Three. Is the magic number. Ask Posdnuos. Ask Trugoy. Can’t, bc he’s dead. So you better ask somebody.

By day three the vacation is out of our systems. By day three I start to get into the restorative reality of the rigorous routine. Really.

It’s “chilly AF” and wet in the morning. Full Monty full disclosure, I’m fully naked in the tent bc it was “hot AF” and wet LAST night. Take it ease: we’re all naked under our clothes. Last night I sandman’d out so hard during thunderclap and hard rains. Like lights out. Now I’m awake. Don the rain jacket and shorts and I’m out of the tent… shivering. I get the fuck back in the fucking tent. Whew. Where the hell did this come from. I didn’t even bring a single pair of pants to the heatwave party up in here, up in here. I did however bring this 20°-rated sleeping bag with me, it comes on every long ride no matter the forecast. Thats Fahrenheit degrees. Not Celsius. Nor Kelvin. Shit, 20° Kelvin is just crazy. Anyhoo, this sleeping bag I got… Works fine just to lay on top of or use as more of a pillow. Shoutout to whatever brand that doesn’t pay me in times like this. I’d say this is right now right now. But right then right then, I was just trying to get warm. I couldn’t possibly be typing this.

So um yeah. Fast forward to rn rn — me seated on this shady bench along the Thousand Islands Parkway. It’s got a separated bike path alongside the motored way. You people stay over there. Whoa. This bench is also a cemetery. Chads doing yoga far enough away from me that I’m not irritated. He looks goofy as fuck. Chad’s the one ten years older doing youthful shit but I’m over here hanging with the dead. Right here. Right now. Thai cemetery tho. Buried here. Here lies. All that. Founder of the entire township, Billa La Rue (aka William, and yes that’s Billa and not Billy), his wife Abigail and 6 of their 9 children, all of whom seem to have died before their parents, ranging in lifespan from 1 month and 20 days to 17 years 6 days. Fortunately for me, you and everyone else, one of his daughters live long enough to erect this placquard at this private dead body plot. Rough going back then. Sometimes rough going in the present day. My legs hurt a little less. I stretch my hammies. Now Chad and I are both younger. Two Yutes, two whhat?.

Day Trois and J Dilla, Danny Brown, and The White Stripes occupy my oculars, obviously.

Chad comments on his past day three experiences. I don’t prompt it whatsoever and he doesn’t see drafts of my scribbling. I got the Chadster into this long ride shit back in the year of the Panda 2020, when a crew of four of us headed out along the Erie Canal. Now, we’re on our 4th version together. He’s getting good at it; don’t ever tell him. He’s telling me how he always starts to feel good on day three. His body starts responding to the demands he’s puts on it after the second sleep. Maybe it’s the yoga. Maybe it’s magic.

One snake that was way too big to NOT be dangerous. One sunflower with a head twice as big as my head. I count only 999 islands and receive zero ounces/grams of the disgusting salad dressing. I’d ask for my money back then again I’m not paying much. Rather nothing. I’m good with that. The views are spectacular. I see a lot of Canada Proud signs. Seems like the sentiment is all in response to DJT’s dumbfuckery. It’s all political theatre. A fucking joke, two “sides” and North American politics, keeping everyone in place. All sides of it. In a culture and class war, I’m with Mexico and the zapatistas. Just to be clear.

Dia Tres and showering is no longer missed. Comfort is gone. Sleeping outside becomes natural…

…Hardest of lefts accompanied by screeching tire sound effects and we’ve Time Banditted up to me in this downtown Kingston Holiday Inn pool. Soaking the parts. So much for all that day three stuff. Laugh. Out. Loud. Bee. Tee. Dubs: that’s still Kingston Ontario, not New York nor Jamaica. There’s probably a Kingston in England and/or Australia too, so not definitely there either. I really feel the need to be specific cuz you know, sometimes when one time travels, one actually time-space travels. But yeah, I’m in this pool. In this hotel. Coolin’. Chillin’. Maxin’. Relaxin’. All the things 90 rappers do, except the ls are the actual iterations. Just Me, Myself, and I.