journey through the wasteland

Day 1:

I shall begin my journey on the morrow. My spirits are high. I have purchased a camel to serve as transport for myself and my supplies through the desert. (I have named him “Murray”.) God willing, I shall return from my journey through the vast expanse of my brain with some sort of idea for a blog post. I relish the coming adventure.

Day 2:

My journey has begin on an unauspicious note. It seems that Murray does not relish the adventure as I do. I am beginning to wonder if I understood the merchant exactly when he described the beast as “untractable”. (Does that not mean “will not lose a track”? The phrase book is negligent in this area.) Am beginning to wonder at my choice of a camel as a tracking beast. And I am also convinced that camel spit is not conducive to a healthy appetite. However, my spirits remain high. Blog post, ahoy!

Day 3:

Excitement today! Had an encounter with an idea! At first I thought it was the fabled blog post I was seeking, but it turned out to be the memory of where I had hid my car keys. (That’s where they were!) Murray and I had a shared chuckle at that one, let me tell you. (At least I think he chuckled — hard to tell with a camel.) Hopes renewed, we journey on!

Day 4:

My mental landscape seems endless and yet curiously empty, with vast tracks of formless thought and the odd mesa of movie trivia. I have been attempting to map my journey as I go, yet I find the lack of substantial landmarks distressing. Worries gnaw at me when I consider making the return journey. But I soldier on. Murray remains stolid. (What is that smell?)

Day 5:

Murray is no longer speaking to me. I merely endeavoured to introduce him to the concept of mouthwash. Camels seem to have a natural avertion to dental hygiene. Or at least Murray does. I hope tomorrow brings better relations. Did run across the entire lyrics to “Little Bunny Foo-Foo” in the shade of a Joshua tree. Have stowed it in my saddle bag for later examination.

Day 6:

Thirsty. Murray drinks too much water. Has also devolved a taste for my Gatorade. Murray thinks he’s so special.

Day 7:


What a shock! Murray is actually a girl! What I had previously accounted to be woefully inadequate physical “attributes” have actually turned out to be attributes of a feminine nature. Will need to review my previous exchanges with Murrayetta — have I inadvertently offended her with my male camraderie? This puts the whole trip in a whole new light! Tired now. Must sleep. (Does one offer a cameless the choice of pillow? Whole avenues of male-and-female-camel relations are a blank slate to me.)

Day 8:

Ran out of licorice sticks by the Grade-Five English Class Gorge yesterday. Feeling blue. Murrayetta seems inconsolable. Perhaps should have avoided sharing them with her. Damn her alluring eyes. I can refuse her nothing.

Day 9:

Have reached a vast impenetrable canyon, devoid of any concrete memories or impressions. After careful examination, it seems to be the remnants of Frosh Week 1989. The only definite clue is the overwhelming odour of rum and Molson Canadian. Did I really drink that back then? The horror…

Day 10:

Murrayetta is looking at me funny. Not certain if she is determining my worth as a possible mate or as a food source. Either way, my unease grows.

[to be continued...]


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