Monday, August 28, 2017

Piercing the Heart of the Eclipse

by  roving reporter  shaun grub 

   Just got back from Idaho on our ten day Great American Eclipse getaway vacation and am ready to watch the final episode of this seventh season of Game of Thrones, and am hoping we can both withstand enough to also watch tonight's breakthrough episode of Twin Peaks.
  
   We ate lunch in the Cafe 55 in Cascade and watched through the window as a stern highway patrolman performed a sobriety test on a young physically fit and apparently perfectly sober young woman.  This was shortly after the sun had been hidden from us all for over two minutes, but whatever the reason, I enjoyed a perfectly cooked cordon bleu chicken sandwich in the cafe, and afterward we bought commemorative Cascade Eclipse T-shirts from a stand on the side of the road.

   We parked on a culdesac while driving around Lake Cascade and followed a trail over the crest of a hill and down into a secluded beach with a nice sandy area and some comfortable rocks. Our boy was happy to wade in and be held in the water there. My wife and I took turns holding him while we swam. He's only four so he might not remember all this but he sure had a great time.

   We stayed three nights in a beautiful spacious ranch-style apartment overlooking the owner's 730 pristine acres of Idaho wilderness, along with the elk, wolves, foxes, coyotes, cows, and cats out there under the scintillating Milky Way. On our penultimate day we drove up to Golden Fork Hot Springs and encountered the best smelling and most relaxing hot springs in Idaho yet.  That was a vacation my wife and I will never forget.







Thursday, August 10, 2017

Shadow of Turmoil



This whole online internet thing's a high lit frontier 
post-literary sensational expanding empire 
of the holistically mapped out sense of terrain 
which, having engulfed us may as well be surfed 
along its unfolding contours as they develop along 
the slipstream of our minds. Yet the entire online 
experience may be relegated to the having been 
brushed by a passing lioness side of things.



Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Count Us Out



Of this game we play online
 where each poison well of ink
slowly draws up their electric plunger
 to dispense the wrath of our collective
withheld guilt and shame at all the love
 spilled and recriminations bound in an
uptight leather jacketed book you can
 only read after having charged the batteries.
No books are about retaining the message intact
 they're bound as a vessel having captured
the intent to strike back at any calamity
 thought up or distilled in the pristine
reservoirs of refreshing wellsprings