Trench warfare.
Above us it loomed, its great bulk blocking the early afternoon sun. Oh, foul it was, with a stench that recalled many a dormitory morning back at S.U.N.Y. New Paltz (Gaige Hall). Queasy.... so queasy... Oh, Jeebus.... my mistake, friends, sorry. I didn't know I was posting that last bit. Just getting a bit ahead of myself, that's all - some of my contemporaneous impressions during the strange events that befell us this week, as we made our way westward along the N.Y. State Barge Canal (successor to the Erie Canal) towards the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill, our adopted home (squat house). Some of you (or perhaps all of you) may remember our decision to surreptitiously board a riverboat, which had obligingly docked near the spot where we had made our precipitous exit from the Thruway. Not the wisest decision, as it turned out. Ever seen Ben-Hur ? Not the chariot race - the part where the guy is counting cadence below decks with a big drum. Well, we were surprised to find that fuc...