Bible stories 3

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Day after day, blind and in pain, Samson carried this giant lamp around.
Why? He did not know.


Zartan had killed a wild animal. He was upset and mourned for his innocence for many years.


Inside, they saw Daniel sitting calmly with the lions, unharmed. He told Darius that God had married him and this lion. So to hell with you, and your looks of disapproval.


This one is done by the boo-chop.

Finally he fell in the kitchen, very tired, and air guitared to himself singing, "If I saw you in heaven" by Eric Clapton. His mom was not impressed.

CAMP

Camp is an addictive place to be. I went out to camp last Thursday, to visit the boo (the chop) and everyone else I know and love there. I just got home last night. See, when you don't have a job, everything becomes a possibility. What? Stay another day? Well, I don't see why not. So, if I was being a bum, spending all my time at camp while looking for a job in only the most theoretical of ways, then why not just work there? I will. I'm going to be a cook at camp for the rest of the summer. Hooray! I get to see my lady every day, and I get to be at my favorite place in the whole world.

See, at camp things are different. I've always been different from many of the people I have met, either too verbose, too loud, too open with my opinions, too intense for their tastes. But at camp people enjoy my company for all those reasons. I act exactly how I feel the most comfortable acting, and everyone there likes me for it. No fronts, no holding back. I get to be full force fuzz. It's fucking incredible to have people hold you in a high regard for exactly the same things you pride yourself on.

So. I'll be gone the rest of the summer, save a day a week. Here is a small list of what comes to mind as I think about camp.
-No expenses
-mosquitoes
-showering every other or every third day
-no sleeves on my shirt
-swimming naked
-poop
-crying
-golf carts
-a few of my camp associates: lots of cats, hong kong fooey, lego, schwackhammer, chum-dogg, Wee-wee, the wimpy englishman, mounty, braveheart, pipes, and so many more.
-singing before meals
-living in the only place in the world that puts my extensive knowledge of bracelet making to a good use.
-having someone to talk to when I poop
-smores

My name is Fuzz. It will be strictly Fuzz till the end of august. One person in five will know my real name, and that is exactly how it should be.

sketchbook

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Tales of adolescence

When I was thirteen I went with my good friend to the Indianapolis 500 time trials with his dad. It was a fun trip taken in a yellowy cream colored thunderbird, and we played rudimentary dungeons and dragons on the way there. Playing that was a big pastime for me at 13, but I don't think most of the games we played were the sort that make people life-long roleplayers. Two boys, only one of which is controlling characters, separated by a front seat cannot truly get the depth and weight that is associated with a quality roleplaying session. Though, in andy's defense, he killed ettins with a unmatched efficiency.

We had gone to the race the year earlier, and it was a shit ton of fun. For those of you who have never graced the brickyard, I would recommend it. I am by no means a fan of car racing, and an annual formula one race is exactly as much of that as I need in any given year. It is loud, and fun, and full of people. It is fun for the same reasons that baseball games are fun. You get to go to an interesting place with people who's company you enjoy, and talk, and pay attention to what's going on in front of you when the conversation dwindles. For reasons I cannot remember, or was never told in the first place, we could only make it to the time trials that year. The time trials were nowhere near as interesting to shitty tweens as the race itself, so we made ourselves scarce by way of the parking lot.

We were throwing a frisbee around near the edge of the parking lot, and it went over the fence into a backyard. After a short meeting of the minds we decided that a tunneling operation would be quicker and less risky than to climb the fence. So I dug some dirt out and held up the fence while andy crawled under it and into the yard. He went to get the frisbee, and while in the yard decided to poop there. So he did, sort of near the back door to this house. I remember it quite vividly, it was thin and squishy, freakishly similar to soft serve. We went back to the car to wash our hands with windshield wiper fluid, and then took a nap in the thunderbird. Ah, youth.

horse surgery

LIST

To help combat my loneliness, I have made a top three list of positive things resulting from living alone for the summer.

1) I have the bed to myself. This is the best thing ever. EVER. THE WHOLE BED, OH CHRIST CAN YOU IMAGINE IT!? I've been sleeping like a doofus to mark the bed as my territory. I sleep diagonally, I reverse polarities, I have four pillows to myself, and I use them all. I sleep with all the lights on, and with music playing. I ball up the blankets and hug them like pillows, and then lay the pillows on top of me like blankets. We are going to have to buy one of those ultra king size beds this year, the kind that are 18 feet by 23 feet, or some awe-inspiring proportions like that. The kind of bed that goes to all four walls in the room, so once you open the door you have to crawl all the way to your spot in the bed room. Seriously. I can't go back.

2) The bed,

3) it's all mine.

Summer

Summer has started. This may not come as news to many of you, but it just hit me. Amy left for camp, and my job ended all in the same week. This is a big change of pace for me, having spent the last year in a state of full on co-habitation. I've always been used to having time to myself, what with the temporary nature of subbing, but also farther back than that. I've spent a lot of time alone in my life. Not in a "feel sorry for me, lonesome woe is me sob sob" kind of way, or as a reflection on my oft rocky past with women, but in a literal sense. I have logged in a significant number of hours by myself. And I enjoyed many of these alone hours, I have a lot of solitary pursuits I am more than happy to take part in. (That makes it sound like I touch myself too much, but I was thinking about books, games, writing, etc.) Only in the last year or so has it come to feel normal to have someone in the house all the time, someone who is family. I spent 5 or 6 years living with various roommates, and I didn't ever feel like apartments with roommates were home.

This co-habitation business is different though. It really does feel like my house is my home again, and having half of my home leave for the summer really takes a lot out of my house.