Drunk as a Monk

Me and Butterfly bached it New Years Eve,...Auld Lang and all that.

2 Weeks Flying high

The open road.

Ron thought I should get off the dash but there was good sun there.

I'm with the ticket for Chambord Castle and the toll booth ticket for the highway. It was 13 Euros for the highway between Paris and Chambord. The arrows point at me but do I look like someone with pockets?

Ron didn't take a picture of us at our trip there. Ah well, maybe we can photoshop ourselves in later.


Look down, way down. It's Paris, Ron.


Here I am on the flight looking with our trajectory. Back to Montreal. What do you mean Montreal's not in the picture? Why didn't you say say scooch over?


See?

Hitting the Beaches

It's 27 degrees but my little bud still won't come out of his Rhino suit but that's fine. We love him just the same, don't we?

Touring

Goofing off by the river with Ron we nearly got beaned by the nuts when the wind got up.


Look Man, I can balance an acorn on my nose.

(Never mind his get up. Ron's got a Dali complex going on about Rhinos.)


It was pretty quiet for a while but while Ron was trying to get my picture with this waterfall, I just about got tore to bits.

This was just before I was eaten, nearly. There was this huge white dog that ran toward me and nearly snatched me while my back was turned.

Where's Ron get off to? Taking cover naturally.



Thanks for getting my back man.


It makes the Metro and its pickpockets seem tame by comparison. Mother Nature has PMS, I tell ya.

Never a quiet moment for long. Especially when guitars are cheap and accessible. There are some buskers singing the trains that make a good case for sitting mute with a cup instead of working for the centimes, I tell ya.

Leaf Me Be

Forget me. I'll just lay here, swooned, being covered over by autumn, left to rot beneath the coming snow.


Ok, I'm over that now. Come sit with me. I've got an apple for your eye.

Single Monk Looking for Cellmate

Dreaming of a romantic partner for a cruise?


We could go back to Staten Island, me and you.


Sit out by the point in Central Park, go up to that gazebo.


Look over the water and see what that sparks.


We could share some nibbles on a bench.

Sound good? I'm your monk.

Sky on my Shoulders

I'd grab some farm-time to sow some wild oats, but there's so much competition from the domestically-grown oats. Sigh.