Wednesday, December 28, 2016

Jaws Redone

I will write a short story. I like the fact of dark hallways. Maybe based on Ghost adventures. Maybe based on christianity. Maybe based on swimming into murky water at night. Having to swim to the boat. A la Elizabeth's wedding talking to RJ.

Friday, January 31, 2014

Snow Storm Nemo February 2013

Google I, Randy will tell you my harrowing experience of how I avoided death during Snow Storm Nemo.
Friday through Tuesday
Tuesday night I decided to explore the backroads of Pembroke/ Duxbury. I noticed after the first mile of driving on the roads that these roads were not plowed. Why didn't I take the main roads? Well, I wanted to push the limits and head towards the deep woods of Duxbury. After tailing a car for a few miles we reach a two lane road reduced to one lane. 7pm and dark woods on either side as we drive fast through the woods a giant tree blocks most of the road we drive around. I have my psychedelic music blaring. There are Utility trucks blocking the road ahead, the snow covers half the road. Why did I not take the paved way home?
         I open the window, notice the car in front start a three point turn. I can't see too well but I attempt a 50 foot reverse drive. I hope I don't hit the downed tree, I try and check my mirrors but visibility is low. I pull into a strangers driveway, look behind and back across the road up onto a snowbank. I turn the wheel all the way to the right and speed out with a slight skid. I manuever around the down tree. A giant downhill lurks infront but I must stop on the snowy icy road to bang a right.
          I skid to a stop and turn down the dark road. I am warm so I roll down the window. Just in time to see a giant tree in the road. The roads are very snowy and I have to weave around fallen trees. Trees that have branches on the road. This two lane road doesn't fit two cars anymore. I am going 40 mph and a car is coming from the other direction. I drive my passenger tires into a snow bank and whip back left after the car passes. I survived. But I see a moron driver ahead waiting in the 4 way intersection refusing to go across. I have my blinker to turn infront of them. I am still rolling they haven't proceeded through the intersection yet. This is a potential accident!
        I finally come to a complete stop and they are waving me through. They have the right of way. I always put faith in the road laws. This has prevented me from car to car accidents in my 6 years driving. I decide I must be more forceful than them and insist they go as the law dictates. They hesitate. I wave them on and hold down the horn continuously for 10 seconds, 20 seconds 30 seconds. Finally, they proceed.
      Just a few more roads home, I had certainly gotten my excitement in this short driving adventure. The groceries need to get home. I turn down a dark road, the more dangerous the better. As I drive faster than reasonable I notice an entire fork in that road is blocked by trees and rubble. Fortunately that involves going the other way.  I avoid branches that protude over the road. I go down the windy Parsonage road. I take the icy turns. The final turn has me rise up and be weightless. I arrive home to text that Sid and Nancy have finally wished an appropriate but sincere thankfulness to Linda and Jerry for all their help in helping me survive the storm. Linda responds it was her pleasure and she was glad I am now comfortable.

Friday, December 27, 2013

Bike Ride Beyond Comprehension


“You cannot understand me; I am beyond your understanding, beyond what I appear on the outside.”  A.H.
This is Puxatony Phil's story:
I will tell the account of what happened as told through my point of view. To anyone who I allow to read this (very few people are allowed) I presume you are elite enough to look at this without judgment and treat me like any normal guy. You can observe what I was thinking, maybe not understand it, but at least be able to form your opinion of the event. I am open to a logical discussion about the events if it is done in a non-worried and respectful way. I am always open to advice and can do anything if I really try. 

