On the drive to the beach we laughed about the size of our campfire we would have since we all had axes and a chainsaw. Rene bucked the driftwood while Will and I split the chunks and we all high fived over the smell of fresh cut cedar. It was a late rainy evening so we needed the water proof red cedar and we only had yellow. 45 minutes of fire building techniques and we still didn't have anything hot. So I poured some gas on the tiny flame to speed things up but the fire crawled up the fumes into the jerry can and I threw the blaze. With no threat of an explosion, I hung my head at the melodramatic scene of red plastic melting and laughed. That's when Will placed the logs around the flame and built the second largest fire ever.
I remember this day, clear as all hell, as one of the gloomiest days of living on my own. I didn't find a new place to live until the evening I moved out of the Cambie House. It was with a bunch of stoners I didn't know, and the feeling was too familiar. Later that week, Ian called me up to go crabbing with the boys. This is them at the bow of the boat, going full speed. These guys were having a riot pulling up crabs, but I just couldn't kick it. I sat in the back and observed. I remember intentionally putting my finger in the frame to make this image look gloomier.
Circa, 2011 | London Drugs 35mm film | Thrift store point & shoot camera
When will you climb out of me?