I'm out with the death-doula, couple of glasses of wine on the East Shore, Crawford Bay. An empty pub, the bartender sets up the Karaoke and begins to sing for us...

We move outside.

We talk, a lot of similar beliefs, although we express them differently. Different life histories, different stories, and then the conversation turns. The New World Order, her experiences with UFO's, her experiences with ghosts, with her ex-husbands, international assassins, she doesn't drink - really, or do drugs, but clearly she doesn't need them, the staring blue eyes, lucid on the surface, presentable for sure, but she's completely fucking bat-shit crazy...

I'm talking with T****, kitchen guy at work. He's mid-50's, looks to be about 40. This is a common thing here I've noticed, it's the lifestyle, not a lot of premature aging, rather more extended longevity...

...and he's telling me about his band, he's been in loads, when he was young he'd get first pick of all the groupies, the girls, always the prettiest, the freshest, let the other band members take the sluts...

...but now his voice trails off and he sounds a bit sad, now, it's just take what you can get, and there's by inference the implication that his girlfriend, I've met her, the current one, is not a first or second draft, no, she's one of the leftovers, and there's not a trace of irony in his voice and somehow it makes me profoundly sad...

I'm talking with R#3, Sr, the owner (or one of) the restaurant, he's telling me he's known a few prospectors, none of them made it, would buy, work, then sell on their worthless claims to suckers...

"Every creeks been panned a thousand times..." he tells me.

Doubtless it's true. But Gold was never at the price it is now. And there are a thousand minerals as valuable - or more so - than gold. And the market for those minerals is recent. And I have a thousand other counter arguments, watch a few YouTube videos, but his POV, it's excellent, it's why I have every confidence that I'm going to get rich...

Aviator sunglasses, middle aged, balding, beard, he's just in for a beer, aloof, watching me. Anyone new here is an object of suspicion to the locals.

After a bit a couple of the local girls join him. I know them, have seen them at the Balfour Superette, party girls, if you know what I mean. They're acquainted, sit together, everyone in town is acquainted if you think about it, out here, population 350, ... they have a couple of drinks, I bring him another beer.

"You know a lot of unusual people?" he asks me, I laugh, "Look where I'm working...". He could take this two ways, he takes it the right way, "...and you decided to settle here...", he parries, introduces himself. 

Paying his bill, the girls, they're trying to persuade him to "go out", "come over", oh, I know this story, P4P, he's not interested, just wants to go home. I look at him...

"Cue Circus Music?" I ask...

"You know the actual title of that is: 'Entry of The Gladiator'" he tells me, then: "No, no, I gotta get home, get some sleep. Funny title for the song..."

"It's because you gotta be a fucking gladiator at 6:00 AM when you're up searching for blow-outs and crumbs....".

"I never looked at it that way before...." he replies...

We're completely on the same page, I've been to the same party a hundred, thousand times, at the old restaurant, the Bosses Nephew, J**, it's reassuring, this, so much unspoken yet we both completely know what's going on...