A Radical Benchectomy


Failure is a strong word.  It speaks to self-esteem, negativity, and self-flagellation. So rather than go down that path, I've chosen to frame the project scientifically: 

1) I tested the hypothesis that a single object, appropriately shaped and coloured, would attract stories and jokes without any external influence. 

2) Perhaps owing to an absence of a particular shade of lilac, or an irregular, discordant geometric shape, the hypothesis proved negative.


18 Hours Ago


Seb and I left Globe, Az without a care in the world.  Over the next 120 km, the following events took place:

Km 41 - Barc notices that the tires of the trailer, after only 500 miles, are squared off and bald, sort of like Barc's head.  

Km 77 - The right trailer wheel begins to wobble like Dumbo on a unicycle.

Km 82 - The left trailer wheel begins a repressed, self-conscious imitation of the right trailer wheel.

Km 96 - The metal, stabilizing bar/axle snaps.

Km 104 - The trailer wheels, following a final encounter with the rumble strips from Hell, perform an Olga Korbut sideways splits that, even for those without anthropomorphic inclinations, would induce a wince.

Km 104.4 - Drag the carcass behind a milkshake and burger joint, stare into the middle distance for 17 minutes, gather up the bits and pieces, and carry on.

(Author's Note: We've shipped the remains to Shaker Heights, Ohio, home of open-minded, sympathetic admirers of all creative projects, however ill-conceived.)


Where We Go From Here

Two nights ago I was sitting beside Charles, storyteller extraordinaire, who was regaling me with tale after tale in his rich Savannah, Georgia accent.  About 63 stories later, I said "Charles, would you like to tell some of these stories on film for my blog?"  Charles, the human, became Charles, the clam.  

My Charles experience has been repeated many times on this journey.  As I have no intention of wheedling, cajoling, or C'monnnnnnning stories out of people, I'll just keep making my one "ask", and one of these days someone will say "Sure!"  Actually, someone did say "Sure!" about a week ago.  John, an old soul, sat on the bench and sang a terrific, amusing song about UFO's landing in the desert.  Three days ago, Seb went to upload the song to YouTube and, well, there was about 10 seconds where John was getting himself seated and I say "Okay, I'm turning the camera on NOW..."  Then there's another 10 seconds of film where I say "That was great! People are going to LOVE that!"  Funny eh?

Never daunted (because we won't put ourselves out there far enough to get daunted), we've still got all our film gear.  Our Canadian flag is going to be the story stick.  If, between here and Florida, anyone ever decides to tell a story on film, by God we'll be ready.

And so it goes...