TOTALLY RANDOM POST II

[moose eater]

Had a former friend from the Yukon Territory traveling through Italy by train, and he was mugged via ether or other inhaled toxin via a rag. When he awakened his cash and passport, as well as a nice camera were gone.

--------------------------------------------
My MO has always been a matter of decluttering my mind that responds too heavily to OCD (in case no one ever noticed )

OCD was used to manage PTSD, and as long as everyone who lived with me was willing to subscribe to that level of order and organization, everything was mostly cool.

There's a reason why folks with PTSD can be difficult to live with, and even more so if they maintain life's organization via OCD as a weapon against the unnerving aspects of chaos,. which often seems more abundant in the world than not.

A life spent 'pushing the river' with accompanying loved ones paying the dues for being expected to adhere to my method of staying sane or at least organized and 'safe', as well as 'on track' and outcome oriented as much as possible.

Another aspect of this OCD and keeping things straight and on track, which appears as mere lethargy and procrastination to the uninformed or unaware, but serves the organizational needs of the OCD, is to tackle nearly every chore that's languished for months or longer, before I buckle down to getting the end-goal of packing or whatever the primary goal is, completed.

Thus it was that last night, after completing taking cuttings from the 4 semi-viable, angry and neglected mothers that I wished to perpetuate (least healthy mothers I think I've ever harvested clones from) I set about cleaning my mother cupboards and one of the main grow chambers (4'x4'x6.5'-7' on average). Finished that shit this morning.

Now I'm back on track for packing. Trying to figure out how to get the standard number of 'do not freeze' boxes into the back seat of the truck, now that I'm using a super-insulated Kong (brand) (50-quart 'do not freeze) Cooler in the same back seat where a standard 48-qt. Coleman or similar cooler would've gone; not the same sizes AT ALL.

This might all lead to a bigger truck.

When I croak, my wife's apt to have all sorts of newer toys that she has limited use for. A bonanza of 'what the fuck?'

 

[moose eater]

Still need to put about 8-10 miles on the new Skandic to break in the belt properly before hauling a 'train' of three heavy sleds with it into the bush.

And need to put at least that many miles on the 15-year-old Skidoo Expedition, to make sure it's not going to fuck me again.

Then there's the repairs recently completed to the notably rich-running Yamaha that has had some recent difficulties, followed by fairly major recent surgery, which the fellow was kind enough to charge WAY less for than actual value when I had to bring it back for a re-repair. (Nice to find people that back their work like that, by the way; he's mostly earned my trust, and definitely earned my business).

It's a bad thing to travel into the bush with machines that haven't been fully vetted for issues, and I rarely do such things. But this trip I'm doing it with at least 2 of the 3 machines that are likely going. May take all three, just in case.

Rolling the dice... Not good, considering my overall disposition.

 

[mean mr.mustard]

Fingers crossed brother!!

 

[armedoldhippy]

fishing has always been, for me, a moment like church, of asking the Cosmos if I'm deserving

fishing and religion have been linked since Jesus found his disciples casting their nets. probably before, as folks fishing to feed their families no doubt asked their god(s) for divine intervention before heading out. be careful, and enjoy yourself. if those two conflict....well, enjoy yourself. they say you can't be too careful, but look at how much of life one could miss by following that creed too rigidly. "everything in moderation, including moderation." we'll be here waiting...

 

[therevverend]

I doubt your family is trying to assassinate you Moose. They've had plenty of chances, they can relax and wait for time to do it's work. It could have been one of those odd phenomena, for instance the 'little green men' my grandma complains about. But most likely it was probably your own worst enemy, you. Your subconscious has been plotting behind your back for years, and in front as well. Maybe it decided to pour some insecticide or drain cleaner in your water when you were asleep. I know mine talks about me when it thinks I'm asleep...

