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The Authentic Eclectic
The Self-Made Man
I met a man who makes carbon steel woks. He hates making them, but he liked coming up with the idea. He doesn’t have to use his mind to produce them, doesn’t have to think or feel.
That’s why he hates making them.
Because of his woks, he has shitloads of money, cars, vacation homes, and jewelry. He’s the Great Gatsby of Woks. He says he flies around here and there on his private jet with lots of girls at his side. I guess he’s a jet setter too.
I only spoke to him for only a few minutes in the Eastern Metaphysics aisle of the Bodhi Tree Book store on Melrose in West Hollywood. In those few minutes, he spilled his life out and handed me his card. Real Carbon Woks.
His luck ran out last week when his CESSNA Single Engine plane flew smack into the San Bernardino Mountains, bits and pieces scattering across the rim of the World Scenic Byway during primetime mountain traffic. The woks were unscarred, just covered in ashes from their boxes.
Nobody knows what happened. There was no engine trouble, no mechanical difficulties. Nothing. Just bounced off the mountain and ended on the highway for locals to thank God it wasn’t them.
“Poor sucker,” one mountain local said, snapping a few selfies in front of the plane.
