Sunday, October 08, 2006
Dogs of paw & Cuillin steep, wild of life & unquiet sleep...guardian of they boggy roll, & things in tins & scents in soil. Ragged Quasar, base camp brawler...fireside farter, toothy yawner...To share one's days with a doss-bag fidget, bothy boss, & hairy midget...
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Oh...I won't recite the whole thing, we made it up on a trundling jolly back to the village, chased under a wild sky & airborne autumn leaves beyond the black Coire. It's here, scribbled onto a torn flag of note-paper, spattered with sump oil. Another line tamed, an awesome holdless friction puzzle of foot stompin' full acrobatic bhoona & a classy sandbag at V11'ish, for the anal accountants...Yet again, a tired dug, swift high thief of the comfiest suburban niches & snarling cushion herder. To look at the boy gone sparko, you'd think he'd been redpointing all day while I ate grass & pished on rocks. I guess it must be a strain being black & white all your life, but at least I don't have to desaturate him when I'm plooterin' with the monochromatic digi tools aye...
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posted by ※Sgian Dubh ※ at 8:32 PM | 
2 Comments:
At 10/08/2006 11:40 PM, 
Helenâ
At 10/09/2006 1:23 PM, ※Sgian Dubh ※â
They Highland Anal Accountants of Grading or 'They Auld HAGs' as Sandy calls them for short, no to be confused with they old SH.A.A.G.s, The Skye & Highlands Alcoholics Anonymous Groups, which collapsed [along wi the coordinator] in its first Skye meeting when Domhnull Murdo, being an honest sorta chappie, stood straight up & directly told them his name - Well for them other boys:
Far an taine ‘n abhainn, ‘s ann as mò a fuaim, agus an nì chì na big, ‘s e nì na big.
Rusty would translate for you I'm sure, if you can tear him away from that over-sexed DAMART catalogue for more than a yews breath..
:D