TRIPPIN' FROM THE NORTH POLE TO SOUTHERN GREENLAND - to be continued

          The thing about trippin' is not to be in a big rush, constantly on the run taking in one sight after another. Daisy and I find it better if we go with the flow and wind up in some mysterious place, even if we miss out on something that's been touted in a tourist's guide. Mind you, with my high-octave chemo-brain somewhat out of control, we're certainly discovering that the unplanned is definitely more exciting and more memorable; nothing like rubbing shoulders with the locals - man or beast. I mean, what could be much slower than hitching a ride on an iceberg at the North Pole as it drifts towards the southern tip of Greenland? And the polar bear that was coming towards us in the last blog didn't turn out to be as scary as we thought. As a matter a fact, even though a mama bear is very protective of her cubs, she was anything but dangerous once we got to know her.

          When Polly the friendly polar bear and her 2 cubs arrived and began sniffing around our Hippie Hangout and growling at us, we were more than a little alarmed, actually, I almost crapped my bell-bottom jeans. Now, I suppose you're wondering how does one become friends with a polar bear, especially a mama with two sucking cubs? I'm not sure if how we became friends was the best way but one of the times she stuck her snout through the trailer window, we gave her a good hit off the bong. From then on, the iceberg was home to us all; "live and let live" was our motto. 

          Polly was very hospitable, even clawed off a chunk of raw seal meat for us to enjoy. Tasted a bit like sushi to me but I could tell by the odd expression on Daisy's face, she wasn't too partial eating seal. And of course Polly wasn't overly fond of the things we preferred to eat but I can tell you one thing; she and her cubs really liked Daisy's brownies - eat enough of those and instead of being on an iceberg floating down Davis Strait, we were on another planet. Yup, we were all bosom friends by the time we sighted Greenland. However, if you've never seen a polar bear smile - let me tell you - it's a little unnerving because all you can see is a mouthful of teeth and very large sharp teeth, I might add. 

            As you can see by the top photo, by the time the iceberg reached Greenland, the warm summer days under the midnight sun took its toll - there wasn't too much ice left above water. And, when it finally nudged ashore we bid farewell to Polly and her youngsters and headed towards the town of Nanortalik, which unbeknownst to me meant "place of polar bears", actually Polly's home town.

          The folks of Nanortalik were of course stunned by the appearance of our trailer, which seemed to magically appear out of nowhere but like Polly the friendly polar bear, they soon took to us. Wasn't long before we were all the best of buddies gathered about our table in the Hippie Hangout passing around the bong and nibbling on Daisy's magical brownies, when poof!...cheers, eh!

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TRAVEL ALONG WITH TRIP 'N DAISY ON THEIR MAGICAL MYSTERY TOUR - to be continued...

             Living near the base of Green Mountain can be really rewarding, since it's not uncommon to see a dainty deer nibbling in the swaying grass or a big old black bear strolling through the yard. Since battling with cancer, 3 operations combined with chemo-radiation for almost 2 years and still on that bumpy, curvy road of recovery, I sometimes let my imagination travel where physically and financially I'm unable to ramble. I had dreams of a cross-Canada trip in our Hippie Hangout (1973 Falcon) and painted it all up for its maiden journey and that may still occur next year but for now, I simply just open the door and imagine I'm someplace else in the world other than in the driveway. And poof! Just like magic; I'm off with Daisy by my side for an incredible magical ride.

          The other day, the humidity was as thick as a damp sponge and the mosquitoes were as big as my fist banging on the door, when my Daisy and I made a dash from the house to the Hippie Hangout. How we managed to get through the door without letting any of those pesky critters inside was beyond me. While I was sipping a near-beer (can't drink real beer anymore since the last time I imbibed I went blind for a short spell) and Daisy was chasing an olive with her fingers in her glass of gin and tonic, I just let my mind drift and abracadabra, the trailer began shaking. And before I knew it as I looked through the window at the psychedelic colors whizzing by or perhaps exploding inside my head, our driveway turned into a highway and not being too much different than Dorothy's yellow brick road to the land of Oz, we were on our way! 

