Zeek and I escaped to a church camp last night. Men only. It was easy to understand them. Everyone was the same age, about 17. Some had been 17 for many years but there was no complicated maturity stuff to deal with when we were sitting around the fire talking about camping pranks.
Contrast this with a house filled to bursting with the angst and uncertainty of 6 13-year old girls celebrating Cheryn's birthday. Nobody at the camp worried about make-up or what they looked like first thing in the morning. There were no ulterior motives or salads. We played a violent game of capture the flag and ate braaied meat. The simple pleasures.
I like being with men until the snoring starts. I had pitched my tent between a hybernating grizzly bear, a rusty chainsaw and a jackhammer. My thoughts of violence become more irrational with each passing hour. They're alive only because it was raining and my sleeping bag was warm.
3 comments:
It's never too late to be wide-awake seventeen!
Your writing really is quite good. Have you ever thought of publishing? Even end-of-article fillers, for magazines like The Readers' Digest.
People get paid for work that's not as good as this blog entry.
Thanks Patrick. That compliment will keep me going for days.
As I child I thought being a reporter a good career.
I've written piles of marketing stuff but only ever been paid for it in the sales it generates.
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