Vines eating trees

Vines eating trees
Originally uploaded by amnesoid

Hello journal,

It is 2008, hurrah. Last year i was hurrahing in the new year through the wilds of Patagonia, amidst a succession of experiences which are as close to 'religious' as i am able to really get anymore. I used to have more religiousish experiences more often, but mostly those had to do with rocknroll or girls probably, so maybe it is better now that they are far less frequent but more often about topographies of the planet, and hysteria of Our Universe.

But i digresseth, because i have not even had a religiousish experience in a long time.

Here is a photograph of The Weeds. The Weeds is what we used to call the rural overgrowth surrounding the childhood home. It is true that it was weedy, but it did have quite a few trees which may have been forgettable but at least they were respectable. There were not many vines back then. There were a few patches of vines that formed glorious parapets and earthen cathedrals, but they were prominent only because they pulled themselves up on prominent trees. And as the impressed toddler emperor of my domain, i allowed them to stay and thrive.

Twenty years later they have taken over completely, and the trees are barely alive, and they are being pulled down, sure as decades. It is probably wholly symbolic.

I do not know for what, yet.

The future has come and gone and left me a failed and exiled emperor with acne scars, and i am beginning to suspect that the vines are an invasive species. I briefly consider calling upon warriors and mercenaries of arbory, who would take a moment to grieve before torching everything, burning it all down to spite the vines.

Don't fortresses evolve into a barren patch of land.

Evolve, devolve, indeed.

-

HUMAN RESOURCES is the name of a department within a company which handles the logistics of the worker bees and carpenter ants. My particular HUMAN RESOURCES is putting the push on me, like the stereotypical sheriff in the western movie. They want me to submit to my two-year-old verbal pledge which had to do with permanently relocating to a mystical place called "Trenton, New Jersey, United States of America." My immediate boss is Canadian and wants me to become a Canadian and stay in Canada. I do not want to do either of those things, and so now is my opportunity to do neither.

Nobody has asked nicely.

My Canadian work visa expires on March 28, 2008. Oh, America in the Spring.

I have called my landlord on the telephone. I have not talked to him since before losing touch with my emperorship in the wilds of Patagonia. Since then he has only known me as a monthly check within a stamped envelope. I told him that if he needs sixty days worth of notice for the vacating of his premises, well then now he has sixty days of notice for the vacating of his premises.

I will be moving someplace in fifty-nine days, i wish i knew where.

Journal, could you use a sofa and a bookshelf and a microwave oven? Lately i don't have the desire to own much.

Yf,
-tim.