Something I'm 100% sure about:

B-Rad makes one hella good 4 shot Americano. Makes me want to go surfing.

Something I don't know shit about:

When this ridiculously long (started in 1988) trial/hearing/appeals process for the EXXON VALDEZ OIL SPILL will end and I'll get my settlement for the lost of fishing due to a drunken skipper. Three Years in AK hunting Salmon and Halibut. Weeks upon weeks of 22 hours days. Waiting for a tender at 2am and falling asleep on a ton of reds. Hauling aboard a 1/2 ton of fish just to realize they aren't reds, but humpies which instead of .08 a pound are worth .015 a pound. 3 separate Halibut openers. 42 hours straight of laying 3 miles of long line at the bottom of the sea. slaying Halibut in fuck gnarly weather. Countless snicker bars, countless Gatorades, handfuls of Advil, duck tape to cover wounds. Hundreds of 15 to 70 pound bottom feeders. 1 mammoth 322 pound halibut. 22 minutes and 4 gaffs in the temporal region to haul said halibut aboard. Getting the job of bleeding out, de-nadding and cleaning the big motherfucker halibut, which makes watching the Brokeback Mountain boys on the PBR look like a bunch of 80 year olds trying to dance to polka. Feeling like a murderer but lusting for the almighty dollar. Wading in ankle deep blood sloshing about the deck. Fishing in 10' seas. Grinning after unloading halibut and doing a quick bit of addition in my head and realizing what the last 42 hours made me. Weeks upon weeks and months upon months at sea fishing salmon. Set after set. Dinner after dinner of salmon after salmon doesn't taste good anymore. Weeks upon weeks without a shower. Same dirty clothes, day after day. Weeks upon weeks of no regular sleep. Naps. 10 minutes. 2 hours. 30 minutes. Going back to town and getting drunk. Really drunk and getting into real classic Alaskan bar fights. No weapons. Just fists a flying and then laughing about it after and drinking more. True stories. Living, working, breathing with real hard-boiled characters. Falling in love with and living with a pure stone cold beautiful mountain girl that brought me back from the dead, literally. Lifelong stories and memories that are just the tip of the iceberg. On paper, in the courts. In some office. Some computer holds my id number that has a .000875% mark after it. Crazy.


ben said...

You forgot the one about going to take a piss in grizzly territory.

Bicycle Hellfire Machine said...

Didn't forget, just still can't think about it. Nightmares you know. Thanks for reminding me.