             It seemed like only an instant had passed and it must be so, since I hadn't yet taken a swallow nor had Daisy plucked the olive out of her glass. There we were, truck and trailer parked on a majestic iceberg at the North Pole of all places. Now, I've voyaged to the northern hemisphere before via sailboat that hammered its way through the ice but never like this. And if being parked on an iceberg wasn't surprising enough, when we stepped outside, you wouldn't believe the astonished expressions on a small group of Inuit hunters. Their maws were so wide open, they could have swallowed a beluga whale whole. Dressed in bright tie-dyed hippie-fashion shirts and bell-bottom jeans, Daisy's hair adorned in flowers and wearing beads around our necks, like the trailer, we must have looked really out of place too.

             However, in these remarkable days of holograms, space travel and not like the arctic days of old, it wasn't long before we became great friends, the hunters even shared some whale blubber with us. And as we sat and chatted, I thought why not and went back inside the trailer and got something we could all share as well.

          As we passed the bong around, the stories we all told began to get more absurd and the laughter even louder. And of course before we knew it, the munchies set in, so Daisy brought out a huge platter of tasty morsels, which we happily devoured in short time. Since the sun doesn't set (24 hours of daylight) in the arctic at this time of year, we had a great day of merriment before the Inuit paddled off in their kayaks. The quietness that ensued was as sparkling as the glistening ice, not a mosquito could be heard. However, when we spotted a prowling polar bear ambling towards us (humans on their menu) we decided to head inside the Hippie Hangout. Not being sure if we were in danger or not, I let my imagination take over and poof!...cheers, eh!

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ROOM 254 - Short Story for a Contest

Booksie 2019 Short Story Contest - Contest Entries

I just wrote a short story for a contest, which I think almost anybody would enjoy. Check it out and let me know what you think...cheers, eh! Click on the link above - thanks.

1.5 PERCENT, book by len sherman

1.5 PERCENT, book by len sherman

I've just written a novel. Check it out the first chapter and let me know if you would like to read more. Please like or better yet, leave a comment at the contest link listed above. Cheers, eh!

YELLOW BRICK WALL - A very, very short story.

https://www.booksie.com/597968-yellow-brick-road

I've just written a  short story for a contest. Check it out and let me know if it is worthy or not. Please like or better yet, leave a comment at the contest link listed above. Cheers, eh!

