Sunday, November 4th, 2001 9:19 am
How to Get Journal into Campground Culture
How the Dream gets integrated into the story:
"You're awfully antisocial tonight. A penny for your thoughts," muses Paul Peter. "I'll bet a dollar they have nothing at all to do with desert flora and fauna."
His eyes are really blue, not dark like the other's! "What?" she asks in confusion. "Flora who? I don't remember which one she is."
Soft laughter greets her remark.
Paul Peter, at the campfire.
"Things are kinda dull tonight. Let's hear some more drivel from that infamous journal of yours."
"Not if I am just going to be an object of your ridicule."
Hand over his heart, Paul Peter swears, "I promise not to call a spade a spade, from henceforth on, referring to one as a shovel, and to refrain from making any true comments, less they offend the sensibilities of our totally defenseless flower of femininity who has graced us with her presence."
With some misgivings, she hands it over.
Opening it toward the back, Paul Peter flips a few pages, then reads,
Day One: First Saturday free! I'm Off to Arizona on the Grand Adventure. Sure beats attending summer school!
Day One -- Noon:
Whatever was I thinking promising my students so adamantly that I would write every day? I just ate lunch somewhere in a desert not as famous as the Mojave Desert, but just as HOT, waiting for a kind stranger to return with a water can because Baby Blue Ram blew his top. It is AWESOME when a 10' long hunk of metal starts to smoke and threatens to explode if you don't let him STOP. He always HAS had an unusual personality*. He spent his youth jealous of the dog, the stallion, the cats, chasing them downhill whenever he could.
Of course, my appointment with John Quantico, he of the beautiful, meaningful, intelligent letters in two different languages, was for noon, and I am HUNDREDS of MILES away yet... I think I should have gone through the mountains instead of taking the flats... But this is the route the on-line trip planners suggested. So much for best-laid plans, and all.
Lowering the journal, Paul Peter quips, "That seems to be about all that gets laid around you, judging from the number of unused condoms you've returned to me after one of your 'hot' dates."
"PP, you're unspeakable! That's not idle conversation for a camp fire!"
"Sure it is, Despina. You have a problem here. You know, virginity is NOT like fine wine. It does NOT improve with age."
"Now you sound like my sister and her infernal jokes on that topic."
"Oh, for instance..."
"I don't remeber."
"She watches TV."
"Most people do."
"She said, 'What did the whore say to the virgin?' --'Try it; you'll like it.' She had to explain to me that it was a well-aired line from a current commercial."
"I told Leon, and he had the perfect come-back for her -- another line from another commercial. So, I accused her of only telling me HALF of the joke. 'What did the virgin say to the whore?' -- 'So I did. Thought I would DIE.'"
"Sounds just like good old Leon to me. That guy ought to be here with us. He'd enjoy it immensely."
"Invite him for next summer. If you tell stories all year at lunch, maybe he'll get the itch to travel a bit next summer."
Staring into the campfire, Despina frowns at the unbidden memory.
Some people are so pathetic, they can't even manage to have a romantic interlude in their DREAMS!
Last updated 2/9/02.