Away Sweet Away

Though I moved into this house on the Flowage at the end of September, I haven't really got to know many people around here.

Not that I'm unsociable. No, no, no. No.

Its just that, since I got here, its been one goddamned thing after another.

In the last week or so, however, the strength of my organism has reached the point where it can support the longings of my spirit. A bout of fair weather struck this weekend, without warning, and I was able to toodle down the road, a half mile or so, to the local public house for a jar and a bit of conversation.

I repaired to The Possum Eater's Inn and managed to fall in with a bad crowd, which is to say, a good crowd.

I met a fellow devotee of Dexter Gordon. I met the neighborhood cannabis hook-up. I met the local sports book. I met a guy who has over 120 quarts of canned bear meat in his cellar. And I met the lady who sells black market food stamp cards.

So, you know, I've arrived.