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, Feb. 23, 2003 @ 2:42 pm
Who's been where in Spain??



I'm feeling reassured about Europe now. I sat down last night for over two hours with a couple friends that spent 9 weeks backpacking there three summers ago. We talked transportation, money, safety, itinerary... Now I just have to decide how long I want to go for, and I'm thinking that will be decided for itself in the next month.

After, I headed to the final party of the break (umm was I supposed to have been reading??!) where yet another keg was being tapped. This time, though, this time it was a LAN Party. Ten guys all playing some Death Star Battle Force game or whatever is hip this month in a hot, hot stinky living room. Electronic sounding grunts and weapon deployments punctuate the whirr and hum of the 10 CPUs.

When someone goes to the bathroom, their computer is hijacked with a quick 'control a' of a winmx search of 'gay porn'. Eventually their eyes glaze over and they join the XX's in the kitchen for drinking Scattergories. And the Trap. And...

The keg was outside on the deck. They were using a glass coffee urn to transport beer into the house.

At 2:30am I decided I wasn't drunk enough and so someone suggested our favourite phallic apparatus. It always makes me shake with adrenaline and that intensifies the slamming buzz.

Around 4am I found myself on the bottom of a drunken dogpile of people and sleeping bags, just breathing and listening and talking quietly. People fell asleep one-by-one and couples retreated to the bedrooms. He pulled me up off the floor onto the couch, pulled me close to him and twined his legs with mine. "This is pushing the limits of our friendship..." and he puts his hand on that favourite curve part where the skin of your waist rises up to your hip when you lie on your side. He holds onto me and rests his chin on my bare shoulder.

What has changed since that camping trip last summer? We slept two nights in a tiny tent off a logging road near Kelowna, and he made sure to arrange our gear between us at all times.

Oh, right, he had his heart broken by a whoreish bitch.

I escaped to sleep alone a while later. Anything more would make things wierd. I'm quite proud of my ability to maintain control while completely hammered. That very couch (and that same drunken cuddle) is where things began with Dave on New Years '99: a simple hug and a tangled spooning sleep.

The sun came around and beamed blissfully through the orchids across our groggy camp. "Good Morning," and someone comes in from the deck with the coffee urn brimming with beer.


Roots | Shoots