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|spud (profile) wrote, |
on 3-30-2003 at 12:15am
|Current mood: amused
Music: dav brubeck - blue rondo ala turk
Subject: i haven't picked a mood from the list in a long time
well. when last we met, i was indecisive about my goings on an adventure.
but this evening, kiddies, things are not so!
i have suddenly become quite decisive. and pensive. and vengeful. and various other adverbs are things i will soon become.
but tonight, i don't want to talk about me, i want to tell you a story. a story about......
i mean about the real me. you guys hear about all these adventures i have, with the conquistadors. i'll go on long trips to faraway lands, partaking in bizarre hijinks that are bold, exciting, and dangerous. and did i mention fun? in fact, fun is my middle name. well, not really. but it is my chinese neighbors middle name.
but in all these adventures, i take you on journeys to see the pseudo-me. you don't really see what goes on behind the closed doors of spuds crazy beachfront frat house.
okay. i'm lying. but i do live on the beach front, although it's no frat house. it's more of a shanty. it's a scant shanty, that's a go for a potato. yuk yuk.
so, you want to know the real spud? the one with four kids in suburban manistee, that mows his manicured lawn in front of his cookie cutter house?
well, you can. but he's not me. no no. my lawn is sand. although i once tried to mow it, it's far from manicured. and although i live in manistee, my home is far from a cookie cutter suburban relic.
my bachelor pad suits me fine. i've got a bedroom, where the magic happens. i've got a bathroom where the magic happens. i once had to get the magic cleaned out of my living room carpet. that was a lonely weekend. but the place in my hut where the real magic happens is in the kitchen.
just an old propane stove and oven combo, microwave, fridge, and chest freezer full of banquet food products is the pride and joy of my residence.
since i live on the beach i don't really worry much about the outside of my house. it has vibrant colors to match my personality, and the character of the surrounding area, but nobody really complains. i have a little walk from my covered wraparound porch to the boardwalk along the beach. the boardwalk is pretty well beaten down, and in disrepair. it doesnt really serve much purpose, or get much use. and those that use it like the rugged feel of the rotting wood beneath their feet. i find that it always gives me a sense of vitality that i cant' get from much else.
behind my house lies a steeply pitched grassy sand bluff. as you reach the summit of the ridge, the trees quickly close in on you in a comfortable sort of way. there's a trail adjacent to my home that leads from the boardwalk up into the woods. from the fringe of the forest it networks out into various loops that interconnect and eventually lead to a parking lot right along the county road. scattered amidst the trees beside the hiking trails are a few picinic tables and benches of like design.
the view from the ridge is fantastic, and at any time of year, the breathtaking sunsets are enjoyed by myself and the few visitors that brave the trek from the main road and park.
it's soothing. quiet. gentle. i enjoy watching the clouds. and on cloudless days, i can spend hours staring at the sun. people warn me of retina damage, but i figure i have enough eyes to spare me a lifetime. however, the joys that i experience the most are the summer thunderstorms. i love watching the pitch dark clouds rolling in from the west. the quick flash of the lightning, followed by the power of thunder. and the cool, fresh breezes that bring the firm rains. it just makes me melt.
this morning, as many others, was quiet and uneventful. i was inspired by a dream about shish kebobs to make a fence out of sharpened sticks. i could whittle the ends, and then thrust them into the ground. i didn't have much else to do, and was considering it quite successful, until one went awry and i was stabbed in the eye by an errant branch. after the mornings work and the trauma of and medical attention to my injury, i realized i hadn't had breakfast.
quickly considering my options in my weakened conditions, i began to raid the cupboards. i was in a breakfast mood, and was considering inviting some company, if any cared to pass by. i had some whole milk left in the fridge, a half dozen eggs, some cheese, veggies, and my normal supply of frozen goods and non-perishables.
if i was going to do anything, it had to be quick and easy, like a german whore. or like that russet potato i once met in burbank, cali. at any rate, i needed something time and energy efficient, that was readily available. i could make omelets, but that seemed laborious, and i decided against it. going through the cupboards a second time, i noticed a couple boxes of jiffy muffin mix. quick, easy, and good.
twenty minutes, a glass of milk, and a dozen raspberry muffins later, i was a tubular tuber.
pondering the past events, as one often does after a satisfying meal, i came to the realizationt that brought about this adventure. maybe not as exciting as one would hope. only slightly less dangerous than normal (although sharpened sticks are tricky bastards), and much more domestic of nature, i still felt it was a tale worth telling.
hopefully you feel it was a tale worth listening to.
until next time, i'm spud, and i'm still damn sexy.