Vlog the Inhaler, or The Occasional Video Blog Musings of Jim Thornton
Out of Idaho
by , October 6th, 2009 at 11:14 AM (1841 Views)
Back to my own little corner of civilization, such as it is, with clothes now dry but not my nose.
I am not sure how exactly I came into contact with a rhinovirus in the middle of Idaho's nowhere, but apparently I did, and I am back to my sickliness and malaise.
One of the most interesting facets of being alone in the wilderness is how quickly one realizes that whining is literally a waste of breath when there is no one to whine to. I suggest amending the old chestnut about trees falling in the woods, and whether or not such make sounds if no one hears it.
Does Jim's whining in the forest make a sound if there is no one there to hear it?
Unlike the Zen-like precursor question upon which this one is loosely based, the Jim Whining: Noise or Not? Conundrum does have an actual answer.
No, Jim's whining does NOT make a sound in the forest.
Babbling, on the other hand, might be a little different.
My babbling began some time after the third day, when the weather started to turn nippy, and clouds mottled the previously unbroken cerulean heavens.
It started with me singing a medley of songs with no apparent transition between them oh we love to go a'wandering along the mountain treks, yodelay, yodelee! a'waltzing Matilda with me, and we loaded up our bilabongs and kookaberry sat on his old Dan Tucker!
And from this music the babbling only intensified and has gotten a hold on me ever since returning to swim two days later in an overheated 25 m pool in the boonies of Pennsylvania oil country yodelay yodelee! and then the next day after our practice of 4,000 pitiless yards through the high grass country losing the trail here and there I remembered the spirit who guided me safely through the wilderness, my only cranially gifted friend, in this he was somewhat different from my two walking stick companions whom I named Hayzeus and H.G. for the one sitteth on my right hand and the other on my left...yodelay, yodelee!
...but fevers doused with flooding toddies of Nyquil do eventually break, and I suppose today's vlog will simply serve as a sop to my fans and a teaser of footage I hope to come but for now let me just include a few quick pix of me in my hypothermic lonely despair and the spirit god of the wolverine who provided me inspiration when the hours were darkest....
there is admittedly some controversy about the species nature of my spirit god--some (i.e., hunters, woodsmen, naturalists, and scientists) claim he is a coyote whose skull has been prominently punctured by a gunshot as evidenced by the small hole on the right side of his brainpan and the larger one on the the left) while others (me) maintain this is the skull of Old Man Wolverine himself, who has taken me under his savage claw and will protect me from evil here ever after.
You decide.
Exhaustion sets in
A man and his spirit god compare dentition
When I prove incapable of making sense of the map, my spirit god offers to take a look and offer directional advice provided I lend him my reading glasses. (Note what some "experts" claim is an exit wound behind his left orbital socket. I prefer to think of this as the channel through which Old Man Wolverine's etherous vapours could easily flow into my own worried and alleged soul, comforting me in that way only Old Men Wolverines can.)
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