A man of grease
By: David Xerri
A man of grease, is a man of no limitations. The machine is never the goal; it is merely a realization that his machinery has not met the ability of his mind.
Because of this, satisfaction is unkown to the man of grease.
The machine that is truly divine, that takes pure function, and combines it with pure form, is the machine that sleep is substituted by thought for. An hour of thought may turn into a lifetime of devotion; and because countless hours are spent in deep thought, the man of grease lives an infinite life.
Interest turns to addiction, and as a needle is master of the heroin addict, the hum of machinery is ruler of the man of grease.
The man of grease realizes more then any mortal man. The realization that there is always friction; always resistance- is the decline of the man of grease. He hears what no other man does, sees what isn’t seen, and feels with his heart and mind, for his fingers are numb from his work.
Long after the open sores turn to callus, the man of grease works on. The grime stains his fingers, yet he turns another wrench. Blood and oil become one as another cut goes unnoticed to the man who devotes his life to the grease.
The strength of metal goes beyond that of the physical. Many men have worked until they could no longer move, and when the could no longer move, they cried at the realization that their hands were clean, that silence surrounded them.
A man of grease speaks to his machinery. He knows every curve in every wrench, in many cases more fondly than that of his lover.
I am, a man of grease.
