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Full of Hot Air

Two blogs I follow gave me balloon pictures this weekend–the closest I’ve come to divine inspiration in a while. Who am I to sass the gods of inspiration?  From the deep back days of film, some people I used to know, and some balloons.

Driggs, Idaho July 4, 1991

Old Scans_551

Old Scans_552

By JunkChuck

Native, Militant Westsylvanian (the first last best place), laborer, gardener, and literary hobbyist (if by literary you mean "hack"). I've had a bunch of different blogs, probably four, due to a recurring compulsion to start over. This incarnation owes to a desire to dredge up the best entries of the worst little book of hand-scrawled poems I could ever dream of writing, salvageable excerpts from fiction both in progress and long-abandoned. and a smattering of whatever the hell seems to fit at any particular moment. At first blush, I was here just to focus on old, terrible verse, but I reserve the right to include...anything. Maybe everything, certainly my love of pulp novels, growing garlic, the Pittsburgh Steelers and howling at the moon--both figuratively and, on rare occasions, literally.

7 replies on “Full of Hot Air”

Old photos are most of what I’ve got–I haven’t had a working camera for a while, and got out of the habit of taking photos even before that. Oh, there were still photos, but mostly with family in them and I don’t want a lot of that here, so it’s old photos or nuthin. For a while. There’s a new camera on the shopping list….

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This was an awesome night–a minor league baseball game and fireworks in Idaho Falls in the evening, then we slept in this field over night in Driggs. In the morning, dozens of balloons were filling all around us. We ran around from balloon to balloon, helping out by holding ropes while mugging for photos, then it was all you can eat pancakes from the volunteer fire department.

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