Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

Hi you guys. Welcome once again to the past. Remember, the other blog I do is about the present. This one is about the past. I think about the past a lot when I'm lying on my back. You know, sometimes I can't sleep at night so I think about things I've gone through. You know, well, some confessions. For example: One time, my friend was over my house. Mind you, I was a little kid. The guy cutting the lawn started sinking into the lawn. My friend and I ran out to help him pull the tractor out. We cleared away the sod and we noticed he was stuck in a door in the lawn. We cleared away more sod and noticed there was a big big door there. Remember, the house I'm in was built around 1800. So my friend and I were excited over the prospect of finding something from the Revolutionary War. Anyway, we opened the door and there was a pit of brick that went down about 14 feet. We lowered a ladder down, and my friend wanted to go down and be the first to check things out. He found another door and I lowered a crowbar to him. He forced the door open. I heard gas escaping and a large scream. The next thing I know is there's a geyser of shit and toilet paper coming up. My friend was racing up the ladder screaming. We had hit the main septic line. He was covered in shit. He dove onto the lawn. My father came running out. The whole pit started filling up with raw sewage. My father was not happy. We all stood around praying it wouldn't escape onto the whole yard. After staring at a bunch of turds for a while, my friend said, "Hey! what's that?" and he picked up a shovel and picked up a condom. My dad looked at me and just rolled his eyes and walked away. I think I told you that story before, but it sounds good again. You know, my life was full of little adventures like that.

When I was little, my parents rented a small shack in the south of France. This was before it became trendy. When I mean shack, I mean shack. This place had a hand pump for water in the kitchen, an outhouse for a bathroom. It was cool though. We had a big field. I would lie in the field and look at the clouds. There was a big cherry tree there. I would sit there and eat cherries. Sometimes the farmer down the street would come over and recruit us to do some work. It was a good life. Never a dull moment.

I have lots of stories to tell you, but I have to look back and make sure I don't repeat myself. I'm gonna leave it at that. I hope you guys have a good week. My friend here will include some photos I did on my journey. We went coast to coast. Not an easy thing to do when you're like this, you know, traumatic brain injury. See you next week. Love, B. Nice




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