Week 10: Weather or Not?
At the begining of the week a front moved in and clouds have covered the sky nearly all week long. It seemed as though everyone became a little depressed, a little less motivated. It always reminds me how the weather can really effect our emotions and moods. While I didn’t get outside much this week, I got a good bit of writing done as far as my other two blogs answering questions and ranting about grain-based diets.
Sometimes when I feel like I have nothing much else to do I’ll make something totally stupid like this:
I can’t help but think up stupid things like this, which would make a great bumper sticker for some redneck truck driver. I hate cars, I hate bumper stickers and I hate rednecks. Yet, I have the ability to think up stupid things like this that I laugh at thinking about some asshole who would love to have it on their car. I can’t help it, these ideas just flow out of me. I should have worked for an ad agency or something. Of course that kind of work would kill my soul and so I don’t do it. I’ve often wondered about starting my own t-shirt business or just trying to sell my random ideas like the one above, but I never really care enough to do it. So they sit in my head, or on my computer and don’t do anything or go anywhere… until a rainy day comes along and I just have to see the idea, at least in graphic form.
Willem and I watched the Naked Into The Wilderness DVD on bow-making the other day. The footage appeared old, like maybe from the early nineties, and the audio quality totally sucked. The information though, I found to really make sense and helped me to understand how bows work (didn’t get to the arrow part yet). So I tried my hand at making my first bow. I thought about taking pictures but didn’t, so I can’t show you all the fuck-ups I made, which seems too bad. I made some good fuck-ups. Eventually I chopped the bow into little bits and broke it several times. The remains now sit on the burn pile. At least I got my first bow out of the way. Anyway, I highly reccomend the video for the information.
I spent a lot of time brainstorming and writing up information on the Rewild Camp Portland. I made a couple new friends who want to form an archery club for the Rewild Camp. We will go and buy some bows and arrows in the next couple weeks and start practicing. I figure, why wait until I can make my own bow to start shooting? I may as well just buy a nice bow and get good at shooting while I work on making quality primitve bows and arrows.
It seems like raising chickens has become quite a trend. My mom bought chickens, my friend Jessica bought chickens, and now Erin, whose house I live at, has chickens here. I can’t seem to get away! Once they grow up enough to start laying eggs I’ll keep track of how much they do and what they eat etc.
Didn’t work on my laundry list for the 10 millionth time but whatever. I’ll get to that shit at some point, hopefully this week. I may throw the list away and start from scratch. Yeah, I’ll probably do that. Any suggestions I would appreciate.
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i like the “shoot first, ask questions about bow-making later” mentality. it makes sense to me.
chickens are pretty trendy here in my neck of the woods, too. wait, i’m in akransas. so i guess “trendy” isn’t the best word to describe it unless you mean “trend” in the sense of economic trends over the past 200 years among euro-centric settlers. plus tyson and george’s are just up the road from me in springdale, ark, where they’re having their annual “feather fest” sometime this month.
my family tried to raise a few chickens when i was a kid, but our dogs kept eating them. i remember that i was supposed to be mad at the dogs for eating our chickens, but i couldn’t blame them. it made sense to me.
anyway, i guess it’s a dog-eat-chicken world out there.
I’ve been wanting chickens for a long long time. I grew up on a true old school working farm (stump in the front yard for chopping heads off….fresh eggs everyday…memories of mom hanging the bodies from the pickup truck gate to pluck feathers), so I know how easy and rewarding it is to keep them, and also what great companions they can be.
I’ve also recently learned how hip it is some cities/suburbia to keep chickens. I live in Richmond, VA, and I was psyched to learn that I might have my own chickens right here in my urban back yard. Unfortunately, I’ve also learned that there’s a city ordinance against keeping them since my house isn’t more than 500 feet away from my neighbor’s. I’ve thought about just getting a couple anyway, talking to my neighbors about it, and seeing what happens. I haven’t had eggs in 12 years, so I’m really into the idea, but haven’t gone through with it. Is Portland more open to it? Are there restrictions? Are you just saying fuck it to the restrictions? Make sure to post more about this. Thanks!
Hey ssgovoni,
I found this link about portland chickens:
http://www.portlandonline.com/northportland/index.cfm?a=ficbf&c=dfbeg
No suggestions, just a question: Who is the laundry list for? How is it beneficial to you?
My mom has a great story about a blind chicken and its best friend. Apparently, they are more empathetic than you would think.
huh. chickens. That’s kinda like the way my well-to-do boyfriend’s mother kept bees in the garden on long island. She hired someone else to do all the work of getting the honey, she just kept them there to brag about to gher socialite friends. Also like the way knitting has become really trendy in the last 5 years or so. It’s popular to do in class at places like NYU. I was thinking this weekend wouldn’t it be funny if cordage making became the trendy thing to do during lecture. I’ve done it.
That’s awesome, Penny! I just pictured an entire college class working on primitive skills: flintknapping here, twining cordage there, weaving baskets down front, boiling water with hot rocks by the fire exit.
Yeah, I haven’t trusted rednecks ever since I watched Sling Blade.
Someone told me once the term originated with the intended function of identifying for those hellraisers who had toiled all day in the fields and had sunburns on the back of their necks… growing up in North Carolina I happen to know that’s just a load of pooey.
Trashy southerners is tuned into some fucked up frequency us fine normies can’t and don’t want to comprehend.
Not Faulkner or Wolfe or any of those southerners. The dumb ones. The ones who say “Hay, hol’ my beer an watch this…” and then tumble off a cliff howling on their souped up riding lawnmower.
On second thought, it occurs to me I’ve known some fine people and some really great truck drivers you really wouldn’t want to say that to. & on second second thought, people like that probably exist everywhere and could be labelled in any number of ways.
Maybe you weren’t serious. I’ll go speculate on that for a few hours. Then I’ll toy with bringing my southern accent back. It’s a really lame story as to why I discarded it. Maybe I lost something in the process. Maybe. MAYBE. & I need to add another layer to my dwindling charm. Like… Matthew MocConahey charm.
HEY… who’s blog is this anyway?