a little bit jealous

Damn. I hate it when someone is a free-travelling dissident poet who makes socio-political commentary whilst husking for monster salmon in the great blue off Alaska ... yeah, there is another blogger whose writing I can't stop perving on.

Not with a (cheeky ode to Charles Bukowski) entry like this:

I lost my friend today,
packed
a life and
untold torment
in his father's GI bag.
He
left me
a bottle of cheap rum
and Bukowski.
I Would have preferred
bye.

Aaron Maier left travelling around Africa/Eruope for a return to the USofA ... and right now is on a fishing boat somewhere-Alaska.

This is how he describes a moment in his job:

The five minutes have now passed and I am wearing stiff green hip waiters in three feet of 34 degree water surrounded by ten thousand pounds of gourmet rigor mortis. The acrid locker room smell has been replaced by the foamy broth of death and fish cum in which I am now wading. I flail away blindly with a plastic shovel pushing your dinner into a pulsing vacuum tube sucking the stiff corpses by the thousands one rung up the food chain.

A mammoth chum salmons writhes spastically in the blood and froth of a spawning journey gone horribly wrong. I admire his strength. I admire the beauty of his life cycle returning to trickling stream of his birth. I stand in awe of this amazing fish and bludgeon it on the head with the handle of my shovel. There is not opportunity for contemplation while wading in a pool of death. Ask Dick Cheney. He can tell you this.

Now you know what I mean.