Archive for June, 2011
What can you say about a lake anyway? A pond you can get the parameters, an ocean you have to let go and accept the vastness. Never quite got what made an ocean an ocean and a sea a sea. Bays I get, lagoons, yeah. Swim-holes. But the lake is like the province of water. They should only have them in Canada, and that might actually be the case. But a Lakeside, THAT you can talk about. THAT you can dip your canoe in and go fishing. We’re the tourists from the city who holed up in the house with a bunch of beers and are making a racket you can hear two miles over. Raccoons and foxes are drawn to our cabin, and Ian thinks he saw a bear. The real danger is the locals. They’re loading up on shotguns shells, peering in at us through the trees. Will this be a bucolic getaway, or a lynching? Listen to those crickets. How could anything bad happen down here by the lake? Wait a minute? Did you hear that? Was it a raccoon? Where’s Jeff? Oh no! I don’t lake it!
This was the program for Thursday’s show at The Lakeside Lounge.
So a guy walks into a bar with the Glaive in one hand and a penguin in
As the bartender dies he says, “Why? Why?” and the penguin says, “It is I who controls the Glaive.”
We drove out to the reservoir with a 12-pack of rapidly warming Busch, hoping we’d get there in time. If the girls were still there we’d give them beers and try to convince them to strip to their underwear and go swimming with us. Megan wore a bikini top most of the time anyway so she’d be up for it. But Megan was for Rick, as he’d made abundantly clear over the past three and a half years with nothing to show for it. I preferred Dana, so that was fine with me.
I hoped that she’d be over last summer’s thing with Brian. I could still see her lolling in the shallows, guarding a thick egg-mass while Brian swam back and forth, clouding the water with his milt. I cracked a beer and crossed my fingers.