Camping Notes I

Quick jots on white oak bark:

Bat country. Bats everywhere. Bats eat mosquitoes, mosquitoes eat man, man sees bats goes EEEEEEEEE. Cycle of life.

I will not make a metaphor for my wild jump out of the boat and into the lake an allegorical comparison to the phrase "don't rock the boat, especially when you're sitting in it" in the present political climate. I simply don't have the energy.

Skinny dipping. Nothing skinny about it. My pale reflection in the lake could have been the full moon's fat ass. I kept my phases fully covered.

To Do List: Cauterize the campsite bathrooms with extreme prejudice. I have no idea what hellish combination of foul human waste and fouler disinfectant caused the eyeball-dessicating stench that permeated the outhouses, but Yog-Sothoth itself would spray the place down with Lysol. No place where one must expose their genitals should ever smell better when one is covered head to toe in feces.

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