Shoutin’ out for my planters

hey there crew,

It’s been a fair while since I’ve heard any treeplanting cuss. It feels like ages since I’ve seen a true, dirty, treeplanters face. Perhaps an epoch since I’ve eaten a trailer cooked meal. A century now past which I have not felt the plug of a jack-pine. Four tired millenia have layed un-cupped by the D-handle of a proper shovel. And a gustered period of time since a 5:43am wake up alarm. Do I miss such things? In a fucked up way, yeah…

I felt like reaching out for some news of the scooter crew. What say ye?

As for myself;

Just after I skidded my face on the floor of the skate park I figured it best to say my goodbyes. Skateboard in hand, pack on back, I destined for the grey-hound bus station where I had planned to plop down on my duffles and watch game 7. Somewhere between the skatepark and the bus station I hopped aboard a wife-beaten pick-up truck with two red-necks named Leese and Jon, and a puppy named "homie". It was a random limb which stretched out the rest of the afternoon with various activities including drug runs, pickin’ up high school girls, passin’ the pipe, slurpin’ rummed up slushies, robbin’ dumpsters behind Mark’s Work warehouse…so much weid shit happened that afternoon that it seemed like a whole week went by. My pick-up gang, which had evolved to include two prostitots, and a BC bound hitchiker named Amy, hung out with me outside the bus station until I left. Amy, who had hitched all the way from Halifax, plopped down with her guitar and played a plethora of Against Me! songs. It was the weirdest going away party I’ve had!

The bus ride was also an interesting afair. I spoke with a 60 year old man about his brain damage, and I probed him for his knowledge of every sport imaginable. He hopped off in Saskatoon, SK, and shortly after I purchased a 10 string acoustic guitar at a pawn shop for 125 bucks! From SK to Ontario I wrote songs, spoke to a 58 year old vegetarian woman about celebrities, and a 76 year old biker-grandma about her Gold Wing. It was a really weird collection of people. Over time, and as I gradually lost my mind, I evolved my attire to resemble that of a circus clown. The pot-heads who huddled together during pee-stops began asking questions and I thought they might attack.

In Sault Ste. Marie I got off and called Miriam’s mom. She invited me to stay for a few days and I sprung for the opportunity at getting away from the stagnant bus community. I snuck off the bus at Desbarats and met her whole family. It was a very relxing and cozy time well spent. I ate the most wonderful food, clibed the funniest of trees, and snuggled the softest bunnies; in return I helped out in the building of their straw-clay addition.

From Bruce Mines, I hitch hiked to Ottawa and it took me two days. That’s a story on it’s own.

Presently I reside in the lush forest of Southern Quebec. There’s a little town in this provice called St. Mathieu du Parc; it has an ice-cream shop, a hardware store, and a gas station. The town is surrounded entirely by cottage country, ranging amongst hundreds of fresh water lakes. My days are occupied with harvesting organic fruits and vegetables from a 1 acre garden. The people at the Ashram are all very sincere and easy to converse with. I’ll be here for another 4 weeks before travelling back to Ontario to party.

To all those Dal kids, the registration gates are open!

Be careful you guys, I miss you.

-Phil
 
ps: send me bits of news hey?