getting firewood in shawnigan: the nicest rednecks you’ll ever meet, and type o negative is still the best

i’ve spent the last two days getting firewood on a mountain west of shawnigan lake. as the crow flies, it’s probably only about 10 km from my house but the access is through glenora, near duncan, and then along 30 minutes of logging roads. it’s been a neat experience.

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i was working on the logged spot on the right of the mountain in the back.

there were tons of characters out there, scrounging firewood just like me. they’re rednecks, for sure, but they are all so fucking nice. old rednecks, young rednecks, 4×4 enthusiast rednecks, family rednecks, loner rednecks, etc, and they were all real daisies. they all waved or nodded or engaged in friendly conversation or offered to help get some wood out. i’ve been really surprised and pleased because i expected surly “this is my spot, go somewhere else” attitudes from them. there must be some of those up there but i haven’t seen them yet in two dayst. i’ve noticed the same thing about nice rednecks in longshoring. it seems that a few rednecks really just give the others a bad rap. or maybe we have super nice hippie rednecks out here on the coast.

also, i’ve been listening to lots of type o negative this week and i still love type o as much as ever.

“colder and darker than their icelandic homeland”

one of my fave songs of theirs is ‘green man’ off of october rust and today i paid special notice to these lyrics from it

winter’s breath of filthy snow
befrosted paths to the unknown
have my lips turned true purple?
life is coming to an end
so says me, me wiccan friend
nature coming full circle

because they parallel what i have mentioned on here a few times about death being an intrinsic part of life, and because they seem to wholly embrace death like i feel it deserves to be. and it’s just a fucking awesome, wicked song.

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