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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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The pendulum having swung to it's predictable seasonal low, money now completely evaporated and time to rein in the vices. Vodka, none. Cigarettes, none. Now these things, these are trifles, the empty fridge, well, less of a trifle.
Get off my ass, apply for a half dozen jobs I'm grossly overqualified for. And wait for no responses and a renewal of the adverts looking for staff and the inevitable complaints of businesses that they can't find anyone to work...
Not my problem, my problem is I'm more than a few dollars short.
The Vodka, this was long overdue to be given up and a few days in and I'm feeling like a new man. The cigarette habit is a bit harder to shake and so I pick up my vape pen, long ignored, and begin taking a puff on it once in a while when I'm feeling the absence of nicotine.
The Vape Pen, it's filled with some CBD/Sativa pot blend. I have no fucking clue, I'm not a pothead and have no pretensions in that department. And - for a while it eases the withdrawal.
The problem, of course, is that by noon I'm fucking zoodled, and pot doesn't agree with me. I get nauseous, or ravenous, often both, and there's no remedy. The initial "high", aside from making me incredibly unmotivated and wanting to nap (and I'm besieged with bizarre imagery, stoned imagery a-la marijuana, the imagery varying greatly depending on my mood, often more 'restless' than impressive, and I talk to pothead friends and they look at me like I'm crazy, because they don't get it...) is followed by an overwhelming anxiety.
This, I know, is a side effect of pot, for me at least, and from what I've read others get this as well, but...
Eventually the day is over, and the next day it begins again...wake up still stoned from the day before, take shallower and shallower puffs on the vape, I'm the lamest pothead out there but it's time to shake some bad habits, not acquire new ones, and the last thing I want to do is die a smoker or raging alcoholic, these things, they'll follow you into the next life and I'm at that age where it's time to begin preparations...
Anyways, there are people out here that live day to day 10X as stoned as I've ever been from dawn 'til dusk, and it helps me a great deal to understand how this economy functions...
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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It's true, you can have too much of a good thing.
Party, Spirit Bar, Friday night. And after party. And then home by 5:00 AM to sleep it off, only...
Well, Saturday wake up at 5:00, not feeling so good. Not bad, just not...
And bed by 10:00 and again today, up at 8:30, and it still feels like various elements of my personality went on walk-about, I'm a little discombobulated and fully appreciate those who get lost after Shambala and never make it home...
It's a curious feeling that encourages me to consider some restraint at these events...
Anyways, waiting, waiting for it to all come back together...
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Scrolling through old photos to put together banners for the site, there are a lot of old photos. In my Google acct. there are thousands, on my phone as well.
I come to the old photos, Son, as a child, well dressed, on my shoulders, baby photos. And the Daughter, cute as ever, and old unrecognizable photos of myself, ...
I have to stop, the time flies and just looking at the photos make years pass. I'm gone in mind for weeks, and when I get back to the present I find only a few short minutes have past.
I have a fear of Nostalgia, of old people that live forever in the "good old days". When you start looking back the void is quick to rise up in front of you...
The same with Music. I generally despise the music of my youth, not because it was bad, but because it was overplayed, hundreds, thousands of times over, stripping it of it's freshness, novelty, associations, because it's become the background music to a generation of old bikers and hippies...
That said, I've been listening to Fludd - Cousin Mary, which seems to strike a chord. From here to Led Zeppelin's "House of the Holy", - The Rain Song, followed by Over the Hills and Far Away, and finish with The Ocean, which I don't like so much as admire the way they lightly introduce the drumming and riffs to be found later in Fool in the Rain.
This is of course gold for YouTube, they begin feeding me all sorts of old music, and I hate this, living in the past, and so I switch up and listen to some Michael Kiwanuka - Love & Hate & Cold Little Heart, still in the past, but not so far.
I need to find some contemporary sources for music, these mixes, they're good once in a blue moon, but only once in a blue moon.
It's the same with Facebook, reinforcing what you like, dating you, any chance looks back, clicks on comics you might remember, and it's quick to reinforce it with more, keeps you mired in the old and stale times of yore, confirming all of your worst boomer prejudices...
Although I've been rather off Facebook later, I never was on it for more than the infinite scroll of inanity, and I think I've reached my limit.
But now is the time, in age, to ignore the past, keep walking away from it, ignore it or at best check it in the rearview mirror, or you'll become stalled and stagnant, this probably kills as many people as the broken hip or short falls on slight stairs..
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This morning, the last of the warmer days before a predicted cold snap. And so I head off bright & early to Balfour.
I'm on the 7:15 bus, and for what should be a damned fine day it sure is a damned fine cold morning.
Arrive, 8:00, the water is low. I start in the washout, a few bits of flint, one piece worked, the others debitage. Nothing worth photographing. I comb the beach, back and forth, a few unworked pieces of flint, rose quartz, what appears to be agate, nothing worth collecting, careful to keep out of the line of sight of the old restaurant.
By 9:30 I'm done. It's still a bit too early, brisk for this, and I've found nothing to spur me on to look longer & harder.
And that's that. Curiosity slaked, but no treasures.
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And talking to J***, the gentleman I helped to move, he's telling us stories of the mines and Fort Mac. The drug policies, of interest, 0 tolerance for drugs, you have to have gone 12 hours without alcohol (they're not being too unreasonable there), but they test as well for Cocaine, Marijuana, etc.
They don't fuck around. IN the mines, if there's an accident underground the whole crew is tested, if any are positive they're all let go. It doesn't matter. Marijuana, that stays in your system 30 days. So nobody on these crews smokes dope. Cocaine, on the other hand, only stays around for 4...
You get the idea. They're 2 weeks in, 2 weeks out, and everyone has a plan when they first get back to civilization...
***
J*** is telling us how when he was in Fort Mac. the guy he's with eats a handful of sawdust. He observes, a couple of times, the guy reaching into his pocket, taking out a handful of sawdust and chewing it down. So by and by he asks the question, and the guy explains that tomorrow's payday...
This explains nothing, and so after a bit J*** asks for clarification. Payday, all the workers gather and there's a regatta. The Fort McMurray yachting club. Everyone lays out a turd on the tailing pond, the first one across wins, the loser loses his cheque.
It's important the turd floats, hence he's devouring sawdust.
Now you know where my mind is going, I'm picturing a regatta of sloops and sailing boats, all outfitted with toothpick masts and toilet paper sails, the occasional pirate flag, the cultural elite of Alberta on the sidelines, cheques in hand, cheering them all on...I imagine the trophy that comes with the winning, a (of necessity) "Shit" in a bottle sat upon the proud winners mantelpiece...
If you've never lived in Alberta you wouldn't believe it. If you have you know you're only getting the bits fit for "public" consumption...
But if you wanted to explain the politics this is where you'd start...