He's a weird motherfucker, gave me a crazy dream last night. It started as anxiety over sleeping in the wrong bed, in my old room. I got out of bed, barefoot in a dirty t-shirt and boxers. I found myself high up in a large office building in the Big City. It was high tech, kind of futuristic. There were groups of people scurrying around, 6 or 7 of them. They seemed to be anxious to get out. Talking and arguing among themselves. I decided that was a good idea and followed them. The doors were locking behind us as we went through them so their was anxiety about being trapped inside.

Most of the people were young, I'd guess between 20-40. Wearing skirts, suits, office person clothes.. They were carrying stuff, cell phones and other high tech devices. There were glass walls with glass doors, a woman a bit older then the rest had a pass key that let her through. I stuck near her because I figured she knew the way out. There were stairs, elevators. Many of the people were scared, some appeared angry. There were large flat screens on the wall, playing corporate stuff. Cheap looking plants, computers, typical office crap.

Finally got to the first floor, near the front entrance. Big glass door. I heard a ruckus outside, saw a column of smoke in a gray cityscape. Lots of cement, manmade environment. Still barefoot in boxers and t-shirt. Nobody noticed. I wondered what was outside. Zombie attack? Aliens? Whatever was happening I somehow knew it would be a cliche, bad and cheezy. Walked out the door and saw a mob in the street and a line of corporate security cop types in riot gear, beating people. Wasn't much of a riot, the office people were weak and nerdy. There was a camera crew set up, run by internet people, recording '24/7, to show everyone what was happening'. It seemed the people in the building had run some sort of tech network, creating some sort of visual corporate propaganda the dream was vague about.

There was a guy on a com, arguing with someone. He'd been fired, they all worked in the building and had been fired. He was using lame corporate talk. 'We didn't discuss this with the group. Let's have a group meeting and discuss this.' His words started echoing through my mind. The voice on the other end said, 'No! Get the hell out of here!' I noticed the smoke was coming from a corporate security car that had been overturned and lit on fire. The corporation security didn't look so high tech and tough when I looked closer. The building was empty. The mob was mostly milling around, not accomplishing anything. Looking more and more pale and ineffective and nerdy. I wondered where I could get some clothes. It was all an anti-climax, after the fear and anxiety earlier in the building.

It was one of my 'totalitarian city apocalypse' dreams. They happen in a big gray city. There's always tension and anxiety, authoritarian themes. This one wasn't horror, often they are. In this one I was an 'astral traveler observer' but I've lived there too.

 

[moose eater]

I doubt your family is trying to assassinate you Moose. They've had plenty of chances, they can relax and wait for time to do it's work. It could have been one of those odd phenomena, for instance the 'little green men' my grandma complains about. But most likely it was probably your own worst enemy, you. Your subconscious has been plotting behind your back for years, and in front as well. Maybe it decided to pour some insecticide or drain cleaner in your water when you were asleep. I know mine talks about me when it thinks I'm asleep...

He's a weird motherfucker, gave me a crazy dream last night. It started as anxiety over sleeping in the wrong bed, in my old room. I got out of bed, barefoot in a dirty t-shirt and boxers. I found myself high up in a large office building in the Big City. It was high tech, kind of futuristic. There were groups of people scurrying around, 6 or 7 of them. They seemed to be anxious to get out. Talking and arguing among themselves. I decided that was a good idea and followed them. The doors were locking behind us as we went through them so their was anxiety about being trapped inside.

Most of the people were young, I'd guess between 20-40. Wearing skirts, suits, office person clothes.. They were carrying stuff, cell phones and other high tech devices. There were glass walls with glass doors, a woman a bit older then the rest had a pass key that let her through. I stuck near her because I figured she knew the way out. There were stairs, elevators. Many of the people were scared, some appeared angry. There were large flat screens on the wall, playing corporate stuff. Cheap looking plants, computers, typical office crap.

