Archive for the Chick Shit Category

The new business

Posted in Chick Shit, Fish Shit, reading writing shit on January 19, 2012 by heavymetalspey

Spent a few minutes on the water this weekend with a new gun. The recently-redesigned 7127 from burkheimer. A quick little stick that I believe has dry line written all over it but definitely wasn’t opposed to throwing a 510 skagit. Originally when I had this rod in mind it was purely a summer slammer. Not so much the case

It turns out the little guy has some backbone and wants to fuck around in some winter water. So be it. This is the presentation series of their rods and it is awful prurty. Great cork, the wood and the nickel upgrades sit well and the finish on the rod is something that must be seen to be appreciated. Speysnobs can keep the door on the bus locked, I don’t want a seat… But Jesus…it’s sooo nice.

I’ll do some very serious field testing and report back.




High as the skies

Posted in Chick Shit, reading writing shit, shit the bed in fear on July 27, 2011 by heavymetalspey

Sun is here, clouds said their goodbyes and left. The earth roars, new day. awareness raised, instincts heightened. The sense of it all. How strange that when your eyes are opened, sleeping becomes simple. These days, should not be taken lightly, I gravitate toward realization. Her eyes show like candles on my old road, her breath pushes life into mine. the touch, electric yet as grounded as the earth.

Cocked and loaded

Posted in Booze Shit, Bullshit shit, Chick Shit, reading writing shit on August 12, 2010 by heavymetalspey

Here I am and here it is. Fucking midnight. I will not proof read this for my fear of the inevitable- misspellings, run ons, blathering, nonsense. Jesus my head is gonna hurt in the morning. My idiocy transcends situations. Like a badge I wear on my chest or a hat with the words “too late” written in bold random font like a ransom note with the intention of informing solid situations, women and destinations of my unfortunate time frame. My intentions always good, my judgement, always clouded. The veil of self loathing looms as if one of the clouds mentioned so full of lightning and rain- yet needing my blessing to begin, Never fully soaks. Self pity not withholding my forthright decisions needing to act as a umbrella. Inebriated Ramblings start as just that- ramblings- but my thought process being so that if I cannot come to terms with my stubbornness to inherently judge myself while sober, well then pour me a double. Let the whisky words flow, let the glass accept the offering and before any logic can be obtained let my bottomless pit inhale the martyr. john the baptist once wrote- “if one is thoughtless in his decisions, bash thyself in the nuts”. I’m paraphrasing a tiny bit but I digress. Good women come and go, opportunities will be missed from time to time. Acceptance and betterment is the hammer of the weapon needed to be cocked for the next, but, goddamnit, I may be hesitant to the thought of wasting rounds, Although i suppose the worst death is one with a full armory.