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For Sale: 1 Antique Mineral Water Bottle
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: For Sale
- Hits: 2279
Price: $10.00Provenance: I acquired this fine empty bottle whilst kayaking the northwest passage. I was searching for Polar Bears to wrestle, this being a hobby of mine (and far more manly than just slaying them), when after 1 particularly long session with a Giant Polar bear and her 3 cubs I retired to my kayak for a drink.
Now before you get all liberal and indignant let me remind you that it's volunteer rangers like me that keep the North safe from the gathering hordes of Polar Bears that lurk pretty much everywhere north of Edmonton. Safe so tourists like you can go on your little luxury cruises and junkets.
Now I was thirsty and so I went back to my Kayak for a drink
And as luck would have it my (formerly) trusty Inuit guide "Nanook" had already drunk all my water.
"Water, Water everywhere, yet not a drop to drink..."
You should never drink seawater, in case you didn't know.
Anyways, looking around forlornly for a drink or a vending machine (while Mama bear and her cubs are getting away across the pack ice), when what should I spot but this bottle poking out of a snowdrift.
There's crap like this everywhere up there, but I went to check it out just in case.
No water. But there was a note in the bottle, kind of all faded and brittle and all curled up.
It read something like this (if I can remember).
"We, the men of the Erebus and Terror on this day .... in the year of our lord 1847 have .... eaten the cabinboy .... being pursued by giant lizards .... entering into the hollow earth ..... look for signs near...."
There was more, lots more with maps and directions and excerpts from journals and strange drawings and things, but I thought the bottle was coolest and so took it and left the rest. It wasn't littering, because I had already found it there.
Anyways, if you like it you can have it for a mere $10.00. The bottle, that is, the rest of it is still up there. If you're curious I'll draw you a map, but that will cost you another $5.00.
7:00 AM and it's Grey Outside
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1865
7:00 AM this morning, 5 1/2 hours sleep and I'm strangely refreshed. The tightness in the chest is slowly vanishing, I remind myself with every cigarette that I have to quit. And I remind myself that I have to eat - when did I eat last? Almost 40 hours ago at the airport; there's much to do and it's one step after another...
There is the diminishing of possessions - I have done this, long long ago, strangely satisfying, as if a weight were being lifted from my shoulders. I've listed ads for an antique humpbacked trunk, the giant herb chest (good only for ornament and socks, 300 lbs of solid teak, if unsold this will be it's final move, it must sell as well...), Indian Ships lantern, now to await the interested enquiries ....
The stereo, listed and I received a response identifying the speakers as being cheap knock offs and so I unlisted, took to the Goodwill where upon browsing I found another pair of antique candlesticks, large, about 200 years old, $6.00 the pair and in immaculate condition and so I buy them, there is as well an old gramaphone, 1911, not working, and old habits die hard and so I buy this as well, alternately congratulating and cursing myself all the way home , reassuring myself that it was a "good deal" and yet remembering that I'm downsizing and that as I take it with me, it's only for a while....
8:04, Still rush hour, time to drink my coffee, smoke some more of the duty free (and I must quit, I remind myself), start packing the car and making trips with the infinite small boxes of rubbish, many, many more things to go, books, shelves.
I apologize for the quality of the blogging, it is sliding, has slid, but things have gotten busy and busier and it will be some several weeks before they're back to normal. Bear with me.
Declaration of Independance
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Found
- Hits: 1763
Now we all know the story of the Declaration of Independence that turned up at a garage sale, don't we? If we don't you can read it here: http://www.sothebys.com/liveauctions/sneak/archive/declaration.html. But read the first article - according to the Wiki, 200 copies were printed, only 24 are known to exist. Do the math.
(Note: The blog will probably be on a bit of a US theme for the next week or two as I slowly disgorge the contents of my vacation: Driving, Philadelphia, Rural New York, 100's of yard sales along the interstate and time only to stop at a few....)
Up at 4:30 AM
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1890
Up at 4:30 AM, unable to get back to sleep.
I've been short on sleep ever since this "vacation" began, but there is much to do and I lay in bed, trying to get back to sleep and there's a tightness in my chest that reminds me I must quit smoking, must exercise, and I make my lists and plot my plans and worry that this is what it feels like to have a heart attack (it probably isn't, I know, but if you haven't had one it could fool you...).
I must get a job, new job, any job, a job I love. A job that pays well, not the best in the world, but that leaves me time to think and work on other things. But that has to wait.
I must get theater tickets. Soon, today, commit to this, get it done, life awaits.
I must write, transcribe notebooks filled on vacation, notebooks under the desk that have lain there forever, ever since I was a child.
I must move to the new place, now empty, awaiting me, there's much to be done there and I am saved some slight labors by the fact that I have have worked so often that I've never unpacked from my last move. This new move, it will keep me busy but it's not the end of the world.
Breathe, deep, this tightness in the chest, it's caused by my not breathing, breathing, deeply, I forget to breathe, remind myself.
There are the lists of things to be done in the new place, the agreement, I have plans and there are lists to be drawn up.
Thrift shops, but I have no muse at the moment, am loathe to acquire new things when I still haven't rid myself of the old. I must take in some watches for repair, art projects forever on hold, stale writings awaiting transcription in notebooks...
And I think about departures and arrivals, the coming and going of relations, about the dentist who's first visit I survived but has me scheduled for many, many more, and there are countless distractions that need be sorted, I think of absent lovers cold in their graves and warm in their beds and eventually I just give up and make some coffee, start the day, 4 hours sleep with no hope of a nap but I have only to stop thinking of things and begin...
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