Finally got to the first floor, near the front entrance. Big glass door. I heard a ruckus outside, saw a column of smoke in a gray cityscape. Lots of cement, manmade environment. Still barefoot in boxers and t-shirt. Nobody noticed. I wondered what was outside. Zombie attack? Aliens? Whatever was happening I somehow knew it would be a cliche, bad and cheezy. Walked out the door and saw a mob in the street and a line of corporate security cop types in riot gear, beating people. Wasn't much of a riot, the office people were weak and nerdy. There was a camera crew set up, run by internet people, recording '24/7, to show everyone what was happening'. It seemed the people in the building had run some sort of tech network, creating some sort of visual corporate propaganda the dream was vague about.

There was a guy on a com, arguing with someone. He'd been fired, they all worked in the building and had been fired. He was using lame corporate talk. 'We didn't discuss this with the group. Let's have a group meeting and discuss this.' His words started echoing through my mind. The voice on the other end said, 'No! Get the hell out of here!' I noticed the smoke was coming from a corporate security car that had been overturned and lit on fire. The corporation security didn't look so high tech and tough when I looked closer. The building was empty. The mob was mostly milling around, not accomplishing anything. Looking more and more pale and ineffective and nerdy. I wondered where I could get some clothes. It was all an anti-climax, after the fear and anxiety earlier in the building.

It was one of my 'totalitarian city apocalypse' dreams. They happen in a big gray city. There's always tension and anxiety, authoritarian themes. This one wasn't horror, often they are. In this one I was an 'astral traveler observer' but I've lived there too.

Sounds to me like maybe you have some serious changes in life being contemplated, and feeling out of sorts? Just an educated guess, though I've taken dream interpretation with a grain of salt for years, putting minimal faith into deciphering the subconscious, let alone dream state, and it wouldn't be the first time I had my head way up my ass.

No idea how the toxins ended up in my water. Just that the effects were a bit much, and my right-side kidney and liver still seem somewhat perturbed about the whole affair.

No one to be angry at until you know who to be angry at. Otherwise just burning rubber with the brakes locked up.

 

[moose eater]

fishing and religion have been linked since Jesus found his disciples casting their nets. probably before, as folks fishing to feed their families no doubt asked their god(s) for divine intervention before heading out. be careful, and enjoy yourself. if those two conflict....well, enjoy yourself. they say you can't be too careful, but look at how much of life one could miss by following that creed too rigidly. "everything in moderation, including moderation." we'll be here waiting...

My older son didn't show up until evening, for loading and packing that should have started no later than noon.

I was irritated, as I could see what was about to unfold, and it was too late in the day to eat a half of a Provigil without fucking up my entire night's sleep, and sleep is broken enough, and comes hard enough as it is already.
I mildly ranted a bit about the schedule being insane, and at some point he was assertive enough to tell me that he was "uncomfortable as fuck" listening to me, to which I replied I was venting my justifiable frustration with what I could see coming for the night.

Nonetheless, we took all three machines for a spin into the hills near here, and I was damned glad we did.

We didn't take the Yamaha out until getting into dark, and only with one headlamp (mine) to do any trail-side analysis. At some point, climbing some steep terrain, I pulled over and had him pull up alongside of me to ask about any specific symptoms, and I could smell raw gas again.

Fearful that there was something wrong with the new main crank seal and wondering what about the end of that relatively new crank shaft might ruin seals? Burs maybe? Who knows what?

Looked with the headlamp on high to try to see any leaking gas with the engine shut off and didn't spot any immediately visible culprits. Then we started the engine back up again, and it was pissing fuel like a small river in a steady stream, coming from the new fuel line in the port-side carburetor, where it appeared perhaps over-sized fuel line had been used, and tightened down with a specialty zip tie.

Glad we took it on that run, as we might've ended up in the bush with a potential fire-bomb for transportation.

As fate would have it, I had a brand new 7,000-lb.-rated, looped end, hookless tow strap, and discovered that the new 125 hp Skandic pulls like a champ.

Had to rely on my son using his brake on the Yamaha in tow to slow me down as we descended some VERY steep grades. A little pucker factor at my age helps to cleanse the arteries, anyway.

