So, mdguy, you read every blog that comes down the pike or what? *laughs* However, you Do have a point, a pic is worth a thousand words, after all...

Now whether that pic is worth the Right thousand words or not is still up for grabs. *grins*

Okay, so, I've been doing online stuff for a little over ten years now, and way back when I gave up on the idea of some sort of anonymous handle and just opted to use my real name. Torbjon is rather unique, funky, and has the advantage of being pretty much always available. I don't have a bank account or credit card, and if anyone wants to steal my identity they are more than welcome to my debts *shrugs*

Also, in places like this, it seems rather silly to me to tag the name Bob onto your picture when your name is Bill... friends, family and co-workers are Going to Know that that pic is You, and everybody else is a stranger so who cares about them, right?

To each his own.

Anyway, I mention alla that because I see we can add links and pics to our blog postings. Cool.

And since I'm way too lazy to resize and photobucket some shots just to pretend to be quasi anonymous and make sure the pic sizes don't mess with the blog layout, and just because inserting some shots I have up on my site would give anybody with half a brain a link back to my site, I'm just gonna toss some links out there (basically just because I'm a narcissists sob and Love site traffic *smirks*)

so, this be me:

[url]http://www.torbtown.com[/url]

Now then, the reason I did alla that was so that I could do the following for mdguy, 'cause dude? Basically your preconceptions about Alaska are more or less correct.

This was my view from work: (mountains)

[url]http://www.torbtown.com/PSG/psg043.htm[/url]

The same mountain with a light dusting of snow:

[url]http://www.torbtown.com/PSG/psg091.htm[/url]

Rush hour traffic on a winter day:

[url]http://www.torbtown.com/PSG/psg010.htm[/url]

You may think a winter day was 'cold' but in general even dead of winter was warmer than where I worked. For my last seven years on the rock I worked in what I lovingly call The Fridge. We kept the fridge at -20 C (-4F) and the Blast Freezers ran even colder (usually -60C).

This was my home for many thousands of hours:

[url]http://www.torbtown.com/PSG/psg097.htm[/url]

I got a real Love/Hate relationship with the fridge... more love than hate, to be sure, but Man, what a harsh environment *shudders* Staying in there all day was Not the problem. No. In fact, once you got over the initial Cold it was actually really groovy... quiet, peaceful, private, and some of the most Beautiful crystals I've ever seen in my life *dreamy*

Naw, staying IN was easy, as this picture shows, I didn't wear much in the way of 'protective clothing':

[url]http://www.torbtown.com/PSG/psg153.htm[/url]

It was the coming OUT of the fridge that would kill ya. Every smashed finger, whacked knee, bumped elbow that was all deliciously comfortably numb would start to thaw and ache big time. Finger and toe nails would just Explode burning pins and needles frostbite, and alla those fluids that had been frozen (like, say, snot and alla the ice that built up on yer face from exhaling) would melt and gush and drip...

You'd also get real stoooopid when you came out...

You know how superconductors work better frozen? Ya, well, I think the human body is the same way. Synapses and nerves just work Better when frozen solid.

When I wasn't livin' in the fridge, I lived here: (cabin)

[url]http://www.torbtown.com/PSG/psg008.htm[/url]

The little red one on the far right was me for a while, and that was smack dab in the middle of high population density urban sprawl *laughs*

As far as wild life goes, there were indeed elk on the island, but I never saw one...

Lotta whales in the narrows:

[url]http://www.torbtown.com/PSG/psg082.htm[/url]

and bald eagles all over the place:

[url]http://www.torbtown.com/PSG/psg018.htm[/url]

Bear, both griz and black, stories but no pics of those, sea lions too... they'd jump up outta the water and chase folks around the dock *grins* They may be less than graceful on dry land but still not something you wanna mess with.

So mdguy, for the most part your expectations of The Last Frontier are more less right on the money.

My gig with the city ain't so much The City, but rather the people... They just ain't alla that Friendly, ya know? For some reason when populations reach a certain density folks just sorta shut down and isolate themselves *sighs*

Honestly? What's the point in livin' next to alla these people if no one will take the time to say Howdy, or, worse yet, give you a dirty look and act like yer gonna hit them up for money if you should (god forbid) take the time to say Hi to them? blah. It's depressing.

Not enough folks on the one island so I moved to another island fulla people only here is worse than there as far as social interaction goes.

Back on the rock the bulk of my social intercourse was via the internet... and here I am in one of the biggest and most "civilized" cities in america and it's still the same...

