Isola Bella. Isle of the white peacocks. What heaven looks like, I believe.
Hats off to our old friend Peregrine John, who said:
I hope Lake relates some adventures when he returns. Vicarious adventures are much more comfortable, I have found. In person they’re often nasty, disturbing uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner!
Great idea for sharing of adventures. I think there are two kinds we’d all like to hear. The scary ones that really are better experienced vicariously. And the ones that are just transcendent, which are much more rare. I put up an image of the latter type at the head of this post. More than happy to share some of the scary ones too. But first I’d like to hear from any or all of you about either type.
The Internet is by definition a vicarious experience. Let’s get closer to reality. Talk about the big moments in physical, sensory life for a change. Thinking of Lake on the world’s newest major land mass… Give him a reason to stay in touch.
Yes, it’s a trap. Remaining silent means you’ve had no adventures worthy of the name. That’s not true of you, is it? Smile.
Seriously. Peregrine John is right. We want to hear. We’ll be richer for it.
My own vision:
http://www.kylemoreabbey.com/
Hey. Give us the story that goes with it. I’m the only one who’s allowed to be high-handed around here. What was it like that day? What did it feel like to see it for the first time? Give…!
So. You’re all just treading water now? You have no adventures to share? This site is the place for the upsides of things. When I go back to Instapunk, it’s all about the many flavors of hell. What you want, I guess.
But think. Aren’t there moments in your life, huge moments of fear or joy or meaning, that you’d like others to know about? Silence is the eighth deadly sin.
Come on, people. Barbara? Tim? Ron? Lake? Winston? Helk? Brizoni (yeah, I know you’re here)? This is life we’re living. It has its incredible moments. I’ve got a few dozen I could share, but I absolutely positively refuse if you all don’t participate.
Sorry. I’m totally being spanked right now by allergy-induced infections. Pollen levels are chart-topping here in TX.
But just so you know I’m a sport and not ignoring you…
I spent a night under the stars in Daisetsuzan, a national park in the mountains at the center of Hokkaido. We got in late for a hike up the mountains (volcanoes, of course, because all the mountains in Japan are volcanoes…). The night was so calm that we didn’t bother setting up tents. I saw my first spectacular meteor shower that night. The hike was breathtaking. But towards the end it started sleeting on us. That was not fun. Our bear warning bells froze up.
I spent a couple of days wandering cobblestones in Gamla Stan, old Stockholm. I ate reindeer in a pub on the ground floor of the building Descartes died in. I never even knew he’d died in Sweden.
The year after my grandfather died, I took my dad to England to see the HMS Victory during the bicentennial year of Trafalgar. We stood in front of Nelson’s uniform, complete with bullet hole and bloodstains. We saw the piece of paper, recently unearthed, on which he’d sketched the famous maneuver dubbed “The Nelson Touch” which won the day and broke Napoleon’s navy (and thus his source of funding from the New World). We took a ferry from Dover to Calais and drove to the Ardennes National Cemetery to see the grave of his namesake uncle, a WW2 bombardier whose plane went down on what would have been his last mission even if it had succeeded. We got completely lost in Brussels on the way back (no GPS!). At a stoplight, another driver asked us for directions. Because of course the old guy in the Dallas Cowboys cap would be the person to ask for directions in Brussels…
Apologies for not elaborating further… I’m really tired. Heading back to bed.
Sleep tight, babe.
I’m not hiding, I swear. Been in meetings, from workgroup to Boy Scout, for a couple days. Plus, if I’m going to be given credit for prompting something, I’d dang well better participate!
There are moments like you describe, absolutely. The trouble – for me, anyway – is figuring out what moments are worth sharing. The scary ones, no problem. The transcendent ones, well, that’s a horse of a different color. How to describe them in a way that makes sense or even has meaning to anyone else? I’ll come up with something, though.
Two off the hook. The rest of you? Tick tick tick..
Leading convoys in Iraq was probably the most adventurous thing I’ve ever done. Aside from that I’ve had lots of mini adventures. Not terribly interesting to talk about individually, but pieces of a mosaic that make up the whole of my life so far. Perhaps the greatest adventure I’ve had is through knowing all the different people I’ve met, both online and in real life. I’ve been more of an observer or recorder in life rather than a mover and shaker, but I’ve certainly known and respected the latter. I’ve also met my fair share of villains. Relationships are an adventure all their own. All part of the Big Mystery.
My mother lived vicariously through me. We boarded Song of America, bound for Bermuda. Sea air, champagne, caviar, dancing, art galleries, productions. What a feeling. Great adventure.
While visiting in Split Rock, PA, my best friend Susan and I attended a gymnastics competition by mistake. One of the best days of my young life.
