Rage, Riot, Return to the Woods
August 20, 2020Its funny how things coincide. First we were traveling around the country helping out with these gatherings
meetings that needed someone both burly, and someone handy with a knife, and the partner and I happened to fit the
bill. Fuck yeah teamwork. What did we get ourselves into.
Traveling wears on yah, and spending 60$ for a matress that had its springs replaced around the same
time the coffee was made (1992?), its not nice. Traveling around hotels leads you to this odd place built more for a businessmans
idea of a wallet attached to a stick-figure drawing than for actual humans. Lots of asphalt and little corners where maybe you’ll
find someones abandoned construction trash, or maybe 20 decent sized sunfish half-frozen in the corner of a parking lot in Stevens Point,
Wisconsin. “Convenience” stores across 6 lanes of traffic and lights that scream move on. And cant forget the dog problem, some people dont like dogs,
some people think they eat children, some think our adorable muttly might drag them into the pits of the underworld just because they smell sulfur when she scratches.
Then we managed to fall into owning a truck. Not a big roaling coal kind of truck, but a respectable, hold its own in a bar fight kind of truck. A truck that could tow things. And of course we suddenly realized that like the rest of the country we were only three months from being homeless.
The S.O. and I like to search bout things. We found out there was a whole pinterest culture of camping. Which is nothing bad to say about pinterest, there are lots of ladies out there making a lots of nice things, like terrariums and minotaur mazes made entirely from things you find in the Target homecrafts isle. But such a thing seemed a bit cheerful for an emergency armageddon wagon ya know? Like where does the laser fence go, and what about the AR mag dispenser?
So then we find this post on something or other about returning to the woods and we’re like thats it, we’re gonna build us a sweet rover, and get a ton of comphy bedding, and make a place for the doggo, and drag our friends and family kicking and screaming into the briar encrusted darkened boughs of some forgotten woods, and we’re gonna call it R3.
So uhhh gonna try to post some stuff bout that here.
S. Viola