life. And I am jealous for my parents and their parents for having such a good friend and for having the patience to have this friend. And I feel the same when one of my cars is taken away as I did when my piano teacher walked out. Or my father packed his bags for that matter. this sentiment is at the heart of Goth Goth is the beautiful acceptance of this failure, and Steampunk celebrates defiance. I don't give up. Ever. I fight with every ounce of my being. I can't imagine another way. The idea of reclusion and acceptance is one that is alien to me. Well, acceptance of misery and failure. And deceit, betrayal, attack and subterfuge And humilation. I fight. I fight with everything I have. I fight with a passion in my heart that it defies definition or reason The concept of not accepting a challenge and beating it are alien to me. I can't comprehend abandonment. I feel that no one deserves to be abandoned. Ever.