Well hello there and a very merry Tuesday from me myself and I @otherbrandt to each and every one of you out there on Hive or elsewhere unfortunate enough to be reading these words instead of doing something worthwhile with your time. I really appreciate you stopping by but you could be doing so much better.
For instance National Geographic almost always features words and pictures of far higher quality than anything I've ever published here. Other options I'd recommend leaving my blog immediately for include American Heritage, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Intercept, The Critical Drinker, Ryan George, Sylvia Plath, Shel Silverstein, Gary Larson, and everything by Cormac McCarthy except for Suttree.
I could go on but I've got work to do so when you've finished making your way through all of the above hit me up in the IRCs and I'll shoot you a few more suggestions.
Anyway. After leaving wherever we were before and driving the required number of miles in the appropriate direction to arrive at wherever here was, me and my clunky old rustbucket of a Subaru, Yolo McFukitol, looked around feeling a bit lost and confused for a while till finally we realized that here was Tower Rock Campground in Elizabethtown, Illinois. The tiny little general store we'd stopped at on our way had refused to sell us booze on a Sunday but we're the clever sort so we'd found a loophole—cooking wine. As is our custom when camping we got right to the drinking and then to the cleanupping but this time we'd barely begun when tragedy struck.
I was feeling fine. My mind was calm and my soul was satisfied. With arms wide open and hands full of beer cans and plastic bags and gladness I strode to and fro with purpose and direction and a head empty of negative thoughts when suddenly I glanced down and realized what I'd done and my heart sank like a stone, like a smooth stone meant for an enemy slung instead through the forehead of a friend.
For like the greatest of fools to ever have wandered the earth I'd wandered straight into the midst of an ancient catfish graveyard.
Woe is me—for I have seen the invisible eyes roll themselves up in empty sockets, and I have felt the gaze of the long since dead set like claws upon me. None can swim from this.
Alas—the ancient river is in me, and I am in the ancient river.
There is naught to save me now, for I am bound by the Curse of the Catfish.
I accept my fate. Farewell.
What happens to you once you have been cursed? It seems like to turn entirely into a catfish would not be a curse. You could swim about, too strong to be caught, free and at ease to terrify the guys on that big boat. That seems like something you would enjoy. Maybe instead you will become half-man, half-catfish and you can only break the curse once you have collected every piece of trash within one mile of the banks of the lake...the catch is that you now have gills.
Your guess is as good as mine. Nobody actually knows what the Curse of the Catfish is. I do like your half-man, half-catfish idea though.
!PIZZA
Keep us posted. I will keep my eyes peeled for you in any documentaries called Finding Catfish Man. I've always enjoyed a good Sasquatch sighting - I'm sure Catfish Man will be just as good.
While living things can be in this way in nature, plastic and some processed materials do not disappear easily. It's a shame that people pollute the environment.
Your photos are really high quality. 😃
I am very curious to go somewhere and do something with the tent. I've never done this before.
!PIZZA
It is indeed a shame that people don't think more highly of their environment. May the Curse of the Catfish be upon them! :)
!PIZZA back at you!
Do you ever metal detect areas like this or do you think you will be doubly cursed?
Also, I saw that you were buying some punks and I want to invite you to Punk Legends Discord community.
Alas, I don't have a metal detector, otherwise I would. Curses be damned!
Thanks for the Punk Legends invite :)
!PIZZA
I already read the Narnia tales and enough of C.S. Lewis, any more and I might spew us. The rest I skipped since they seem a trifle bit of a bore, but I did check out old funny Gary Larson. Made me think of scarred trees, found this and thought you might want to keep it in mind for your next wilding in the woods:
You know, I'd never have to concern myself with catfish curses in catfish graveyards, they all mutated to mud in the rivers where I am. Bye-bye catfish curse due to pollution worst.
Loved the read, surprised your dark heart didn't meld with catfish curses better. Maybe it's a fish thing? Kinda fishy to me.
@brandt, I think he's making this all up, not the baddy he pretends to be.
That's classic GL right there, I've read all his of comics including his more recent New Stuff. I've got my dad to thank for that :)
No one fully understands what the Curse of the Catfish really entails - perhaps it is not a bad thing after all, perhaps I am actually more powerful because of it!
!PIZZA
Ah ha! I smelled the sweet scent of GL love. I have not read his new stuff, I'm behind, but I'm going to catch up. Your dad was so kind to provide that. For laughs, I made a couple things from GL, one was a daisy (pressed in a book in the comic) and the other were buttons (the alien that landed on earth, I think the one where it fell down the space craft stairs). Yeah, I'm a little fixated on his comics, LOL. You know why. 🤪
Curse of the Catfish times reads as:
Only Time Will Tell
That's my kind of entry right there. The clumsy awkward kind. Maybe that alien was catfish cursed.
LOL, I didn't think of that, it's quite possible that alien was catfish cursed. Btw, went and checked out the new ones on his website, LOL, still packing a punch. You know his daisy ones? I have a couple tiny stories about how I went a bit daisy because of them.
I remember the daisy ones. Gary's still got it for sure. I hope he never dies.
Hahaha, there were several. He's a really gifted person, still my favourite today. Long live Gary!
Goddammit what have you gotten us into this time.
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