It's official: Christina has camped. She slept on hard, cold soil amongst worms and things with more legs than her; she ate granola (actually I can't verify this, but camping in Oregon must at some point involve granola -- or at least the mention of it); she saw lights in the sky that were not construction cranes; she swung a hatchet toward woody plants with the rage of Mr. Bunyan himself; she consumed generous volumes of Mirror Pond ale. Yes, the woman was camping by most standards. And she was warm, poofy, and purple at the same time -- if you don't believe me, just look at the pics.
Saddle Mountain camping last weekend, a.k.a. luxury camping, was spectacular. We had the entire forest to ourselves. We had volumes beer. We had volumes of caffeine. We even had volumes of beer that had caffeine in it. While these facts were unfortunate for most nearby ungulate creatures, the inner non-hoofed mammal in us was emancipated. As an added bonus, the weather cooperated nicely. What looked to be a soggy night turned toward our favor, giving way to starlight. Levity was in the air, as the fire flickered, stories were told, and songs were written.
We were blessed to be amongst the genesis of a new camping classic, "The F**cking Buffalo," that will soon supplant Kum By Ya at Weebalos outings across the globe. And speaking of Weebalos, a new animal species was characterized (soon to be published in the "Journal of Experiments") that may be proof of the genetic chasm between the common buffalo, "boofus maximus," and the Oregon Beaver, "beavage oregonius". This new species, the "Beavalo" -- or "boofus beavage" -- is, as you can imagine, a medley of hair (no, that's NOT fur), claws (no, those AREN'T hooves), horns, and large gnawing-like teeth. The animal is rather benign to primates, save for it's raptor-like caterwaul, pounding tail, and stampedes (which are thankfully brief due to numerous trees in Oregon forests). Stay tuned to TheAstroSite for updates on this fascinating creature!
To those that missed this magical moment amongst the rough, fear not. Christina has been seasoned, so to speak, and there are more nights not too dissimilar to this one in our future. Next time, however, we may attempt to ditch the cars and earn our camping site with a hike. Thanks for playing!
His prolific, albeit quite heterogeneous writing is actually recorded, released, and transmitted along my auditory nerve. There are no strings attached. This truly is a modern anomaly. Great poets and artists have always been keen to express themselves in a sort of emotional supernova, choosing explosion rather than implosion. And in homage of that seemingly lost art, I credit Ryan Adams for following this artistic tradition despite it's dim financial prospects. But he has never been one to play the game of the music industry anyway. For instance, he honored his record company's request to record and release "Rock N' Roll" only if they would release what I consider his best album, "Love Is Hell". The man is no sell out. So whether this album is a jem or junk, a part of me doesn't care (although from what I've heard so far, I'm certainly leaning toward jem). Ryan Adams is a musician for music's sake. I look forward to "Jacksonville City Nights" and it's accompanying DVD documentary.
