Wednesday, June 4, 2008

I am back

I am back from the wilderness. After a series of green-tinged dreams I ran away to live in the forest. I realized that all my life the forest had been calling me but I did not have the ears to hear its wind-whispered words. So in the middle of the night, four and twenty days ago, I undressed and hopped in my roadster but not before removing all the maps from the glove box and putting them in the fiery furnace of my Westinghouse stove. I put it in self-cleaning mode and watched the roads of Great Britain crumble to ashes, all while cautiously keeping my distance from the hellish heat so that my dangling genitalia would not get burned.

Let me describe to you my dream, Dear Reader, Dear Daniel of the Blogsphere. I awoke in a petrified forest but in the distance was a burning flame housed within a ghoulish cave. I crept nearer and nearer the strange and humming glow, and my body grew more and more feverish, my glorious cock more and more erect, as I stepped ever closer. The hum grew more intense, like Mariah Carey exploring her upper range, and I had to cover my pulsating ears. Eventually my senses were overwhelmed with heat and noise and I collapsed on the ground, but not before I saw a wraith signaling me with a slow and flexing finger. I nodded my head in profound obedience and the world turned an absinthe green. It was then I knew I was to escape to the forest.

With neither maps nor my custom GPS I hopped into my roadster and let it purr. I revved the engine and felt the beast beneath the hood. Using the customized paddle shifters and Momo steering wheel, we wound down the treacherous corners of Snake Hill, hitting the apex of every corner with microscopic precision. Ah, how I will miss thee, rubber on road, growl of engine, but it is the forest that calls your master. I left her on the side of the road for a lucky thief, but not before urinating on each of the leather buckets.

It was then that I got drunk. Instinctively I knew that drunkenness would be an integral part of living in the forest as I would need to abandon my fears and inhibitions (and there are many). I wanted never to see sobriety again, not even at sunrise.

I lived for three weeks in the woods. Like Nebuchadnezzar and Timothy Treadwell before me, I ate nothing but grass and berries. Currently I am coming to terms with my experiences. I hope to blog about them soon.


Nigel Supertramp

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