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Uncles Flim and (Flam)
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1632
After a night of unsettled dreams, the last and only one that I remembered...
I've just graduated. I don't know from what, or for what, but I put out a call for cash in lieu of gifts...
Who should show but good old uncles Flim and (Flam?). Both bespectacled, comfortable middle aged men, perfectly bland, you've seen a thousand like 'em. You'd never recognize them on the street. I didn't. But they're reaching through the windows of a classic luxury car, Rolls-Royce or some-such, and handing me big manila envelopes filled with cash, dense, like bricks, and I know there's millions in each, and they're like "take them, congratulations..." and I know I've made it...
...the uncles, they don't exist, and I first interpreted Uncle Flim as being a dream-anagram of Uncle Film...but Uncle Flam then joined him in the names, a natural they'd say...
Today, off prospecting, bought my ticket in Wyndel, site of the logging accident a couple of years ago that nearly killed me, but it had "Wyn" in the name, and I like "Dell", I have an aunt by the same name turning 100, so...
Beryl, Garnets, Mica & Smoky Quartz
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 908
The weekend (my weekend, an early day Monday, so the afternoon, Tuesday, Wednesday) - bills, errands, and numerous trips to the east shore.
I'm looking for the Garnets Brad spoke of, no luck as of yet, a dozen beaches combed, nada. But some good beach rocks, to be integrated into other projects.
Visit the Smoky Quartz place, dig for an hour, searching for pockets, I have a theory, yet to be proven, and I have yet to cough up the evidence. No pockets, but an unwelcome tick on the back of my neck, found before it latched but - always - how many did I miss?
Bloody hell.
Visit the Mica quarry, my fifth, sixth trip there, big (ish) books of mica, maybe an inch or two across, in the dirt, and I've dug holes, scraped the surface, can't find out why. I mean, I suspect a decomposed pegmatite, but then wouldn't the mica decompose first? Feldspar, after all, is a lot harder, and where's the smoky quartz?
Anyways, take my big boy pick and randomly trench, dig through the roots, gather my books of mica, and I finally find it, a beryl on feldspar, loose, it just falls off. About a centimeter in all directions, white, not at all gemmy, but 5 times here and I'm starting to find them - which means dig harder and deeper.
Staves, thick wood staffs to be collected for Wizarding purposes, Eagle feathers, a deer skull - I'll let it bleach out a little longer before I collect it, I've three months to gather my winter's work.
We'll see.
These days off, I want nothing more than a plate of tacos, food, put my feet up, read a book, people watch, but it's summer and make hay while the sun shines and before the ground freezes and there are too many holes to be dug, too many places to go, and I find myself paralyzed, unable to choose...
They're here!!!
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Blog
- Hits: 1510
Yesterday, driving to work. A beautiful day, and the traffic is unprecedented. Parades of bikers, BC, Alberta plates. hundreds of cars, plates from all over the USA, there's more people heading to Alaska than have ever lived in Alaska, from Wyoming, Idaho, Washington, Arizona...
The day starts off, busy and busier and, with all the beach seating, it's crazy. You can't keep up. Summer's here, and it's been so long, everyone is out and about - like a Saturday, busier even, like a Saturday on a long weekend, one lull in business, time for me to scarf a quick burger, I work in a restaurant and am starving to death Goddamnit!!!! Then back at it.
Tips, good, bad, ridiculously good. People are glad to see me. I wonder how rough your life is that you're glad to see me? Nonetheless, run, run, run, there's bills to be paid, and today, today I'm hurting. I'm getting too old for this.
3 Months to go.
Of Ken and Angelica Huston
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1662
At a party, of sorts, a few people I know, mostly ex's that I haven't seen forever.
Talking to them and everything seems to be forgiven.
There's a stair running down a wall, and there's a large, dark haired woman wearing a close fitting velvet mask over her face - covering it entirely, except for the eyes and mouth, even the lips are covered in velvet...
She's here for Ken, about their child, and she reminds me of Angelica Huston, or Elvira, those oversized beauties, and I'm laughing at Ken, I didn't know he had a daughter, how did this happen? And Ken's beneath her on the stairwell, talking earnestly to her, and then I hear on the radio about Shag Harbour, and how abuse of seniors is common with orderlies, and I'm laughing at Ken and Angelica/Elvira is nodding earnestly at me as if I've figured it out....
***
Now I'm talking to these ex's, and I get the feeling somehow that I'm to reconnect with one of them - there's one, she's beautiful, so-and-so but not so and so, she's not as I remembered her, not at all, and she's aged, like me, only not so much, matured, covered in freckles that have grown together, beautiful by no conventional measure but I find her so nonetheless, and we're talking about pleasant things and I invite her for coffee, it's been so long, just coffee...
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