Tuesday, July 27, 2004
Spent a few days up in the “wilderness” a week back, and unlike those thin doormats you see at the discount store, those suckers are real pretty. The trees, I mean. Real pretty. The trees. Rugged, absorbent, partial to rhythm and blues, they make nice companions when you’re sipping your fifth tequila sunrise. If only I knew how to barbeque better. But the trees, they don’t mind a crisp fillet. Real crisp. The fillet, I mean. No sir, the trees remain steadfast in their steadfastedness. If only I could be as strong and weatherproof as my bark-covered brethren. But I get tired standing after awhile, and I need to sit a spell. Sometimes I fall asleep quick. I often dream of cedars and maples and plantation grown hardwood in the Adirondack tradition. When I wake up, usually its dark out, which means I have to hurry up and take down the flag. Those VFW guys down the way are real hard-asses about that stuff.
Posted by Pierre du Pop at 10:00 PM