A Lager Day Poem-November 2015
Part 1 can be found here.
Around the fire were two couples, and they were drinking beers while listening to Led Zeppelin. Lots of Led Zeppelin; all night long. I was impressed. The wives did not talk much, but their husbands sure made up for it. Their names were Bobby and Jim, and they were both Vietnam War veterans. As a Canadian, this was a demographic that I was unlikely to ever encounter back home, so despite how much overlap there truly is in the Canadian and the American experience, this would certainly be a treat for me. They quickly got me involved in their game of blow darts, which involved shooting foot long darts out of a long pipe towards a target which was about twenty feet away. When I reasoned that my beer intake was starting to affect my aim, I bowed out of the competition. Jim would not be reigned in so easily though, and he began to flip throwing knives up into the air in an attempt to have them land point down in a target near his feet. Bobby admonished him that one day he might stab his own foot, and that got us onto the lovely topic of healthcare.
During May and June of 2014, I was employed as a tree planter in the southern interior of British Columbia. I quickly learned that while the occupation was not for me, the lifestyle wasn’t too bad the rest of the time, with ceaseless eating and substance (ab)use around the campfire being a rather pleasant way to spend one’s free time. We all tried many different varieties of beer, whisky, cigarettes etc. in a communal consumption designed to forget the pains of our labour. Every two weeks we would get two days off instead of one, always falling on a weekend, and during one of these longer breaks I decided to take a little trip down the Okanagan Valley into the Okanogan Valley, Washington State.
The new school year heralded an extended summer for kids, more stupidity from the BC Liberals, and new stereo systems for my friends! Specifically two friends, Ian and Stephen, who acquired used, yet serviceable turntables and amps, to plug into their existing speakers. This meant that I would now have people to join me on my frequent visits to the many record stores of Victoria, such as Ditch Records, Lyle’s Place, and the Turntable. We quickly formed the Victoria Vinyl Appreciation Club, with “meetings” consisting of some combination of purchasing vinyl, listening to vinyl, sketching drawings, writing poetry, reading books, eating food, and drinking beer. This is where a blog post becomes relevant.
Every Pabst takes another little piece of my heart Turning it towards what I’ve got And away from what I’ve lost
Spinning the wheel of wax Hoping to win the whole ball of fortune So that one day I’ll meet someone better than you