SWORDFERN
Rooted, I used to think.

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Giving Notice - Friday, Sept. 29, 2017
Accepting Offers - Tuesday, Sept. 26, 2017
Indian/Polish Wedding - Thursday, Sept. 21, 2017
The Builder - Wednesday, Sept. 13, 2017
Rupert Part II - Sunday, Sept. 10, 2017


Sunday, Jan. 19, 2003 @ 2:55 am
Phantom Power



Tonight was the infamous Red Bucket.

But first, I had to spend a couple hours with someone... zero chemistry. This is the second guy that after spending an hour with reminds me too much of my cousin to even think about anything beyond friendship. He stole a kiss on my cheek at the end and I felt violated. So much for talking with random construction workers in the bar.

The beach was beautiful and foggy, though, and I didn't have to drive. I talked more than I ever have in my life with him. Not sure what is with me lately but I can't seem to shut up. We stood on a sand bar near a heron fishing and I talked and talked and talked. I realized at one point that I'd been talking about the intelligence of birds for 20 minutes. I went silent. "What's wrong?" "I ran out of words."

I wasn't one bit nervous; I only laughed in appropriate places.

So then it was time to Zoom over to the Red Bucket. When: this Saturday, January 18th at 8ish (or whenever you want). The later you come, the greater the chance that the RED BUCKET will have already been consumed.

The bucket was just as nasty as last year's Green Bucket. Still, it got me where I needed to be. Old, old friends and then a surprising group of department friends - somehow knew someone - and then it was just plain cool. Those parties all have the same soundtrack: The Hip. Ride the monorail... Yeah. Chilling later, lazing down on piles of pillows with Tom Petty, telling drunk stories puke stories accident stories. Cadaver stories - pass the skull around - med students freak me out. If you donate your body to science your head will be passed around at 2am when the Red Bucket is empty.

That's about it.

Farm story:

Wrestled a sheep to the ground today. Rode on its greasy back and pulled its feet out like I've seen cowboys on TNN do when calf wrestling. They don't ride them first but I don't have man arms. When she was on the ground I was able to pull her head out of the fence. She then peed on me. You're welcome for relieving you of entrapment.

I like the way the firetruck siren makes my heart race. It's like standing on the edge of somewhere high and curling my toes over the edge and leaning out.


Roots | Shoots