It's (the Yamaha) is parked out behind the barn now, far away from anything valuable or flammable. And I'm really glad I insisted on the test runs into the hills. Though we're now leaving another day late, and shy one machine.

Oh well. More time for cheesecake. And hashish, too!!

 

[mean mr.mustard]

I'm glad you checked out the machines when you did!

The trip is probably not comfortable with the crotch in flames...

Now I have derailed my train of thought and am thinking about Gillian Anderson for some reason...

 

[therevverend]

Sounds to me like maybe you have some serious changes in life being contemplated, and feeling out of sorts?

You are correct Dr. Freud, you still got it. Although you forgot to mention I need a piece of ass. Because dreams always=sex. I do the same thing you do, always add, 'but it's probably bullshit...' to my dream analysis.

 

[armedoldhippy]

I know mine talks about me when it thinks I'm asleep...

my wife talks to me while i'm asleep. she whispers in my ear, saying sweet nothings like "die, motherfucker! die!" good thing i'm hard of hearing... i'm very susceptible to subliminal messages.

it wouldn't be the first time I had my head way up my ass.

lol, that's a universal human condition. now you can be positive you're not one of the Lizard People...

 

[D. B. Doober]

Press play, on pre-recorded audido

 

[moose eater]

Trip kicked my ass hard.

Arms, legs, back and neck all in pain, though it's seemingly in great part a neurological-based or sourced pain, as it travels all around, but for the places it's steady.

Fishing was marginal at best, but the eagle that kept me company on my solo trip last year was still there and put on some displays in front of our cabin. I caught an impressively fat, orange-fleshed 25-1/2" male trout that appeared to be a female. Beautiful fish. More gold in the leading edges of the fins than is typical for that lake, and he'd clearly been feeding really well. He'll eat just fine this evening.

Pics of the trip to follow, as my oldest son has them on his phone camera.

Limited stories of overflow, though nothing too catastrophic. We're still here.

Got to the motel room in Tok Jct. on the way home and took a muscle relaxer, a couple tequila and pomegranate juice beverages, and a few tokes of black hash, then submerged my upper torso and abdomen in some very hot bathtub water. Stayed there until the muscle relaxer kicked in and I figured I ought to get out of the tub while I still could.

2 nights ago I did about 7.5 mg of oxycodone and another 10mg of Flexeril (more of those items than I've eaten in the last year, plus). Slept for about 5 hours without waking.

This morning my back isn't in quite as much pain.

Spoke with the nurse at the oncologist's office via telephone about symptoms of when the cancer I have enters the spine; a no turning back point. C'est la vis.

She mentioned scans, and I explained the difference in tangible resale value of the last $8,000 in scans, versus the $18,000 in snowmobile I bought instead of non-conclusive and disappointing medical scans. Told her I'd tried to re-sell the scan results, but no one seemed interested.

Overall, a good trip with my oldest son. learned and/or observed some things about him as a person. His now more apparent 'disabilities,' along with his incessant use of BHO, and his sleep patterns, motivation, and some degree of developmental arrest re. the self in interaction with the world. He's fairly high functioning, but definitely on his own plain so to speak, and it occurred to me that maybe all along he's been a high-functioning guy with some form of autism?

He seems convinced we'll resolve our differences before I croak. I'm not always sure of that, but it would be a good thing.

I'm teetering on writing his younger brother off. The natural phase of narcissism that accompanies adolescence, young adulthood, etc,., is something that, at some point, and dependent on type of expression, especially in personally vulnerable relationships, I loathe due to the suffering, sometimes to the point of hate. Difficult for some to understand from the vantage point of being outside looking in, but it makes perfect sense to me.

A huge part of me acknowledges we can never go back, never re-do whatever differences in parenting style of competence/expectations/incompetence we demonstrated, etc.. That part of me questions if I still need children in my life if there's ongoing disappointment and conflict. That part of me sometimes feels comfortable seeing my younger son in my mind's eye and saying, "So long motherfucker. You blew your chance to be a decent human being in my eyes. Good luck to you. Or whatever kind of luck you make for yourself. You'll need it."

