Silverlined segments

I like to separate my life into silver lined segments.

Its the easiest way to remember all of the stupid and crazy shit that's gone down. (what I can remember of it that is, there's a lot)

Hanging out with so many different groups of people that do so many different things, it all blends together and gets hard to remember.

Up until 4 am, out in the streets of Boston with people I'd just met earlier that night

nowhere to be. No objective. Just going with the flow.

sitting on the sea wall watching the sunrise over the waters edge at the beach.

shades of a radiant pink giving way to deep reds, then orange mixing in followed by the giant yellow orb cresting over the water.

A funeral precession shotgun seat in the hearse.

Warren Zevon cries out the chorus to "Werewolves of London" off the "Excitable Boy" album on the radio.

The day is march 7th the year is 2013 the time is 2:16 pm

Numb. In denial. I sat Quietly, my sunglasses hiding the emptiness in my eyes.

My birthday A week prior, the day after he was rushed to the hospital.

I fucking hate my birthday.

Just don't celebrate it on the day, a spot that will never heal.

Generational Snap-On tools passed down that hurt to even look at.

A constant reminder even to this day as I use them to masterfully assemble the trucks rolling through my shop.

You never forget the first person you lose that meant something to you.

A Persistent Empty Feeling.

Walking through an abandoned town. Buildings and houses long derelict. Though electricity still fills certain windows and entry ways.

A steam system connected by tunnels run through a large majority of the area. Our only way to evade the security sparsely scattered throughout. We knew them like the backs of our hands. Even without flashlights.

Joining the 200 club in a Redeye jailbreak I somehow ended up behind the wheel of.

I shouldn't be trusted with anything that goes above 40 mph.

A lone quarry in the woods, Filled to the brim with water. The old sentinel site.

just far enough off the walking trail, nobody knew we were out there having the time of our lives.

Walking down the street and pulling out my cellphone, the cracked screen reads 12:50 AM, 4 degrees F. 2nd coldest night of that year, middle of nowhere Vermont with Murph by my side sharing a blunt I had struggled to roll up in the bitter windchill.

We didn't mind the cold.

At least I didn't, it was the last thing on my mind in that moment.

A patch of land that outcropped into a small pond. A single tree and pile of ash sit near the end of the Peninsula. At night the area was open enough that moonlight would flood the area in a twilight glow. A spot a friend had shown me while we were playing in the woods one day.

It would become our hang out.

This was the place that would eventually become known as "Rodknock"

For the foreseeable future that's where we would all meet after school, and then later on work.

Didn't matter if it was 2 degrees outside and everything was frozen solid including your fingers or It was 90 with high humidity while we desperately tried to avoid the various mud wasp nests that peppered the area.

Out at Rodknock is where you would find us.

We grew and time passed. The only things that changed was our mode of transport out there and how dangerous the stupid shit we were doing was.

The plan was the same every time. Party, hang out, have fun

I felt at home there

Though I separate my life into segments, Rodknock wasn't just a segment.

No matter how far away I went, whatever interesting people I hung out with, Whatever crazy shit I did.

We always ended up at a fire under that tree overlooking the water. The area enveloped in a warm glow from pile of sticks and logs we would steal from the beaver dams.

Fuck beavers. though I understand they fill an essential roll in the ecosystem out in those woods, THERE WERE SO. FUCKING. MANY. Easily a hundred of those little fuckers. all they know is "chew tree" and "build dam". sometimes we would go out riding the quads then come back the next day and all the trails would be flooded. completely unrideable. so we took matters into our own hands.

only a couple Lbs of Tannerite is MORE then enough power to decimate a beaver dam holding back ~8 feet of water.

separated from civilization by 2.3 miles of trails transitioning from rocky dirt to soupy mud and one set of powerlines.

Right were I Belong.

Tonight would be no different I thought.

Something felt different though.

That empty feeling.

Not feeling quite as empty

Didn't make sense.

I had only had one drink.

It usually took a couple more then one....

No time to think about that in the moment though

Still have pangs of Regret to this day.

Nothing can change the past.