Wednesday, July 18, 2012

The horror, the horror of Dagness.

When my wife finally couldn't stand any more and left to try to recover her life from my poor husbandry, as it were, she must have decided to think long and hard about the next man she would marry. She stayed single a long time, finally choosing for her new husband a man very much unlike me, a man who was for her a solid professional in the medical business, a surgeon, rather than a potential serial killer like me. Or something.... Regardless, the girl married the right kind of man next time round, stable, middle class, home-bound, and decent. For Christmas he went into the garage and shot himself in the head. Of course, he died instantly.

My best gal has terrible luck with husbands, no fault of hers. I think I must have been a pretty terrible husband to drive away such a lovely girl. I am, however, a far cry better than the last guy she married.

I had news recently, sort of because I've been traveling in the Amazon for a while and have been out of touch with the rest of the world, from what passes in my life as family. I'm the one who is, to my surprise, not family. The others stick together, there being names I know not of, kids and kids of kids I don't know even of. But my news is that for my birthday the gods gave me a wonderful present: my father had a massive stroke that killed him a week or so later. If that gloating makes me seem like a second rate prick, consider why I might be so. I'm as rotten a man sometimes, though not so often, as my father, a totally rotten piece so crap. But, again, bad as I might be, I'm still alive. I hope to write more about my time and doings, now again in the Amazon, as I reach the city of Iquitos and perhaps from there continue ever deeper into the mystery of the jungle. Till then, looking into the Heart of Dagness  requires some dance music to make it fun. Click the link and dance it up. You won't live forever.

I'm on my way to the riverfront to catch my boat for  another week of sailing in the jungle. Will write again when I land on dry-- mud...

Into the heart of Dagness....


¨The ho-ho-ho-rror,¨ he laughed.

A gentle reminder that my book, An Occasional Walker, is available at the link here:

And here are some reviews and comments on said book: