I was sitting under the sun, with the hum turning to roar of the bar, listening to testamonies about Saskatoon nachos when I started thinking. The left side, top and bottom, of everything I saw, hurt. Probably the undoubted inaudible noise of Sneaky Dees. It was impossible to love it all, but even less possible to not love it all. Friends I’ve had for only hours are the most familiar faces. I was off so far away, I thought, that my nachos tasted like rice, poutine and icebergs. But the nachos were knock out. I tried so hard to come up with something I had a problem with that I started to have a problem with nothing. Writing needs angst, serious conflict, at least mine does. All I realize is that I’m cynical for a twenty year old, like I’ve seen things before. When really life is good, I’ve seen very little, and new friends are refreshing and exhausting.

Good night. Halal.

Water. Moveable and light. Fills what needs to be filled, cleans what needs to be cleaned. The universal. Everywhere but still rare. Living, changing, running and supporting.

vs

Rock. Immovable and heavy. Dense and unyielding, it can only be worn down or chipped off. Everywhere, not rare, and not of real value. Dead, stagnant, and useless.

Winner: I’d rather be water.

In PEI. What a weird world this province is. We (I) got a flat tire on the trailer in Quebec City last night. Hours and hours past, tow trucks neglected to fulfill their duties, languages were not shared. Then a straight drive to the East coast. Then watched history made on live tv.
Go riders.

I get visions sometimes. Of metaphoric scenes, or nature explaining my life better than I can. I also have dreams, which are sometimes the same but in a different, less sensical medium. Listening to Bon Iver for the first time, midnight, post metal show, in the van, this is what I got.

A white stone slab, one foot by one foot by one foot, connected to a cave, in a cave, but seperated by light. Like canvas but less useful, ready for etching, painting, Crayolas, pencil. Something that stands out but still shows the white slab.

Could mean a few things, could mean nothing. In my old age, metaphors have become more true and often, especially when I stay up past ten. In this period I’m in, I’ll take the most obscure thing to point the direction, because usually the most unobscure things ain’t worth a dime.

Tour is rad. The USA is bad. There are so many awful American delights I have never experienced and I’m one of those guys that has to try new things(has little to no self control) or my head collapses/explodes. Breaded and deep fried Mac and Cheese, butter burgers, every kind of Arizona Iced Tea created, Salted nut rolls, PayDays, twisty Fritos. I’m a poor man becoming poorer, and this time it is not the fault of a conservative government. But I did get $30 tips last night. Waitresses have got it easy.

Waterslides are inevitable. Montreal is looming. Dreaming about a serious tennis faceoff between Obama and I and McCain and some young Asian girl. Everything was a joke to McCain.
New possible living destinations try to sell themselves to me. As I try to not get too excited about things, and write up essays of possibilities for the unknown.

But here, you be the judge.Yes or No