Saturday November 6, 2010, a couple of days after I alerted people I would ride down the hill next to the library, and after scouting out, seeing many trees and obstacles. I studied Quantitative methods finished the problem. Feeling I had earned a break and needing to prove to myself my wild side I decided to rent the bike at Plourde around 4 PM. I listened to the song “Fadeaway” by Porcupine Tree, the song that I think about when I imagine I will no longer be on this earth. I think about all days gone by and hopefully remembered. But I know I must be here to enjoy any one remembering the events of my life fondly so I don’t want to die. As I listen I know this could be my last day on the earth, I know I will have no control once on the bike. My dad had a Kawasaki Ninja and he pushed himself 90 plus mph on the street and sold the bike fearing he would go too far. Thinking about how Evel Knievel describes the suicidal feeling of looking over the ramp viewing the cars or trucks to jump and turning around and going back up the ramp to jump. He said it is the most suicidal feeling in the world. I rent the bike at exactly 4:30 Pm. I have my back pack and tie my shoes, and pick the fastest bike.
The bike rides smoothly. I check the brakes and rocket up the hill towards Worcester hall, turn down the hill full speed through the basketball courts as two spectators watch me fly through the pathway between the baseball field and Plourde building. I then ride flying by the pathways in front of Hagan and make a sharp turn at full speed up the hill by Kennedy and behind the building up the pathway towards the backside of Hagan. I rest to let the lactic acid subside and see if the path I want to take is open, only one person stares at me. I drive full speed and ride across the hill towards the library and over the bump in the hill and lose my hat. I turn around laughing and grab the hat, and head full speed for the chapel parking lot, make a sharp turn back towards the LLC. It was here the nervous apprehension takes over again. I go by everyone, and of course no one can see me unless I acknowledge them, I make a motion to two guys that “I would go down this hill if there wasn’t a damn car parked at the bottom” But I turn the bike facing towards the lamp post and went down at an angle yelling “Woo Hoo” the pure exhilaration and speed lead me towards the exit of campus. I suspected I may have made a disturbance and cops were after me, but this was only a fantasy. Going full speed to the right of Testa, I jam the brakes to avoid walkers and head down Salisbury Street.
            It was magnificent going down the country styled road that goes towards Wachusett Mountain.  I was reminded of the video game “Road Rash” and I imagine that the gear shifter is the same as the one you would find on a dirt bike. The hills slow me to a crawl and the lactic acid burned incredibly. The hills give me speed and the afternoon is gorgeous with woods on both sides. Getting up a huge hill I encouraged a jogger yelling and laughing “keep it up, there is plenty of downhill ahead.” The speed I was traveling was probably about 30 mph and I just kept my head down and focused so as not to lose my hat again. I had to stay on the narrow space in between road and yards. I observed the sign saying “Welcome to Holden”. Across the bridge and to a Ford Dealership we go. I hung a right, thinking of the time I rode with Joe Zucca and others in a loop that went down Salisbury Street.  This was in a trip at night that lasted for an hour and ended at West Boylston square. Somewhat confident this right was part of that loop I headed down it and saw businesses on both sides and stopped at a Honey Farms debating whether to get a much needed drink.  It was then the adventurous personality advocated exploring the industrial park to see if there were any good jumps.  This personality told me this was in my hometown of Marshfield. The safe personality was telling me “No this is Worcester, turn around there is guard dogs, and the world is not nice.” The wild personality was saying that I am welcome here and to drive on the properties and find a line to drive on.  This personality berated the safe personality for not being wild anymore, and being afraid to trespass on private property. Eventually the safe personality stated dominantly that it knew more about the world and to turn around, also stating protection is only available to those who obey the law. I saw some dump trucks and thought of the joy of owning a business.  I also thought that everything rusts, breaks down and is destroyed so one must have God with them to live with any sense of joy. I go past the train tracks to the Honey Farms outside the entrance of the Industrial park. 
Without hesitation I park my bike and go in, and instantly the positive aromas of the food and drink in the store, and Pearl Jam’s rendition of “The Last Kiss” made me feel the enthusiasm of childhood. I counted my money and grabbed Elios pizza and a cherry 7 up.  I have 17 cents to spare and I momentarily loiter to retie my shoes and think. I think that with an adventure like this, I have no idea where I am going end up. Meeting expectations is boring and when I can’t meet up with them I feel like a failure. Out here is none of that, and I laugh about how only the unpredictable are interesting. I head down the road and come to a massive intersection but see the sign for 190 interstate and West Boylston. I cross all the lanes of the five plus way of the intersection on my bike because I have a green light. Driving with traffic in a four lane highway crossing over the bridge this is the thrill I have been waiting for. I get to where the road appears to fork and decide to go straight. The damn cross signals don’t ever let pedestrians go across so I cross the road on my own accord. I head down the road further and after a while I take another right. I am starting to feel fatigued but keep going eventually there are big concrete walls reminiscent of the UMass medical center area off the Uxbridge exit. Doubt plagues me as to where I am.
