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In an old prison
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1008
I'm in an old prison, high ceilings, stone, lights hanging down. It's a big cell.
The warden has thrown me a party, invited all my friends, he's sympathetic, knows I'm innocent, knows I shouldn't be here.
How long have I been here? I don't know...4, 5 days?
These friends, there's no one here that I know or recognize, and I'm asking the warden about an old friend - I know he's here, Milan from Edmonton, and the warden, he does some checking, shakes his head sadly, and I realize that he's probably in an Edmonton cell.
Meanwhile, I recognize Milan's daughter, young 20-something blonde, his wife, 40ish Czech, and his daughter's boyfriend, wearing a dog mask, under a table, eating food from a dog dish...
And I say to his wife "my...your daughter's boyfriend looks just like Milan..."...I've spotted the cheekbones, jaw, poking from under the mask...
She delights in this and maliciously tells the daughter, who begins kicking at me with her stilettos and shrieking that he looks nothing like her father...
The parties over, everyone has left, the warden is locking my cell, he tells me he will bring a menu for tomorrow night's dinner, and I'm surprised, I remember nothing of the past few days, and - I get a menu?
**Milan, to the best of my knowledge, doesn't have a wife. Or a daughter.
Dinner with Stormy
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Stormy
- Hits: 570
Meanwhile, back from another expedition and I'm out for dinner with Stormy. Well, maybe not out, but over at his place. True to form he "made" me a burger...
A burger, wrapped in 7 plastic bags and a used serviette. And - look closer ... is that a bite out of it?
I think it is. "No, no, ..." Stormy argues, "they just started to cut it in half, I can never eat a whole one..."
Anyways, I nibbled at the un-nibbled end so as not to appear ungrateful, the rest of the food was as appetizing, I just kept pretending to eat and throwing it back into the bag...
When I was younger I worried that in my grand adventures of life what would I do if I were with the Eskimos and I was expected to eat a Seals eyeball, or eat Monkey Brains and roasted bugs with Indiana Jones. Knowing Stormy has made me realize I'd probably be just fine.
For a sampling of the great artists company view the video. Although, I have to say, he wasn't in great form.
Transition
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 876
With fall coming to a close I'm getting anxious. The restaurant, working on cleaning it up, only 4, 5 hours a day, everyone is lazy, wants to knock off early...
Me as well. I finish my work after a week, the weather's getting cooler, rainy, and I know I'm out of time, have to get back up to the Crystal Mountain for one last haul...
One Last Haul. And, my final day of work, what should appear on the nearby mountaintops?
Snow. This is not good.
Finish work, grab some supplies, head North. A 3 hour drive, up the mountain, and I'm 6 KM up, slight traces of snow. But, the next climb it begins, at first a single centimeter, then an inch, then two, three, four, and then, the jeep isn't going any further, wheels spinning...
That's it, the season's done, goodbye to the mountain until next July. Now to try and get out of here...no turning around on this road, not here at least, and I gingerly begin to reverse...
Reverse is pretty easy, the jeep pretty much is sliding down the mountain, the brakes and steering are doing nothing (as my downward tiretracks illustrate...)
Yeah, and the edge, it doesn't look so bad in the pictures, trust me, it's bad. Hit a ditch, go over the edge, get in anyway stuck and the Jeep will be here until next summer. The 20 KM walk out doesn't scare me, but leaving the jeep up here for a year isn't an option. And see my braking and skids...
Finally, get turned around, now can slide/brake down forwards, until eventually I clear the snow...
And, finally, back to solid ground. Crazy thing was, it was still snowing, and if I could have made it I would have and been fucked on my escape.
So, a heavy libation poured out the window to the gods that showed mercy in the face of my untoward ambition. All things have their season. Until next year.
Rainy Morning
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Images
- Hits: 478
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