All Saints' Eve

Saturday, October 31st 2020, 12:30:18 pm

Myths were invented to describe amazing people,
and I've seen many amazing creatures in my journeys.
One time out in Nordhouse,
out of nowhere popped out a freshly graduated engineer.
He held up a gallon water container that was carrying back to camp,
and the poor mad lad uttered, "8.34 pounds".
He seemed excited, but also sad,
and I think he was acting so odd because he realized he was forgetting everything.
Plus, I am certain he said pounds,
not kilograms; mad in deed.
Another time, at 6am or so, I was going through maps of south Pacific,
in Ann Arbor, by that strange black metal cube sculpture that squeaks when rotated.
I just had to get away from Ambrosia's morning clientele,
bless their hearts.
And I've noticed that across the park some student was sleeping under an evergreen,
I don't think she worked in US, I just somehow assumed South America, Amazon.
She stared getting off the ground, and tried to yell that she wasn't homeless or drunk,
I kept looking into my maps, ignoring her; and she went on her way to get a grant, or give a speech or something.
I am sure she worked in South America,
probably with the natives.
Over in Ludington, there was this one time a little girl was feeding Seagulls with her mom,
and just as I noticed the commotion...
one of the Seagulls,
went, all, out!
Right in her hair,
I felt so bad, and her mother was only barely able to contain her laughter.
She puffed up her face as if playing a trumpet,
you could totally tell she had enough of that kid, and she was getting payback for all her hissy fits.
And then there is this... story that is most Dearest to me,
one of my happiest memories, that I swore I would never talk about because I am far too mature.
Alas, this is what All Hallows' Eve is all about,
talking about strange creatures, and wonderful memories.
It was an beautiful early morning,
I was sitting by my breakfast fire.
Mostly listening to birds, and probably angry bears,
whilst squiggling in my journal, about poems, and programs.
This was a large and beautiful camp site full of tress,
they had clean showers, and proper restrooms.
and I noticed that a couple of giggly middle aged ladies were just getting into the spirit of camping.
They were always happy, and sophisticated,
and laughing, playing some smart radio station, and always full of joy.
This morning the tall one started shimmy shammying first,
she was probably getting around to starting up a fire to make breakfast.
They had all the firewood,
and swe was singing something, it was unusual for people to make so many happy little noises during a stay there.
She quieted down a bit,
and lit her fire.
And as she bent over to pick up some twigs to get things going,
she fired off that old familiar sound that one would expect from a constipated and uncultured, filthy, lactose intolerant old man.
And, oh my gosh,
all of a sudden all the birds went quiet.
It was just this unusual deafening silence,
and that's just half the story, because all of a sudden this sophisticated wealthy woman goes:

"Puull my finga"

In the worst fake southern accent she could possibly conjure up,
and with the longest drawl.
And then she quickly skedaddled back to her camper,
- probably to change, and lay down a bit.
This must have been ten years ago or more,
and I still haven't forgotten about it.
Happy Halloween,

#245: All Saints' Eve

Saturday, October 31st 2020, 12:30:18 pm