All of them have great difficulty in communication learned from their mother, ironically an English major, among other majors.

I'd guess my vociferousness made up for the vacuum of otherwise dead or superficial communication that failed to ensue in the absence of my own messages.

Older son is coming over tonight for a lake trout dinner, with left-over jambalaya from the trip. Not sure how I'll fix the trout; likely either pan fried in butter/oil and crumbed and seasoned, or baked and seasoned. not up to grilling at the moment. we'll see.

Lots to unpack and put away from the trip yet. Need energy and a bit of time free of pain to make that happen, as well as getting the Yamaha with the fuel leak loaded onto a trailer and across the Borough to the fellow who missed that tidbit. Do-overs with machines are a lot easier than do-overs with life and people. no shit.

Dug out several small bags of cannabis, including a bag of Haze #13, all of which had been given to me almost 2 years ago by a fellow who'd gotten some (free) balsam poplar/tall river aspen here at our property back then, who'd also rewarded our generosity with some free duck and chicken eggs back then.

The duck and chicken eggs are, of course, long gone. but the cannabis samples he'd gifted have aged well, resulting from my being inundated with my own stuff.

So I'm headed back to bed with a green tea, a dark beer, and a joint of Haze #13. Reports to follow. Likely more brief in nature.

It's a bit humbling to acknowledge that the things one could once do, are no longer doable without incurring a fair bit of pain. But failure to acknowledge such things is far more fool hardy than doing them and arguing against the obvious. (*edit: I don't think that entirely made sense).

Anymore, fun of the sort I once lived for, hurts.... a lot.

I need a bigger bathtub, and a re-up on that Flexeril.

.

 

[experienced]

Still need to put about 8-10 miles on the new Skandic to break in the belt properly before hauling a 'train' of three heavy sleds with it into the bush.

And need to put at least that many miles on the 15-year-old Skidoo Expedition, to make sure it's not going to fuck me again.

Then there's the repairs recently completed to the notably rich-running Yamaha that has had some recent difficulties, followed by fairly major recent surgery, which the fellow was kind enough to charge WAY less for than actual value when I had to bring it back for a re-repair. (Nice to find people that back their work like that, by the way; he's mostly earned my trust, and definitely earned my business).

It's a bad thing to travel into the bush with machines that haven't been fully vetted for issues, and I rarely do such things. But this trip I'm doing it with at least 2 of the 3 machines that are likely going. May take all three, just in case.

Rolling the dice... Not good, considering my overall disposition.

Are you planning to return? Or will this be a great leap of faith there is a better future out there somewhere?

Can you live off the land like an Inuit all the time getting laid in neighbouring igloos by accomodating wives?

Will we never hear from you again?

 

[experienced]

.... oh ....

 

[tobedetermined]

It's a bit humbling to acknowledge that the things one could once do, are no longer doable without incurring a fair bit of pain. But failure to acknowledge such things is far more fool hardy than doing them and refusing to acknowledge the obvious.

There is a lot of this sentiment floating around my household so I can really commiserate. Enjoy the trout.

 

[armedoldhippy]

glad you made it back alive, Moose! been wondering just how long you'd be "out there". eagerly awaiting pictures, stories, exaggerations and even outright lies. (see any sasquatches?) i'm a fisherman too, you know...

 

[trufeel]

Kiedy słońce było Bogiem?

 

[Three Berries]

Got a beaver in the pond tearing up trees. This is one nights work. A

neighbor will trap and release it elsewhere.

 

[tobedetermined]

Coming home one evening a few years back . . .

 

[tobedetermined]

A frequent flier tip . . . always grab a left side window if you fly in/out of LaGuardia.

In . . .

Out .. .

Yeah, I am finding some pics from my travel days.