There's Gotta be a fortune cookie lesson there somewhere *laughs*

Right now the munchkin is tellin' me it's time to stop typing and go do something a bit less boring...

soooo, I gotta go

rock on

So this is the second one of these. So far so good

It's 4:20 in the afternoon in my part of the world. Nice time of day. For those of you who don't know what that means, don't worry about it, you'll pick it up sooner or later.

As you may recall, before moving to New York I lived on a rock in Alaska. A rock. Fulla guys. In the middle of Nowhere.

Along with there not being enough women on the island, there also wasn't enough grass on the island. There would be dry spells and those spells where harsh on everybody. I've tried (more than once) to be an alcoholic, but it just doesn't suit me. I don't react well to booze. Grass suits me though. I'm not one of those people who smokes a joint and then drool their sorry ass into the sofa for the rest of the day. I actually seem to be rather articulate and productive and safe under the influence of that particular vice *shrugs* Well, I got good grades in school and I walked away from ten years of high risk employment with alla my fingers and toes intact whereas some of my comrades Didn't (hangovers, *tsk tsk* they'll gitcha every time)

Not an advocate for NORMAL here, wouldn't dream of pushing the crap off onto anybody (especially kids) but for ME it's the beer of choice *shrugs* Got a problem with that then take a hike.

The stuff has been a part of my life in some way since I can remember. I am, after all, a product of the sixties, ya know? It's always been around no matter where I went, and I've been to some pretty funky places, lemme tell ya. I thought rock in Alaska was going to be BAD, but it wasn't. Sure, there were dry spells from time to time, they always seem to last forever when you're In one, but they never lasted more than a few months and it's Good to dry out from time to time...

I thought moving to New York was going to be the cats meow. People! Chicks!! Pot delivered to your door 24/7!!! *bursts out laughing!* Ya, well, Maybe if you're a rock star or something. Old Poor White Guy? Forget it. Kids here won't even give me the time of day, and the adults aren't much better *sighs* I would have to say that the lack of grass has probably been the single most depressing thing about being here these past seven years.

YES, having my wife tell me she no longer wants to be with me was Incredibly Depressing, but that was just one bombshell and we are working past that in a healthy way...

No, the lack of grass thing is perpetual. Bareable when you're broke (which is most of the time) Frustrating as all hell on those rare occasions when you have a few coins to rub together and No One will talk to you *sighs*

Then there's the moving thing... since moving here I've lived in Brooklyn, Manhattan, a little town up the Hudson called Cold Spring, Queens, and now I'm across the river in some place called Guttenberg (what were they Thinking? What, was this place a meat house way back when or something?) Right about the time I start to settle into a neighborhood and the locals start to recognize me and realize that I'm just a 'mostly harmless' dude, Whamo, we move and once again I'm the new kid in town *sighs*

So it goes, ey?

*sip*

High octane coffee, mmmm, gotta love it.

I see I got a couple of comments to fist caffinated babble fest. Too cool, thanks! Kinda shocked to see that folks actually Read these things though.... I mean, if it's a choice between lookin' at sexy pictures or reading boring dribble, well... Not to be rude or anything, but it was the pictures that sucked me in *laughs* Doubt I'll be posting any of those... Not that I'm ashamed of my body or anything, and I certainly DO enjoy looking and fully understand that others may share in that joy, it's just that, well, "don't judge a book by its cover", ya know? When it gets down to the nitty gritty what Really turns me on is the stuff on the inside. *shrugs*

Besides, a pic of a drop dead gorgeous hunk like me would probably suck in a Lotta requests from lame people, which I just don't have time for.... Think I'd rather chat with someone who has a bit of a brain and an attention span longer than my three year old daughter.

Besides, I'm in no hurry.

Horny? ya, Hurry? naw..

*ponders*

Not a lot in this one other than the fact that I like to inhale from time to time, huh? *shrugs* Sorry 'bout that. Tune in next time, gods only know what I'll write then ('cause I sure as hell don't *grins*)

rock on

Ten years ago I lived on a rock in Alaska. Lotta guys, lotta fish, not a lotta women. Needless to say, I was getting more than a little lonely. Winter of '97 I got my first computer, internet access (a real biggy for the rock, dial up, 56K modems, woo hoo!) and now had a cheap link to the outside world.

That winter was Awesome. Long dark night, no work scheduled, and
nothing to do but meet people online, chat, make friends... it was great.

But, Subject To Change is the only rule that never changes. The sun came back, the fish started to fornicate, that was that, play time was Over.

However, despite the winter of describing my life to my new online friends, they still didn't get the chaos of my world or the crazy hours I was working. What was a wink of an eye to me was some weeks for them. I got home after a stint of herring, checked my email, and freeked. Hundreds of letters from dozens of people: Are You Okay? What Happened? Where Are You? Are You Mad At Me? and so on...

