Sunday, july 17, 2011
Can you see my breath? because i can.
We iced in the early afternoon and i came back to an empty campsite; cooked dinner in the rain.
Half a can of spam and saurkraut. I used branches i'd kept dry in the food tent
and had to encourage a spider off of them before i lit crumpled pages from a usps stamp catalogue underneath.
I've saved such things because, last rainy morning, i almost used my copy of lord of the flies,
until i found a dry roll of toiletpaper and lit that.
I boiled a goodearth teabag in some two dollar applejuice and called it cider.
savored it in my dappled blue camping mug.
by the time it was all cooked through, the insides of my pockets were wet
and i could have called the sauerkraut soup, so i did and dipped at it with some hardened old hotdog buns.
i had these things in our tent as i read an outdated Forbes the Kenai Library had let go.
Is Entrepeneurial success inherited? sure.
Here is a picture of Dylan Lauren.
Our tent is filled with magazines- the library kind- Time and the likes.
Newyorkers and all. and books and by the by, there is something you should know about me,
if you don't already.
I love an abandonned building. they give me my cheer and i smile.
I could tell stories for half a night and my eyes would light up
and my voice would swallow itself like it does when i am too excited to breath.
my thrills are from abandonned buildings.
they are raw history and failed investments and sometimes there are trees inside bigger than i am,
but there is always a room, usually on the second floor, that's littered and stacked with books and molded clothes.
mattresses in the corner, wet sleepingbags, and a pile of tin-cans.
One in the czech republic had purses and the pictures they had held scattered on the concrete floor,
one in oakland still had five or six people in it: thankfully, asleep.
In the town where i grew up, the room had blood on two walls and a bent-up clock which i took home
and, when i left home, gave to a kid who was younger then I.
I had always wondered why so many magazines and books were brought to these rooms to mildue,
but know i know that anyone without a shelf at home will do the same.
books, and magazines especially will pften find themselves in dumpsters, bins, and subway gutters.
joel and i used to go in the night and bring home mail-sacks full.
I had a piece of quiche today. Quiche tastes good when you havent spent the night in a bed more than once since may 14th.
It will be another month yet. I made a bankload last thursday but will not see it till the season's end.
all the same i had quiche and the night before bought banana-ameretto cake and cardommom tea. a celebration.
now it's back to free coffee at the banks.
school will take a chunk of my check, and if i can i'll save the same, but if it's a banner year, as Ucida has said,
I hope to buy an italian espresso pot- stove top and silver- or blue if i can find it.
and if the season is better sill I'll get a frother- the kind one mistakes for a french press.
If you too have any hard-earned spending money, i recomend you do the same.
Send me a check and I'll order it for you.
Visit me and i'll make you a cup. It will change your life.
if it won't, I will.
Here is a picture of me changing your life:
* mix amounts of sugar and cream. milk will do- think and fresh.
If you need t, warm the milk to mix it. Make sure it's cooled before step four.
*Buy micro-roast esspresso beans, fresh as you can find, ground for a stove-top hourglass pot.
*Tamp in pot, using 25-30 pounds of pressure
*I reccomend a heat-tampered clear glass cup. a collins glass or handled glass mug.
*pour in cream, and spoonin foam; let settle.
*set glass down and add esspresso, thick or mild, oor even americano.
*serve with Tschaikovski and Speculos.
*send collin a thankyou card.
collin was here
wwc cpo 7043
po box 9000