Sunday, June 21, 2009

Arcadia Mill update

For the past three weeks I’ve been doing “field work” in the impossible underbrush of Northwest Florida.I use quotation marks around the words “field work” to convey a sort of playful embitterment. If I am not mistaken, this particular brand of pretentiousness was patented in 1993.From it you should be able in infer that my three years of college education have earned me right to make blanket statements about how disappointing everything is. You should also be able to sense that I feel obligated to offer up cynical comments with a half-smile tacked on my face, laughing under my breath occasionally to let you know that I’ve decided you don’t understand what I’m talking about.

A strange and gawky sort of camaraderie has arisen within our little archaeology troop. I reckon some sort of brotherly affection began to coagulate inside each of us along with the realization that we all were mired in the abject misery that accompanies summertime in Florida. The temperature trots on and beyond the 100 degree mark every afternoon and the so-called “air” in this wasteland mimics the general atmosphere of a country club sauna (the sort populated by men whose socks are always appropriately dignified and carefully selected to demonstrate individual flair and personality). On the bright side, I’ve discovered that human sweat is a powerful stain remover. The next time you find yourself coated in human blood, just pump those sweat glands and watch it disappear. Works like a charm every time.

Despite my newly discovered penchant hacking at things with a machete, a implement which must be waved around all willy-nilly if you want to look like a badass (which a definitely do), I haven’t managed to seriously injure myself just yet. I did have a bit of an ugly run-in with a young sapling the other day. That nasty sonofabitch came out of nowhere and before I could smooth maneuver out of way KAPOW! I took a twig straight to the eyeball. But thanks to my cleverly devised and hastily executed blinking tactics or possibly some sort of innate anti-eye-gouging reflex (though I advise you not to bank on Mother Nature with this one 'cause I've got the moves) my eyelid took the brunt of the impact. I’ve grown pretty accustomed to this whole perceptual symmetry thing I’ve got going on, so I’m glad I didn’t fuck it up by losing an eyeball. I still cried a little bit though.

Here's a pictures of the rope bridge I walk over every day. I love this thing...

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