OK. In one or more of those alternate dimensions predicted by quantum physics, I lost an eye and am currently wearing an eye patch. I think I resemble Nick Fury from the Avengers comics; when he used to be white.
I was waiting in line for the bathroom at this bar, and this guy tried to cut in front of me in line. I called him out on it, and he pushed me. I pushed back – with a full cup of tap beer in his face.
Blinded by the foamy liquid burning his eyes, he panicked, and took a wild swing at me… leading with the drinking end of his beer bottle.
Miraculously, the narrow end of his bottle hit me pretty much square on the bridge of my nose – years later, I realized that if it hit me an inch or so to the left or right, I’d have probably ended up with broken glass, and who knows what else, shattered inside my eye socket, and thus, I’d resemble white Nick Fury, today.
After a brief incident with bottle boy’s pissed off buddy, my friend who was a nurse helped me clean up the blood and all that. The cops caught the guys and for some reason I declined to press charges (I really didn’t want to deal with courtrooms, and Judges and all that). So.. I went back to partying.
This guy saw me with this cut on the bridge of my nose, and asked “Dude, how can you STILL be here after what just happened”
I laughed at him, and replied: “Because I am a god!”
The next day I had to go to the clinic to get the cut looked at, and I had to wear sunglasses to my vocals class at college, because I had developed two black eyes.
The teacher asked me “Do you want to tell us why you have to wear sunglasses?”
“No.”
One of my most enjoyable times came during my years with horses. After an evening workout in the fall, I would put them out to pasture. With the harvest moon looking down, I would feel such peace as I listened to the mares chewing their hay. It felt like heaven.
Lake in Iceland here! I’m living my adventure right this second — no kidding, northern lights are rippling over my head right now — and I have a lot to share when I get back. Incredible footage, too, and I’ll post it here first.
Yes, Robert, internet is incredibly spotty, along with amenities like reasonably priced food, passing lanes, and eggs for breakfast. But I’ll be home in three days…
I remember driving as fast as a five horsepower engine could propel a small child, round and round the racetrack. The other kids wanted their go carts to be as fast as mine but with a jet engine mechanic as a father one gets some perks and a ridiculously fast go cart was one of those advantages one inherits through chance.
That man died a terrible death, wasting away in a cancer research hospital. I watched him die. I became quite good at video games.
A new father took me fishing. I remember when we got caught in a flood. He climbed the bank of the river using a root. When I tried the root broke and I fell into deep mud. I was stuck there trying my best to claw my way up the bank. He said very unkind words to me and turned and left me there. “You are gonna die tonight.” His laughter trailing off as he walked away. He came back in about ten minutes and pulled me up by my hair. He then threw me onto to ground. He told me to take the flashlight. I took it and shone it in his face (not thinking of blinding him). He cursed me and hit me.
I survived.
I met Leonard Crow Dog. I watched as the Sundancers prayed to the tree. I saw a man have holes punched through the skin in his back and I saw men put bone through these holes and then tie rope to the bones and suspend the man from a tree (the man was smiling and walking in air).
I went four years in a row. As required.
I used the Boomer Bible as a shield. It came to me when I was 13 and it read like an instruction manual. A guide for controlling expectations. A textbook on how to own friends and murder enemies.
Before I dropped out of high school I made a career of spending all my time in the “Alternative Learning Center” copying all the text that had been struck through. I wanted that burned into me like a brand. And it was.
There is so much more. I am working 80 hour weeks; I am a member of The Management Team. We have deployed well over 1 petahash of Bitcoin mining equipment in the last five months. I have made dozens of people into millionaires. In the last six months.
I cannot go further due to confidentiality agreements. Adventures.
Damn it. Knew there was a reason you’re so opaque.
I would listen, you know. I know you know. But you hang out there like a dog that can’t decide to sit by the fire.
Thing is, you’re not a dog. You’re Helk. Impossible, brilliant, unpredictable, chicken-obsessed, irrational, nonsensical, occasionally right only by accident, and one of the most interesting people I’ve met, albeit only on the Internet. You defy categorization, meaning you are a true individual.
Whoever it was that made you believe you should die should suffer a thousand deaths.
I am confident that everyone here, no matter how much you have ever outraged them with your opinions, will agree.
There would be many protestations on your behalf, but yours is a late comment on an old post.
What do you need or want? Should I dedicate a post to your unique story? Probably not. You’re not looking for sympathy. You have my email and my phone number. You don’t call and I guess you won’t.
Just understand this. If you ever need to call, you can.
I haven’t told any of my own dark adventures, but some might rival yours. Thinking you have the edge, but only until I tilt my head away from me and look at the scene like a camera. Then it gets closer. Call me sometime.