It is now that a suicidal spirit encourages a passive attempt to end my life. This I will do by blindly continuing on this trip hoping to get lost and not have the means to get back. I have no gloves and I haven’t eaten anything since 1 PM, it is now quarter of six pm. The temperature is 40 degrees Fareignheight and dropping, my hands are numb.  I cross the overpass of interstate 190, and watch the cars rushing by. The sign says “Worcester next two exits.” I come to the crest of a hill in which I can see every building in the city. Flying down the hill full speed I sing the lyrics to The Verve’s “Weeping Willow” a song about suicide. I also sing the lyrics to Porcupine Tree’s “Heart Attack in a Lay By” a song about a guy dying before reconciling with his loved ones. I focus enough to weave around pot holes, cars, lamp posts, guard rails and stay on the curb to avoid being in the street with the 4 lane traffic. I get to the on ramp where the sign says “190 interstate, Worcester, Fitchburg”. I ponder the inevitability of returning where I had driven for hours. It is now 6 Pm and is getting very dark very fast.
I admit that I may have to gear for a long night. I think about the previous night in which I read that we must replace our bad habits with good habits. I decide that I have tried to destroy myself by getting lost, I want to make headlines, but I know no one is immediately concerned that I was gone. A positive life-saving spirit decides it is time to take control. The whole experience and the fact it is getting dark and I am in danger only serves to excite me. I have pushed myself into a hole and I am in a town I don’t know. I know my photographic memory can trace all the turns back to where I went even though the ride has gone on for over an 1 hour and a half at this point.  But this is boring, I must find the wrong turn I made and continue on this loop to West Boylston. I walk my bike up this massive hill, doubting if I shouldn’t have continued forward, but the positive spirit is in control ready to battle all odds and bail me out saying, “We are going back the long boring way.” I watch cars fly by and realize I am tiring. I start to think about the Ritalin in my backpack.
Eventually I get all the way back to where I think I should have gone right, I go by the Holden legal department building and a dog barks at me, but I tell it to shut up and drive full speed down this road that continually goes downhill. My hat goes off, like the character in the video game I drop my bike on the grass and run in the street to retrieve it and I gulp down the Cherry 7 up as well. I get on my bike and tear down the street thinking this is my dream. I get to the end of the road after a while and tell myself this isn’t working I must go back the boring way. I see an old church and I am reminded of the time Tim and I drove to Wachusett on those back roads. Seeing the railroad track I think this Salisbury, but clearly seeing the sign “Holden Street” I call myself stupid.  I turn into a neighborhood and thinking good thoughts towards everyone living on that street I turn around. It is now almost pitch dark. I am unseen on the bike. I start up the gradual hill and decide that I need “the smart drug”. Oddly enough, I stop near the same house that I had thrown down my bike and ran for the hat. I stop, grab the bottle of Ritalin and take out the yellow pill, hold it firmly in my hands, not afraid to crush it, right now I cannot see it as I fish for my 7 up. Instantly I down the pill and feel goofy, energetic and wild eyed. I now have belief that I am superhuman. I catch the eye of an oncoming truck and realize I am in the middle of the road facing on-coming traffic. I laugh maniacally proud of myself for seeing this and I get close to the curb. None of these cars can see me until the last second and I never have any fear about it whatsoever. I just choose to avoid the cars.
I am squeezed in between the curb and the oncoming traffic. I hit the curb which bumps me into the oncoming traffic. The car gently swerves. I turn around and I see the headlights of that car with the right blinker on. I know he might turn around but probably will not. I won’t be caught anyway and the fantasy in my mind builds that possibly people are reporting a mad biker going into oncoming traffic. I also start to think about anyone who I had made plans with on this day. Those who said they wanted to ride bikes with me, but I have gladly chosen to be alone; I have no concern for them. I did not want to wait for someone and the bike ride would not have been as intense. I also feel at this point that my desire and quest for a nighttime thrill is so strong that no plans with anyone like eating or hanging out or whatever can satisfy me. I think that I am beyond civilian life and understanding. Richard Ramirez’s court speech “I am beyond your understanding” 1 continuously replays in my mind. I am only concerned that I appear “crazy” and I race up the hill. I have had many experiences where I appear suspicious and get in trouble for it. But I know all the laws and try to abide by them. I know the cop will say to me, “you are 21 and you know the laws, ignorance is inexplicable.” I cross the street and make the right I was supposed to take. I think that if I hadn’t taken this excursion I could have been much closer back to Assumption College. I continue down the road and pass by the “mount view middle school” but decide not to tear it up here because it is on the other side of the street. Also the rush of facing oncoming cars from a 4 lane highway is better than any baby bumps.
I am on the street and two lanes of 40 plus traffic is whizzing by me. I am going in between people walking and oncoming headlights blinding me. But I feel powerful, connected with supernatural abilities to handle any situation. I hold my nerve and steer the bike straight against dozens of oncoming cars for about a mile. I get to the 5 way intersection and race across where there are cars coming in all directions, the light turns yellow as I go across. There is no room on the road, it is pitch dark and cars are flying around the corner. I keep going up against the curb to avoid them. I am undaunted but decide to be safe and get on the curb. I know I am near the Honey Farms and I race down a business flying on the bike, the euphoric state2 of this amphetamine gives me a feeling of rush that nothing compares to. I feel very excited that this is a night I will never forget for better or worse. At this point my confidence is so-so of whether or not I will get back. I am slightly concerned. But excited that it may take longer, or be a crazier story, I still am pushing aside ideas of trying to make a headline.
