Over the years of making art, and they are becoming many, I’ve lost track of a shit ton of work. Some of it was purchased and now lives in someone’s dwelling, some found their way into offices, others on album covers and t-shirts. I started going through old CD’s, hoping to dig up old files like a record hunter looking for choice cuts in rural Goodwills. Gold amongst the ruins. I found some, and will continue to dig. Here’s the first offering.
Well, last week I decided to chase a tiger muskie I had spied in a froggy over-flow swamp off of a lake here in the Twin Cities. I made a rook-dawg move and waded into some seriously floating bog/Dagobah/quicksand type shit. I ain’t gonna lie, I found myself sinking, with no solid ground to be felt by stick, rod, or foot. I had to get horizontal, leverage my entire upper body just to make one last leg jerk to get out. In the process, I filled my waders. No worries, just pants, underwear, car keys and my wallet. “It’ll dry out. No big deal”, I thought to myself. What I didn’t know until moments later, as I felt my cell phone buzzing at a constant death rattle, is that sure enough the waterproof pouch on the front of my waders was just shy of being zipped shut. Cellphone dead. 2 days on rice; nada. I love buying new things…like phones.
Alright, dust off the bad mojo. Get back at it. Beginning of September, let’s look for some bronze and brown in wisco.
Drive 30 minutes, make a backcast and plant your streamer in a tree, thrust forward, snap your 5 weight at the joint between the 2nd and 3rd sections. Drink a beer to null the rage. Drive 30 minutes back home to write an entry into your blog.