Saturday, May 28, 2005

Out of the Wild.

Less moose party, more whiskey party. I caught a frog with my bare hands. I thought about eating it like a popcorn shrimp, because it was cold and I was hungry and had only instant mashed potatoes cooked in buggy water to look forward to, but I let it go instead. Also, I carried an enormous amount of weight in the form of a huge, tent-filled backpack and a 45 pound canoe through mucky hills. All there is to say about it is "240 rods." I survived by forming the pain into a tiny, viscous black ball and hiding it in my cerebellum. This somehow made me more of a man. I have a moustache, I caught a fish; fear me.


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