But I go past the industrial park and Honey Farms that is lit up, and I see the Ford Dealership and take that left. I know that I am on the way back. However it is pitch black and I am crossing the bridge. There are tons of bumps, and my wild side says to look out at the dark water under the bridge but I do so only momentarily. I must put all my focus on trusting the bike to be straight, because a jerk has their high beams on. I know that I cannot be seen. Immediately I am reminded of how grueling this hilly, countryside road is and the lactic acid builds up again. And I know that I am very tired, but still believe that I am ready for an all night ride if it is warranted. I think about keeping the Plourde bike overnight in Worcester I know this will get me banned from renting one again. I start to think about reasons to battle through the fatigue and I know it honors God to be thankful. I name ten people that want me to live. I start to think as I am going down this pitch black road that I need to tone my wild side down, having cheated death innumerably this night so far. I decide that I need the courage to be boring, as I look at the countryside to the left of me. I heard sounds brustling in the woods and I know animals may be there. I start to flinch and get scared. But you must remain calm when on drugs and so I decide on a non conflicting way of thought. I pressure myself to desire to be attacked by the animals. I am on my bike, the head-on cars knew to get out of the way, and so will the animals. I am aware of a headache coming on, and I never get these when they are in my system, only when they are leaving and I am crashing. This is my seventh straight day of Ritalin usage and this is unprecedented for me. I know an overdose is possible. I start to think that is possible I might feel tired. But I still think that it is not possible to be tired from the several hours I drove the bike before taking the Ritalin. My mind shifts back to rethinking my way of life.
I realize that my parents care for me, my dad loves my mom and me when I show respect to both of them. I think of people I love both friends and someone I like more than a friend but quickly reject the thought that there is such a thing as community. I know no will understand me. This whole experience so far has been very positive and most will condemn me for sharing.  So I decide I won’t, I will go about my life, trying to do homework on a Saturday night if I can. People will perceive me as something good but won’t understand the forces within me. But I know I need to focus on my school work and graduate somehow. Then everything will be fine I will get a job. The drugs continue to give me a tingly feeling inside my brain and feel optimistic and powerful. I also feel love towards everyone in the back of my mind, and decide I am a social being and need others. I tearfully sing “Patience” by Guns n Roses knowing I need patience with myself and others.  I go by the road that leads to Charlie’s house but don’t care to go down there, I am in this on my own, and he probably won’t be home. I ride down the big hills and going 30 to 40 mph guided only by car lights in this pitch dark is a rush I will never forget. I cross the street on the bike and see a straight job truck coming head on, I don’t care what happens and I have no fear whatsoever. I know he will see me, I will get as close to the curb as possible and he will gently swerve away from me. He sees me at the last moment and passes by a few feet apart from me. At last I turn towards the carriage house on the left side of the road.
I am feeling incredibly numb, my hands are almost frozen, but my jacket is full of sweat. I overlook the campus and can see people walking together as part of a community. But I am here by myself, I chose it this way because I cannot be understood and I know that I am beyond their understanding. There is sadness that I am alone but I love being on drug fueled adventures by myself. Haven’t met anyone who can understand and appreciate these, but now I have no peer pressure. I decide against riding my bike down the stairs of the admissions office onto the road because I could get hit by a car, and I have proved to myself how courageous I can be already in this unforgettable night. I stop in front of Testa Sciene center and finish my 7 up. Another guy I know walks by with a friend saying he didn’t recognize me, I tell them about the adventure in my normal way saying I went to Holden and overcame traffic head-on. But this only elicits the kind of concern that causes me to isolate myself from others. But he says he is glad I made it back safely and he will see me in class. On Friday I put my status as lifting weights and didn’t mention the rest of the night with the drug inspired adventures. In this way people assume the best and leave me alone, because they don’t understand the thrill of living this wildly.  I sail through campus worried I won’t be able to relate to anyone feeling this way. But I tell myself I can compartmentalize and switch into a personality that is more outgoing. And so I greet a football player. I race into Plourde and laugh at the destructive ride I took. It is now 7 pm. Will S. cannot find the slip, and says I could have stolen the bike. The trip lasted 2.5 hours.  I laughingly and proudly and in a way that show no concern for my own safety I tell them about how I got by dozens of on-coming cars on the highway. I feel no bitterness, only the same euphoric2 tingliness in my brain that makes me laugh as Will says Plourde doesn’t supply bike insurance or life insurance. The other worker looks horrified as I continue to laugh uncontrollably about the night had. I think that if guys aren’t laughing at this night it must have been serious. I turn on my mp3 to “The Blind House” by Porcupine Tree and go into the night. I realize I still need something to eat for the sake of my body because the ordeal is not over.

