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Help, I'm Deaf

Went camping this weekend.

It dumped rain, so the entire thing ended up being the Hemingway camping experience where we all stood around the lake with our grim faces and ropey forearms wearing thick sweaters and acting like it didn't bother us that we were wet and cold and being eaten alive by mosquitoes because we were alive and it was more than we could say for the mosquitoes as we swatted them from our ropey forearms with our sinewy hands and looked out over the picnic tables piled high with soggy food and dripping dishes where we had just eaten dutifully but without relish because we had forgotten the relish and the mustard besides. The women kept their strong silent backs to the men while the men stood around the fire ring feeling hopeless because not only could they not get the fire to light but they had forgotten to bring any wood which didn't matter anyway because the wood would have mouldered away with the passage of the time that it took the women with their strong silent backs to finish the dishes and make the coffee which they poured into cups and let go cold before bringing it out to the men who stood in a circle reveling in their shame. And back in the tent we lay in the darkness listening to the rain and the acorns and the squirrel turds hitting the top of the tent and wondered how long it would be before the water began creeping into our sleeping bags and wondered whether the children really did not notice that they were wet and cold or whether they were just trying to put a brave face on it so as not to remind us of our failures and thereby to make us feel them much more acutely even though they were not really our failures so much as the failures of a God who never seems to take into account our vacation plans.

Man, I love camping.


( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
Aug. 4th, 2003 09:34 am (UTC)
(laughing helplessly) Next time you want to do Hemingway stuff, maybe you should skip the Nick Adams camping stories and all that Spanish bullfight garbage and go straight to Key West -- gallifreyan can introduce you to the best bartenders. And you will not need thick sweaters.
Aug. 4th, 2003 09:58 am (UTC)
I dunno. I think that the next thing is to go on safari. I'm all for staring into the sun through a cloud of red dust while the smell of heat and decay fill my nostrils and I think of the people I had left behind who aren't thinking about me because they've moved on, while I just ran away to a place where the animals sit at the edge of the veldt and stare knowingly at the fire that keeps them at bay....

Or maybe I should just go lie down.
Aug. 4th, 2003 10:20 am (UTC)
I have two words for you:

Patrick McManus
Aug. 4th, 2003 10:52 am (UTC)
I have seven words for you: I have no idea who this is.

I can see that he was born in a shack in prehistoric times and that he is a humor writer, but is he funnier than Roy Blount, Jr.?
Aug. 4th, 2003 10:57 am (UTC)
He's a hilarious outdoorsman writer. All sorts of stories about disasterous camping trips and the like. Your entry made me think of him.
Aug. 6th, 2003 07:55 am (UTC)
Gosh, I think I'm very flattered.
Aug. 4th, 2003 05:42 pm (UTC)
And it's hard to say if he's funnier than Roy Blount, Jr. Roy is pretty damn funny on Wait, Wait. Different kind of humor, I think.
Aug. 5th, 2003 10:48 am (UTC)
too many of these experiences as a child is precisely why i no longer camp as an adult.
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )