Wolf Lake

Insomnia is sometimes such a beautiful thing.

If these pictures look a little weird, it's alright. I'm testing a new method of converting photos into black and white. The results were a bit... drastic, for my liking, but the end result is a kind of dynamic contrast that I couldn't get through normal means. If you like them, great. If not, well. It's a work in progress.


Dan and Trevor. I think the quote here was "Dan, I need you get excited about your life."


The guys, watching Dan watching his camera watching me behind the fire. I honestly didn't think this picture would be useable at all. This attests to the abilities of the new method I'm using.


Dan, staring intently into a camp lantern. After our "Wildfire" fizzled, this was the closest thing to entertainment we had.


Ryan fishing. All he needed was a piece of buckwheat in his teeth and he'd be the quintessential prairie lad.

I had some pictures of Tracy in there too, but for whatever reason, they didn't make it up in this batch. Sorry!

What is Wolf Lake? Well, it's a little lake tucked away in the boonies of Alberta. Or so you'd think. Despite being extremely isolated, that didn't seem to stop people from tearing in with their huge trailors and ocean-worthy power boats. That was about my only gripe though. The weather was great, the stars were close, and it was good to be away from civilization with good friends.

More to come soon, I think.

Anticipation

It's the night before a trip.
I'm getting that feeling. It's a tension in my back. My eyes.
Don't know if this is anticipation, or anxiety.
But tomorrow I'm driving.

The Long, Cold Summer

This is exactly what it's been. The sun hid, and nothing grew. Storms came and blew everything over and indeed, where has summer gone?



One crack of lightning.



Two cracks of thunder.



And that's too close for me. I'm out.


Two weeks later, in a forgotten corner of the province, a place ravaged by hail and drought is clawing its way back to life.



I walked and walked along this road. Behind me, just empty gravel. Before me, a single, snow-capped mountain. There were no names for it, so I simply called it Lonely Mountain. Hundreds of kilometres away, and nobody for company.



The weather behaved, for a while.

And that's all. It's like an occultation. I'm in the same spot on the Earth every year, when the Earth is in the same place at that point in the year. The only thing that's different is everything else in the universe.

Storm

I'm not sure whether it's luck or fate, but I dodged a bullet last night.

We had an incredibly severe storm come through last night. Like a dunce, I kitted up my camera and went out and sat in the car to photograph the worst of it.

And the worst was pretty terrible. I will be putting the pictures up a bit later, but I came pretty close to danger. The wind was blowing hard enough that my vehicle was rocking on its suspension. All the trees were bent at odd angles, and the only sound besides the thunder and pelting rain, was this long, low moan that seemed to be coming from everywhere.

There was lightning everywhere, and I don't mean sheet lightning like we usually get. Trees were getting struck everywhere. The closest bolt hit about 10, maybe 15 feet away from me. I got a picture, but unfortunately, it only came out as a white blur because it was so close.

Scary stuff.

I guess a lot of the city is without power right now, and there's been more storms on and off for the whole day. I don't think I've ever had a summer like this, where we're worried about wind damage and the threat of twisters.

Margerinalized

This has been, perhaps, one of the worst months since 2007.

It goes without saying.

Things might be changing though. For the better, I don't know.

I've been looking at this blog for almost a week now, picking a few bits here, changing a few links there. I honestly don't keep track of what's being used, but you'll be pleased to note that I've done away with a few links to webcomics that were - for a long while anyway - no longer funny.

Humour, they say, is an individual thing. It is. But there comes a point where humour gives way into repeating and pointless dialogue. You might have seen it before. Yes, I'm looking at you Garfield.

Anyway. Work continues on the caymen saga. The more I work on this, the less I feel that the public at large will appreciate what I'm trying to do. Nevermind every dog-faced numbskull marginalizing me as... well, whatever names they want to call me this time.

Every person, in some shape or form, is superior to me. I'm not bothered by that. But it is counterproductive when I'm reminded of it at every opportunity.

Society as a whole seems hell bent on drum-beating or pity-mongering, whichever is readily available. It makes me sick, but at the same time, life must be really boring these days.