Epilogue:
As a message to the reader, I enjoyed every aspect and practically every moment of tonight. Even being lost in Holden or some other town miles from Worcester I only saw as a challenge. I appreciated every house and yard. I imagined the lives of those who live there with a childhood enthusiasm. I only realize now that I am extremely fatigued and possibly from everything that happened today. My body was very tired but I felt energized from the “vitamin R”. My body and mind were disconnected and that is very dangerous. This is what caused malnutrition and other injuries in the past. I know that my interest in feeling supernatural must go towards goodness. I must read books like Joel Osteen and Christianity like I did on Friday night. This inspired me to work out. I must believe that good is exciting and evil is banal. I must fully get on the correct path and desire to connect with God to be protected from all disease and evil. I must make decisions that bring good things down the road.  I must connect to the “boring” part of my personality and push through that boredom to discover the satisfying life I have known on and off throughout my life. However, nobody knows what tomorrow will bring.



Unclear References
1.       
 "It's nothing you'd understand, but I do have something to say. In fact, I have a lot to say, but now is not the time or place. I don't know why I'm wasting my time or breath. But what the hell? As for what is said of my life, there have been lies in the past and there will be lies in the future. I don't believe in the hypocritical, moralistic dogma of this so-called civilized society. I need not look beyond this room to see all the liars, hater, the killers, the crooks, the paranoid cowards--truly trematodes of the Earth, each one in his own legal profession. You maggots make me sick-- hypocrites one and all. And no one knows that better than those who kill for policy, clandestinely or openly, as do the governments of the world, which kill in the name of God and country or for whatever reason the deem appropriate. I don't need to hear all of society's rationalizations, I've heard them all before and the fact remains that what is, is. You don't understand me. You are not expected to. You are not capable of it. I am beyond your experience. I am beyond good and evil, Legions of the night--night breed--repeat not the errors of the Night Prowler and show no mercy. I will be avenged. Lucifer dwells within us all. That's it" --Richard Ramirez's statement before he received sentencing at his trial.  
2.      Euphoria (pronounced /ju'fɔːɹiə/, from Ancient Greek ε, "well", and φέρειν. "to bear") is medically recognized as a mental/emotional state defined as a profound sense of well-being.[1] Technically, euphoria is an effect,[2] but the term is often colloquially used to define emotion as an intense state of transcendent happiness combined with an overwhelming sense of contentment. The word derives from Greek εφορία, "power of enduring easily, fertility".[3][4]

