so, the bastard is back from camping.
it was a short trip, when i look at it in the long view.
it started out with my drive to long island city to get the mofo, where i became the paragon of road rage. not since the great altoids tin throwing of 1997, has the bastard ever lost his shit at such a high degree while behind the wheel. i actually leaned out the window on northern boulevard to yell "you suck at life" at some poor woman who apparently REALLY sucked at life.
the bastard however, will stick by this story.
by the time we got up to the woods, there fire was starting, and the thrilla boys were already taking care of the business of camping.
it was a good first day. and sometimes, that's all you need is one good day in the woods and then your shit is correct.
upon waking up at 6 am on saturday, it looked like the makings of an overcast day.
by 7 am, it was starting to drizzle.
by 8am, it was drizzling sideways with the makings of sideways precipitation. so the mofo and i started breaking down our racks in anticipation of an early bug out.
following this course of action, discussions about breakfast ensued.
this spirited discussion went on to become much more elaborate array of talking points that touched on the nature of wilderness survival, needs in the wilderness, and the ethics of taking credit for one's work in the wilderness community.
as well as walking the walk and perhaps the shelving of rhymes.
so while we finished up the breaking up camp, the wind picked up and the drizzle became rain which prompted the mofo to address the earlier point as to why we were breaking camp by asking if everyone would have preferred to break camp now that it was raining catd and dogs. agreeing with his point, the bastard got breakfast at the bottom of the mountain and all was good.
—the bastard
3 comments:
For people to fully understand the foolishness of Thrilla, they also must understand that the red chair was on the ground not because of the wind, but because of his ganja induced rage. As you had stated, and I think we all have at some point, Thrilla seems to be the only person who gets enraged and unrational when smoking the shit. At some point we'll have to experiment.
you mean like feed him copious amounts of chronic and then expose him to a variety of streeses?
I think what you are all missing is that Thrilla must always feel at peace in the outdoors and if you want to leave his world of the camp he will bust your balls. It does not matter what the weather. MOFO and I ran into the same situation in August. As we get older we get wiser and enjoy the comfort, as Thrilla ages he wants to do the dumb stuff of our outdoor youth.
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