One time in Reno I was in a manic mood, so I kind of broke up with my girlfriend and went climbing on dangerous rocks at Donner Pass. I was clambering over the granite outcrops in the light of a nearly-full moon, in the middle of the night, and I was wearing flip-flops. I could have slipped and fallen and died, and someone would have found me with crows pecking out my eyeballs.
My first rock concert was when I saw Rush in Sacramento. I had just started dating the future Mrs. Fish, but I had previously promised my formerly-not-quite-girlfriend Lisa that I would take her. Lisa and I went with another couple, who were somewhat confused about our relationship status. We had a great time, but we were a little scared of a bear-like, drunk Rush fan who started screaming the lyrics to “The Trees” as we were walking by. I made it up to Mrs. Fish by taking her to a Rush concert two years later; she merely tolerated it.
When I was young, and playing outside to hide from everyone, I used to throw rocks. I threw a lot of rocks. One of my favorite targets was a dead tree in the forest, and I would throw rocks at one particular branch trying to break it off. I hit the branch numerous times, but I never could break it. I also threw rocks at an electrical transformer right in front of our house. I wanted to hit the insulator and break it so the power line would come into contact with the metal transformer and explode it, I guess. Explosions are awesome.
During the Manic Las Vegas road trip of 2004, I wanted to find obsidian. I found a place called Obsidian Dome in the Inyo National Forest, and collected some fine samples. I tried to break the rock to make a sharp edge for hunting like the Native Americans, but all I did is smash my finger. I still have the rocks, in a box in the garage.
I was at work early Saturday morning. To make the time go faster, I was listening to some progressive rock/metal on Youtube. It was a band called Magic Pie out of Norway. Great music, but you have to like that style.
One of the best times when I was a kid was when we made homemade ice cream. You mix the cream in the center pail, then pour ice and rock salt in the tub, then start turning the crank for a half hour. Pineapple was my absolute favorite, but one of A-mom’s friends always ruined my idea by suggesting we use walnuts or maple flavor. Later, I found out there were ice-cream makers with electric motors, which did not require manual labor to earn the treat.
There is this dopey guy at work who has about a dozen cliché phrases he says all the time. One of my (least) favorites is “Let’s rock it out, bro!” He also says things like “kegger, baby, double kegger” and “I’m livin’ the dream, baby.” Sometimes he even howls, as in “owwoooo!” This is a forty-something professional in an office environment, and he acts like a 19-year-old frat boy. Very irritating.
Finally: my picture of Lembert Dome, a very large outcrop of granite in the Tuolumne Meadows area of Yosemite National Park. If you’re ever in the neighborhood, it’s at 37.880435, -119.348982.