Euphoria is generally considered to be an exaggerated physical and psychological state, sometimes induced by the use of psychoactive drugs

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Myles Standish Misadventure

       I drive into the Myles Standish forest to go to an area I have never been. I miss a turn. An army of prisoners march on the road in front of me. |Believing I am in trouble, I stop. They let me go by; but the drill sergeant is yelling the chant
"We don't know what we've been told . . ."
His back is turned he is in my lane. The whole pack of convicts is in the other lane. I balance a tire over the ditch on the right side of the road and go past. I tail a white car over rough roads. I enjoy an autumn picturesque lake to my left. As I travel the rolling hills I see an abandoned car. And shortly thereafter a dude with a long beard. When I get out of my car and put my new shoes on. He comes by and we exchange pleasantries. It's 3:30pm. And as I walk, I enjoy the blue jays and prepare for my usual over-the-top long hike. I walk through rolling pavement hills to the desired dirt path. It is over-grown with brush. I enjoy the hills and feel out of breath. My new shoes are breaking in. I am getting in shape. I get to a cleaner path (less brush) and continue. I enjoy the majestic wilderness. I go far out, reflecting on many things. The stillness and quietness are unlike any other thing. I am far from the demands of people at work. I decide to run back. I get back to where the original trail meets. I stop since my shin hurts. My sunglasses and car keys are missing!!!!!
     
 I am the only one on this desolate and quiet path. So, even though it is 4:50 pm and the sun will disappear completely by 6:30 PM I head back. I feel discouraged at first, but then realize that I will rely on adrenaline like I usually have to on these miscalculated hikes. I see a giant frog, or toad- never could tell the difference. First, I find my cherished green sunglasses after some ways down the trail. But no keys. I continue. Finally, further down the path, buried in the dirt, are my keys. I head back holding my cell phone, the map, the keys, and sunglasses over my head. I am thirsty. I go down the familiar path; smelling pine all around me. No allergies, I only breath hard when I go up a hill.  I feel spiritual energy, I feel like I am watched. Although I don't think it is the intense feeling described by ghost hunters. But not wanting to attract demons or see some black eyed, disgusting looking horned monster. I turn my thoughts towards Jesus Christ. At ease my focus shifts to the discomfort in my feet. This path has millions of rocks, and it is annoying. I am not sure if my new left shoe is slanted, or if my footing is continually askew. I come by this creepy spot where this giant spruce tree stands. The bottom branches look like giant wings and completely cover the sight of what lies behind. The uncertainty frightens me. Otherwise, thick transparent brush hides nothing from me.
     I cross the street and head down the bike trail. I make plans with family and friends as I it is 5:15 pm and I expect to be out of the woods by 5:20pm. I go down the bike path and think about finding a wallet. I would take all the money, out and leave the wallet there. But if someone came back down the trail and asked me about the money I would give it back. I would not want to be duped, so I would demand a $100 finder's fee. If only. .  . I enjoy the sight of hills and valleys. A rowdy dirt-biker races by. I walk around the corner hearing a splash in the swamp. I don't see the Loch ness monster. So, I continue.  However, I am startled by people swearing and acting like drunk idiots. Only these fools are in charge of vicious dogs. One of the dogs sees me and barks ferociously. My heart races.

