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Re: My worst misdemeanor » Jakeman

Posted by Larry Hoover on June 2, 2006, at 9:06:53

In reply to Re: My worst misdemeanor » curtm, posted by Jakeman on June 1, 2006, at 22:02:52

> That's funny. Every single guy apartment I've been in has milk crates. I have one now as a coffee table.

Mine doesn't. :-p

Mine are all in storage, with all the various fluids that guys collect. Special lubricant fluids. Special rust treatment fluids. Special special fluids. Guy fluids. And another has tool heads and stuff. The head of an axe. The head of more than one hammer. Just waiting for new handles. They are very patient, those guy things. I will get back to them. I will!

> Hey maybe this could be a block-proof thread... jail stories :-) In the Atlanta jail people had cigarettes but no way to light them. Some guy figured out that you could take out the light bulb, put in a thin piece of paper, and produce enough fire to light a cigarette. That's an important skill. Maybe I'll put it on my resume.

Well, you never know when you may need such a skill.

A few years back, I was sitting under a tree at a crowded beach. I have to be in the shade. So, I had to share it with all the other have-to-be-in-the-shade folks. There was this freaky dude. Freaky eyes, you know? He was sitting there, cross-legged, with a flat piece of wood in the cradle of his legs, and a thin straight stick in his hands. He was spinning the straight stick, spinning it in one place, by rolling his hands forward and back and forward and back. Like he was trying to drill a hole into the flat piece of wood. And he had these little bits of moss or dried grass, I forget. The dried stuff was tucked in around where the wood came together. He was trying to make fire, using a fire drill. Just like a caveman must have done.

Well, it really didn't take very long. 5 minutes? And he caught a spark on his tinder. And he picked it up, and blew on it, just so. And the spark became an ember. And the ember had children. And smoke started to pour out of the tinder. And poof! Fire! He pulled a cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. Dropped the burning tinder and the sticks on the ground, stamped out the fire, and walked away.

I bet this guy just went around doing this. Over and over again. Different random audiences. Different sticks. Different tinder. Maybe he carried around some tinder, in his knapsack? Just lighting his smokes this way. Unless it was raining, of course.

I bet his world was defined, in some way, as a source of sticks to rub together. As he looked at the world, he looked for sticks.

I used to skip stones with my kids. As I drove around, I watched for skipping stones. I know the drill.

I may not have gotten good vibes off the guy (well, I didn't get good vibes at all), but if I was ever stranded somewhere, in a group of people, I'd be happy to know he was there. Or, perhaps, happy to have the memory of his having been with me. You never know. I watched him do it. Just 'cause I never have done it, yet, doesn't limit me any more. I watched him do it.

Lar

 

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