WELCOME BACK THE MESSENGER

          I woke up this morning to the sound of a skeeter about to dive bomb me and sink its proboscis into my wrinkly flesh, which made me crankier and meaner than a gut shot grizzly bear with two sucking cubs. Instead of blaring air-raid alarms and bright spotlights on the ceiling, I reached for the flyswatter lying next to the bed. Ah, ha I thought, gonna get you now, you blood-suckin' flying insect. Madly flailing the air around me until my arms tuckered out, I'm not sure if I was relieved or not, when I finally realized the noise I was hearing wasn't a mosquito but my ringing ears. Like my eyes and the rest of this tired old body, I guess they're plumb wore out too.
          Life here on our 50 acres of semi-wilderness land, where often is seen a deer, a moose, a bear or a lot of other forest creatures in the back yard, saddens me when I think about our government in New Brunswick headed by an Irving bean-counter. Their combined dinosaur brain attitudes is destroying the very earth we're standing on. Spraying the forests with poisonous glyphosate kills not only trees but kills everything else that lives within and outside those areas. It flows into the streams, rivers, lakes and even the ocean. 
          I dread going to Saint John, not because of my cancer treatments but because it's quite possibly one of the most disgusting smog-filled cities I've ever been in - the pollution is incredible. I'm surprised that the residents aren't protesting but then again, since many of them are probably employed by the industries, which are causing the pollution, it's understandable. 
          I'm amazed by a lot of people's lackadaisical thinking towards the very apparent destruction occurring in their own backyard. They say things like "if I don't do it, they'll just hire someone else", "whatever will be will be" and "I can't change anything". But that's all wrong; there are lots of things people can do - one of the main things being to vote for the right cause, which is not the economy - the economy to me is all a smoke screen, a load of propaganda. However, saying that, sustainability probably offers up more jobs that protect our environment than the ones that are being offered by the largest industrial polluters on the planet, which are destroying us - climate change is real - you only have to step out your own door to realize the weather is not performing like it used to not so long ago. The ice is melting at a devastating rate and the seas are rising - even the permafrost is beginning to melt, which will release dangerous amounts of methane into the atmosphere. The good Lord may have made a covenant that He wouldn't flood the world again, but He never said He wouldn't set it ablaze - methane is highly flammable. And if you don't think this is true, pull your pants tight against your ass, strike a match and watch the flame shoot out of your ass.  
          Before I was diagnosed with cancer, my energy level dropping day by day, I had to give up The Messenger, a publication, which came out once a month for three years. Up until the final issue, May 2017, "Good-bye" was published I tried to inform people, open up their eyes to the things that were happening on their own doorstep. Not that I'm in good health these days, most likely never will be, I'm considering republishing The Messenger.  I don't know how many of the people that read this blog and had read The Messenger but I'd be interested in your opinion on its revival. If I decide to publish it again, please keep in mind, although I do all the prep work for free, that it does cost to be printed and distributed Although it is free to the public, any advertising, donations or subscriptions will be a big help. Also, people will be able to read the monthly issues online for free as well. The first issue will be released in September 2019, so all ads must be in place and paid for a month before.
            I don't feel like I have the right to rant about a lot of things unless I'm prepared to actually do something and I like a good rant so I guess The Messenger was a good sounding board for me and could be again...cheers, eh!

WONKY-EYED PAINTER, POET but not a PHLEBOTOMIST

2'x4' acrylic painting 

          Despite my eyes being wonky - seeing double and blurry - I managed to finish the Ottawa Senators train painting. It's a good thing I painted the train first before the eye surgery otherwise I doubt the painting would have been finished - the logo and wheels would have driven me to drink, which would've be a good thing because I'd really love a beer. However, that being said, alcohol is taboo - haven't had a drink for 2 years - can't take the chance. That's one of the pleasant things I miss - a nice cold beer with a bite to it. 

          Now that the painting has been completed, I'm not quite sure what I'll do next. Perhaps I'll take up bull fighting, sky diving, car racing or become a jockey. Actually, since I've laid around for so long, I could probably get a job as a professional mattress tester or a portable paper weight. I've brought taking a crap to a whole new level as well, I've become a porcelain throne king - now if only I had a kingdom to reign and a crown to wear - mind you, the toilet paper rolls stand to attention when I enter the bathroom. Seriously though, I need another project, just one that doesn't need good eye sight - anyone have any ideas?

              I've been a rambler, a gambler

              A midnight lover, didn't blow my cover

              A writer, a fighter and a toenail biter

              I've been a painter, a fainter

              A know it all poet, don't you know it

              I've been poor and slept on the floor

              Nothing to eat, not even a purple beet

              And I've been rich, called a son of a bitch

              But what's a name in the life game

              I've been knocked down, a not so funny clown

              Laughed at, a cool cat and even a brat

              Over my shoulder, into the wind I've spat
              And I've been an optimist but never a phlebotomist 

              So take a chance, dance, prance or make romance

              My advice is to roll the dice

              Seven come eleven, not everyone goes to heaven

              But take a risk, tisk, tisk

              Don't be a wannabe, a cry baby or a wallaby

              Life is what you make it, grab hold and take it!

               Hmm... I'm at a loss for words, for something to say, so I wrote that quick little poem. I think there's a message in it but I can't really say what it is. But sometimes it's good to be a bit of a scribe, prescribe, describe and if possible, imbibe...cheers, eh!