       The road wraps around the New Long Pond and my car is around the corner. (This picture to the right is a reverse angle. The road where my car sits wraps around the other side of this pond. You can see a silver car in the center of the photo, if you examine it closely.) But I can't past these dogs. The people are behind their car out of sight fishing and playing fetch with their mongrels. With no decency. I hear the dogs barking mad at some coyote near my car. I can't loop back and around to my car. I am out of energy and that would take an hour. Fear turns to anger.
       I want to call the cops. I want to yell at these people. But I get a bad vibe from them. These could have been the dirt-biking people which is cool but it seems to be against the law. The government shut down today. These are lawless people. I decide to trail blaze through this incredibly thick brush over the hill. I get scraped and bloody. I can't see where I am going. Finally, I hear the voices of these people -the dogs bark murderously. The sun is going down it is now 5:20 pm. I would rather come out too far down the road than too short and be attacked by these dogs. So I turn deeper into the woods. A branch breaks my glasses. The glasses I won at work. My cherished sun glasses!
        My frustration and the fact I have trail blazed before urge me on. Boy, I am more of a pacifist than I ever would have imagined. Why am I not snitching on these selfish numskulls. Although it is too late, the cops wouldn't even be able to find me. I see nothing but forest. No time to reflect on the forest. I realize that I sound like a deer and these jerks may lead their dogs to hunt me. At which point I will furiously scream. I stomp on plants and branches, destroying the forest I love. My shoes. my shoes. my new shoes! Finally, I arrive to the road. I am lurched forward. I trip and fall several feet onto the road. The dogs barking madly. I run forward to stay upright. I race to my car -shoe laces untied. It's 5:38 pm and getting dark. I am so perturbed I drive away in silence.
   

