The Island!
Back to a more traditional form of describing reality, I have been all over hell and back when it comes to traveling, done a fare share of fine rock climbing movements over stone, and made ski descents and ascents on 4000m peaks with helicopters and avalanche beacons and snow, and crevasse and sun. For the record, when I say hell, don’t get me wrong, its just an expression, I’m not trying to say bad things about the places I have been, but who knows, maybe I am. Still following me?

The first details of my travels I would like to share begin shortly after the writing of Blog 14. I will say in advance, the escape from the Wal-Mart dominated lands of Arkansas was challenging and intense and not one member of the team seemed entirely confident. Island natives Chad Greedy and Cooper Roberts, were my company, and we very excited to make a move on the greener pastures of the planet. It all began the day of our attempted break out from Horseshoe Canyon Ranch and the transmission casing of my car being mysteriously destroyed. The loss of freedom quickly rendered us depressed and slowed my thinking. The Mafioso mechanics informed us we would be waiting life out in the countryside until next Tuesday. They laughed about how unfortunate the situation was for us, and how this “golden” part was actually really normal, but in their country, it wasn’t easily available. We saw stars while feeling dizzy for the whole day, and completed a passage of silence to show the gods we were not pleased with their cruel acts of violence towards the car.

Chad made several attempts to communicate with a Hawk, but it seemed drained of energy. Unable to call our savior, always willing to whisk us away from danger on his feathered back. we pondered our futures. Coop became nervous and walked in circles sweating, while I started speaking double time, and breathing infrequently. Chad wandered off far into the forest and beckoned some one fetch him; things were not OK. With Chad's failure to act as conduit to higher powers, we noted a sensation. We marked this time in space and thus agreed on an ensemble to step it up a notch, releasing lots of frustrated and energy and in turn feeling safe and refurbished. Without some local connection, we were fucked, and we could see this fact in each other’s eyes.

Somehow, and someway Island native Blake Stricklandmenton found us. If he hadn’t taken us under his wing that fine Sunday, we would not be here today, but lost in dark forests haunted by meth addicts and littered with fur-cat traps. As he rescued us, and provided us a temporary home, we felt he had saved our lives, and elected a member of the team to ask him his price. Coop sealed the deal, using Chad's gypsy tears to calm his already unstable vibration. and returned our world to balance by paying him back the thirty two dollars he priced on our three heads. Like a sword slashing through air, in one quick whoosh, we were in a whole new boat. We were transported to the center of town, and led into the play-zone, for college kids, and we started to mingle.