I’m Alive

Birdman

I made it out west, but I’ve had a very busy threefour days, so I haven’t had any time to blog. I brought my old laptop out, just to make it a bit easier to get all of this shit down as it was happening, but it hadn’t been turned on in over a year, so it has been updating and being extremely slow since I opened it. When I put the internet browser on, it crashes and I have to start all over. That’s why I’m writing this on my phone.

I’m going to leave you with a few photos of the beautiful scenery, and where I’m working, just so you don’t feel sorry for me. I don’t need your fucking pity.

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Those are from the shale pit that we are hauling out of. I don’t think I will ever tire of working in the mountains. Well, unless I become a dirty seismic freak. In that case I’d be tired because of the uneven terrain and all of the physical labour.

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This is from the hilltop shitter.

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Apparently there are petrified trees in there somewhere.

Those are from the Hudson’s Hope highway. That’s the Peace River. It’s the one that Aaron and I almost perished in.

(This is where I fell asleep and forgot to finish this albatross. It’s okay though I remembered the next night.)

Could you imagine if our story was different? I think about that often. What if I had of died like Aaron thought was happening? I didn’t really know Mrs. Birdman then. She might have seen the news and thought that it was too bad, but really, people die every day. My family would have been pretty sad I think. Most of them anyhow.

Aaron would have watched me die that day and then gone on with his life. He’s pretty practical and smart, so I think he’d realise that sometime life sucks, but it still goes on. He’d probably hug his family extra tight every night and be thankful that he made it. I hope he would pour a beer into the river every year to remember his lost homie and then shoot a couple of rounds into the cliffs. I bet there is an echo that would deafen him. You know, just so he would remember me a little extra every time he tries to hear anything, but can’t.

Naw, I’m just fucking with you. Like I’d want him wasting beer and ammo like that.

Anyhow. I will try to put something funny together one of these days, but right now I have to go to bed, because I put diesel in the hydraulic tank on Jimmy’s truck and I have to get up really early to see if I can’t fix it up. I mean earlier than the 5 AM that I would have been getting up anyhow.

Safe complaining, ’cause everything’s rotten, go insanin’, and ain’t a thing forgotten,

Birdman

 

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