I only had a couple of days of R&R before I had to get back to the machine, no where near enough time to reply adequately to everybody... That's when the Lazies where born. One generic email to all my friends with the words "Lazy (fill in the blank)" in the subject line so they would know that I was still alive, it was a generic email, not to them personally, and that they didn't have to read it or even reply... just a little Blip from up north so folks would know I was still kickin'...

Took a while for me to find my voice and a style that suited me, but I found it. Writing Lazies became a near daily gig for me, very relaxing, very therapeutic, very helpful... I'd just write whatever popped into my pointy little head, slice of soul, slice of life, a dissertation on the art of glazing salmon, Baitboys new toy, my date with the Sunshine Girl,anything.

Some folks on the island didn't care too much for me broadcasting my life over the internet... The rest of the world, however, seemed to really dig it. It wasn't long before they began to forward my crap onto their friends and family, and they to theirs...

Then one day total strangers started sending me emails: "Hi, you don't know me, but, so and so has been forwarding your Lazies to me and I was just wondering if you could add me to your mailing list" kinda thing.

At first that Really freeked me out... my list I could handle... Total Strangers? *shudders* Creepy. But I added them to the list and just kept right on writing. After a while, the weirdness of strangers asking me for junk became rather common place and I began to add them to the list without so much as batting an eye.

My wife was one of those people. Some chick in NYC, the daughter of a friend of a friend of a family member. She was on the list for a while before we ever actually communicated with each other. I let the world know that I needed a vacation from the rock, that I needed to see some people and do some stuff before yet another salmon season stole my soul for the summer and I grew another year older with virtually nothing to show for it...

Replies came in... Come Visit! And they were from folks I would have liked to have visited, too... only they were in Nowhere Montana, Nowhere Colorado, Nowhere Lower 48 Wilderness...

Nice offers if you happen to be a city freek. Not too tempting if you happen to live in the Last Frontier. People, yes. More wilderness? No.

A chick in Italy offered me a patch of ground to camp out on, and the chick from NYC offered me a piece of floor in a Brooklyn apartment to crash out on....

It was a tough call, but I'd already spent a lot of time in Italy, and had never been to NYC, so I chose the groovy girl from the Big Apple.

It was a great trip. Two weeks of insane heat, man made mountains that touched the sky, more people in one minute than I had seen in five years... and, of course, the groovy girl.

We fell in love.

I went back to the rock, gave notice, trained my replacement, sold my house... try as I might, I couldn't even finish out the season I was so anxious to get back to the city and her. Late August of 2000 I split the rock and have not been back since.

Winter Solstice of 2001 we got married.

April of 2004 we had a daughter.

Shortly after she was born my wife informed me that she wasn't too happy with things and wanted out of our marriage.

Subject To Change is the only rule that never changes.

We haven't signed papers yet, but the rings are off, we are separated and living in a rather... unique? odd? freeky? we are living in a less than normal relationship.

She's the breadwinner in the family, has a nice career, (which, sadly, includes incredibly long hours away from home) and has a private life outside of the home. She dates, and I believe she has someone very special to her in her life now... I hope so. She's a good person and deserves some good people.

I spend the days taking care of our daughter and I spend my nights sleeping alone in the basement...

Our daughter is three years old now, which means I spend the bulk of my time doing kid stuff. I meet a lot of other parents, but so far no one I can, or would even want to play a game of cribbage with, chat with (other than at the playground) hang out with... besides, they are all in good, solid relationships with kids and don't really have any time to spare for an old bozoboy like me, you know?

So here I am, trolling.

I know a lot of people think of 'trolling' as an internet term. It's not. It's a style of fishing. Basically, you tie a hook to a line, bait it, and toss it off the back of the boat, then putt putt around in the water until Something snags the bait. Troll fish tend to be the best (as opposed to Net fish) They don't get beat to death, they are treated with kid gloves, as soon as they are caught they are cleaned and iced and carefully stored... (Net fish sit in the hold of the boat for some time before they are cleaned) In short, if you like fish, Trolls are where it's at.

So ya, I'm trolling for chicks, but I'm not searching for anything specific.. this is uncharted waters for me, I don't have a clue how this works or who is out there.

I will tell you the same thing I told my (now ex) wife oh so many years ago now.
Yes, I'm trolling. I have a little boat and a strong line. I think my bait is pretty groovy (but how would I know?)

However, there's no hooks. I'm not going to drag anybody out of their element and do mean things to them. If somebody wants to hop into my boat and putt around with me for a while, great. If they want to hop out again and get back into that cool, clean water where they belong, that's cool too.

I'm in no hurry. Lonely? Yes. Desperate? No. Good things are worth waiting for.


Until next time

Rock On