I have not been writing much (I have tons of back log but sometimes they seem like old logs in the forest I have let much moss grow on, I might lichen it to neglect), the muse is cold and hiding somewhere inside my home, where? I do not know, I’ll find the little minx, after all she loves to influence me in not so mysterious ways, so I thought I would just share a random memory of my childhood, let it be said I never know where my blog will go, nor does it matter, do you question the river as it makes it’s way to the ocean ?

and now, the musing (sans the muse, I swear she is around here somewheres): I am not sure if it is a northeast america thing, a New Jersey (pronounced Joizee) thing, or a cultural happening in my circle of growing up thing (but we all seemed to be doing this thing),  this thing that I seem to be avoiding naming goes by the name of “sleep away camp”, firstly, we were conditioned prior to this experience with “day camp” (for me Hi Hi Hills in Watchung NJ , boy has it changed!), so the evil plan hatched by my parents to rid themselves of the children for the summer was afoot, I imagine, wait… I don’t want to imagine why they would want to send us away for a time, to knit ? or mow the lawn? yes… that’s it, nothing else biological entities would do, definitely not that, or any of that sort of thing, I am sure of that, that that was not the reason, surely I am a product of an asexual processes, well… I am adopted… so I am going to hold onto that regardless of the merit of actual logic, and the fact that I do not wish to see that movie, not even the outtakes, or even the deleted scenes, or behind the scenes, or hell… even the story board treatment is out of the question, now, where was I?  so, day camp was a proving ground, an experiment before the grand experiment, to be sent away to a never ending place of stimulation roughly two hours north of the homestead – for the never ending summer, that inevitably, ended, but it certainly seemed much longer back then, the camp of my family choice was Camp Sequoia which goes by a different name now, but is the same gulag, you see, for the most part I did not love my time among the other fellow travelers, I loved the nature aspect, heck, I took every hiking trip I could (there is nothing better than cowboy stew on a mountain I tell you – OK legit s’mores are a close second), or the time I woke with a porcupine on my sleeping bag on Tabletop (they have bad breath, and huge buck teeth, but love american cheese, no shit, hand fed the little bastard after he climbed up an inadequate for escape tree), but back to the point… um, yes, sleep away camp, a vacation for the parents, there was only one day they visited in what seemed like a forever clip (they did send contraband, which made me feel all sly), in fact it was just basically six weeks, funny how time really is different then and now, of course that is nonsense, my perception of said time is the difference, it almost seems like a different life, disconnected from this one, so, wait, I have to go back to the post origin… part of sleep away camp was “canteen”, our time for free for all, basically an hour in this one hut that had goodies and one arcade game… you waited all day for the prize like a dog giving paw, you walked up to the window with immense anticipation, as you could score a sugar bar (I mean what is candy if not that?) so for that moment I used to score, a charleston chew and then saunter over to the Mr Do cabinet (the only game in town as it were)… slip in my twenty five cents (um, a quarter) and piss off about 30 other kids because I was the real Mr Do deal, life is strange, the things you remember clear as day, I love that game, I do not so much love the cavities wrought by the charleston chews however…