rainy mush day

December 11, 2021

It’s raining in Sandy Mush today. I’ve been walking outside. Dancing. Splashing in puddles. Watching the creek fill up with water. The storms move across the sky. It is a good day to drink tea and reflect. I have just come from a junkyard in Bryson City. A few of my observations…

Time stopped in the junkyard at 2:32:44. No way to tell if it was AM/PM. The tick tock of the clock had come to an end without anyone noticing. The days moved on and people continued at the pace they had always kept while the clocks stopped its tick tick tocking.

A mechanic shop. A storage yard. Junk. A place where people could stow away items that were broken, tired, and weary. A place where you wouldn't expect a functioning clock because all else remained stalled out or stuck.

A dog barks. A door slams. Broken window panes. The occasional breeze brings fresh air into an otherwise unbearable work room full of dust, oil, grime, and piss. The likes of which you've never seen before.

At first glance, everything seems untouchable. Dirty. But that is just the surface. Under the surface, there is potential for everything. Parts and pieces. Motors that still run. Frames and structures. Everything awaiting imagination. And the people here. Some of you might call them greasers. They see the treasure amongst the trash and rebuild those things that have been broken.

So frequently we discard something when it breaks.

But in the junkyard, it is accepted practice to reuse and repurpose.