the mobs don't march, they run
I really got nothin' to say, but I kinda felt like updating. So this may be a bore.
Oh! This weekend, the Manning brothers are all going apple-picking! Loading up the vanned, making the trip upstate, and acting like a bunch of urban outreach kids that have never seen a tree before is quickly becoming an annual tradition. Apple-picking excursions of years past are flooding back to me, and I am reminded of when James Thorsen was being a maniac (in the best possible way!) and standing there, as only James can, with one hand on his hip, looking triumphantly at the landscape with a look of utmost satisfaction, as if he'd created it himself. With the other hand, he'd pluck an apple from the nearest tree, take one bite, and just toss the apple aside as if there were an unending supply of apples. Then he would undoubtedly say something ridiculous, like, "This is where I belong... out in the wild," with the most purposefully genuine look on his face. Fucking James! Maniac.
Re-reading that story, I realize you just had to be there.
October. Summer is now a fading memory, and I say good riddance. Bring on autumn and winter and bundling up. My nose is already running in anticipation.
Another crappy post in the books.
Oh! This weekend, the Manning brothers are all going apple-picking! Loading up the vanned, making the trip upstate, and acting like a bunch of urban outreach kids that have never seen a tree before is quickly becoming an annual tradition. Apple-picking excursions of years past are flooding back to me, and I am reminded of when James Thorsen was being a maniac (in the best possible way!) and standing there, as only James can, with one hand on his hip, looking triumphantly at the landscape with a look of utmost satisfaction, as if he'd created it himself. With the other hand, he'd pluck an apple from the nearest tree, take one bite, and just toss the apple aside as if there were an unending supply of apples. Then he would undoubtedly say something ridiculous, like, "This is where I belong... out in the wild," with the most purposefully genuine look on his face. Fucking James! Maniac.
Re-reading that story, I realize you just had to be there.
October. Summer is now a fading memory, and I say good riddance. Bring on autumn and winter and bundling up. My nose is already running in anticipation.
Another crappy post in the books.