Monday, June 24, 2013

Silver Lake Hike Part 1

March 15th, 2013.
        I navigate the long, windy trail behind the water tower. Many trees and branches are down. I experience childhood delight in seeing the texture of pine tree needles. They were a happy memories growing up. The trail is inverted, as it winds around a hill - on the left a swamp with swans.
       I come to the open field, my thoughts interrupted with my worst fear; the sound of a dog. This sound is usually whistles or barking. This time the girls softball team is only jogging. I guess it is all those jiggling wrist bands. With the demeanor of a serial killer, I slyly travel a different path. I go unseen, even as it means choosing a path I have never been down. I follow the XC (the sport of Cross Country running) signs and come to an open area with two buildings. I see the door of the main barn is boarded up. And I see a newer trailer, an old truck, and old trailers scattered. I am, I now realize on private property! This means that in MA hick country a land owner might have shot guns or rottweilers. Across the long expanse of cranberry bogs, I see houses. One dominant property has white fences and giant RVs. Stupidly, I loiter down the path away from the main house but further into the private property area. But around the corner, I hear dogs barking. I turn around and reenter the woods. It is like I am an animal,
"My greatest fear is humans, I can't rely on primitive survival instincts when some douche might sick their dog on me, or shoot me for trespassing. I have an arrowhead rock I will use to take out an attacking coyote if need  be." 
        I am more comfortable in the woods with animals than in public with humans. I know there are more  paths to take without repeating previous explorations. I enter down a long path with brush and trees that has a tunnel quality. I am constantly stopping, taking off the hoody, in this freezing weather to listen to rustles in the brush. I think about the time I was chased by a man with an ax for simply walking through his property. However, I walk over a wooden bridge that crosses a giant stream. The water is roaring and I am able to see any approaching attacker. The trails go in three directions. Some of the trails loop around the the twenty foot entrenchment that the stream centers. The brush makes visibility down these trails impossible. 
       I venture the right loop trail. I see one house that is across an impossible impasse for attackers -thick brush stretching a 50 foot hill. I feel protected from mankind. I soak up the beauty of the trees with childhood joy. I  come to a place where I can hide for a minute and take care of nature. I always go right, further into the unknown. 
       Finally, I come to the apex of the loop trail. Across the other side of yet another stream comprising silver lake is a train track. And civilization is on the other side- dogs barking. I forge ahead on the path away from civilization. The trail is brightened along a bog. Parts of the stream cross perpendicularly under the path, I walk. I think of how cool it would be to own all this land. But I can enjoy this public land. I am sweating profusely- no refuge from the sun. My mind starts playing tricks on me; convincing me I have been to this spot before. I haven't. I am tired. 
        I come to a place that I recognize. So, I know how to get back.  But this doesn't diminish the creepiness of this place! The rusted pipes on the edge of the trail looked untouched in years. The power lines seem non-maintained. The telephone insulators are mad old. A grounded wire flings up and down, blown by the wind. I know from a survival book1 touching this wire might be dangerous. Thank  God I don't have a kid to scold about going near the wire. I think about nicely asking the kid his knowledge about the wire's danger, so, I keep the kid safe- without insulting. An abandoned shack with power equipment and beer bottles inside will provide my only hideaway from a coyote attack. The coyotes or wolves in Kingston MA are unceasingly howling. On both sides, of the narrow strip of elevated land, is water. Water has its own spiritual significance; whether good2 or evil2a. On my right side is a pond (might be Silver Lake). On my left side is a dam separating a raging river from the stagnant water of this giant pond. Twenty feet below me, giant tires hold the dirt from falling into the river. However, 30 foot trees have now grown in this pot. 

       Persisting on the familiar path back home, I gradually pick up two more arrowheads. The first one injures the coyote, the second and third arrowheads finishes him off. The howling becomes blatant, as nighttime falls. I begin to run. I come to the abandoned building decorated with graffiti. The abandoned structure creeps me out. I walked through it during the day, but now, I would never consider that! Light posts with devil looking horns appear to the side of the path. Yet another downed power line confronts me, the wire swinging repeatedly against the pole, making a loud eerie noise. This place is much creepier at dusk and could probably now garner an EVP or spirit voice! I walk by yet another abandoned shack with an industrial vacuum, Cumberland farms wrappers, and beer bottles inside. Understandably, I choose the exit path that goes through the giant opening of athletic fields. I continue the 5 minute hike to my car, only going through the woods when necessary. Freaked out, I head the wrong way on the highway. But I see a hawk on a tree by the side of the highway. Stay tuned for the next exploration.


Sources
1. The Worst-Case Surivival Handbook Student Edition, by Joshua Piven and David Borgenicht. "How to Deal with a Downed Power Line" pg. 23
2. Bible John 4:14
2a. Ghost Adventures Episodes: Bobby Mackey's Music World and La Purisma Mission

Friday, April 26, 2013

Experiencing My Thrilling Adventures

In this blog, I will write soley based on personal experiences. This is my only blog that does so. I have this insane adventures. I spontaneously get in the car at dusk and travel in the woods hoping to find creepy and beautiful landscapes. I will convey my emotions, the sites, and fun. I will also portray my survival during perilous conditions.