Hope.

I gave you my heart. There is nothing left for me to give. At least, nothing left in this chapter.

I will allow this place to remain, to be swallowed into the depths of the web. I said this project has been a failure, but that is a lie. I have come to grips with the world, with an understanding that my reality is just dreams, dreams not based upon anything tangible.

The time has come to move onto different things, new projects. I will let you know what these projects are when they become concrete. But not here. Oh no, never again here.

I don't know if I have another year in me.

As the year comes to an end, I am left with feelings of resentment. I created this blog as an effort to drum up some business for my guide service, yet the phone remains quiet, the fly rods remain unused, and I don't know if any bit of hope remains.

I cannot even begin to understand why no one wants to fish with me. All the time, I see guides connecting happy fishermen with their quarry on the river. What do these people have that I cannot offer?

This has been another year lost and alone.

Merry Christmas.

I hope everyone's Christmas is filled with joy and happiness.

Mine will be spent sitting alone in a cold apartment.

This rod failed me.

I have a Winston BIIx 8'6" 5 weight that I would like to trade for some kind of 6 weight, 9' or greater.



The rod is lightly used and in good condition. The sock is a bit dirty from a run-in with some mud, but it has been ran through the wash since this photo. There are still a few stains on it.

The rod itself is horrible. I don't know why I wasted money on this rod. I paid full price, of course, since no companies take me seriously enough to add me to their prostaff (even though I am a guide). I guess the chances are good my dislike for this rod could be greatly contributed to operator error. Still, I need to get rid of it.

Please contact Emo Guide Service if you are interested in a trade.

Remember when we were young.

Fishing wasn't always a priority. Circling a virtual track in a virtual cart with a group of friends was time well spent, as good as any day on the water. Life is simple when all you have to fret over is crossing a finish line before your friends.



Sometimes I think that I wasn't always like this.

"The finish line
is just around the bend
I'll pause this game
so our love will never end"

I don't know if my friends lost me or if I lost them, but I can no longer see them. I don't even know if the finish line still lies ahead...

Informational video.

I wish I could cast like this. :(

Don't be hurt, I have never been a very good friend.

In Kindergarten, one child in the class got to stay awake during nap time. At the end of nap time, this lucky kid would select the quietest kid in class who would receive a special sticker.

I really wanted one of those stickers, so I made a deal with little Timmy. When it was his turn to be the nap monitor he would select me as the quietest little guy; when my turn arrived I would return the favor and select him for the sticker. I was so happy when I got that sticker!

Then, not too long later, my turn to pick the quietest little kid arrived. I walked around and made sure all the little nappers were quiet. Then, it came time to select the quietest little kiddie. Little Timmy was looking at me in anticipation, knowing that he was going to receive the special sticker.

I picked someone else.

I have a tendency to get lost.

I quite frequently find myself lost when trying to find new fishing locations. I have actually turned around and went home in frustration on more than one occasion (which itself isn't at all easy when you are already lost). I really, really want an iPhone to help with this problem.

Unfortunately, I spent my iPhone money on those damn Armani Sunglasses.

Why would you send me this, Kyner?

Kyner, a member on that Drake fishing board, sent me this video.



I have no idea what is being said in the video or Kyner's intention in sending this, but I can't see it being a gesture of friendship.

I know that many of my recent updates have had nothing to do with fishing, but were I doing any fishing I would still have nothing to post about since I fail at that, nearly every. single. time.

If you are still reading this, you are a fool.

There are words, but they are words without a voice. Their meaning is empty.

Life throws me a bone.

I found my Armani sunglasses.

I am still in shock. Since when do good things happen to me?

Am I really that much of a joke?

I really, really, really want this checkered wading jacket:



Unfortunately, it is out of my price range.

I contacted Loop in an effort to become part of their pro staff. I figure, I am a fishing guide so it is worth a try. They laughed at me. No seriously, they laughed at me.

They are gone.

I have looked everywhere.

My Armani sunglasses have disappeared, and I have lost all hope of finding them. Why do things like this always happen to me? I was just beginning to feel comfortable and had even caught some fish while wearing them.

I hate my life.

I am stubborn to the core.

It is my way or the highway.

I am going to get political for a moment.

I would like to share with you, my friends, a nice video from Youtube. Unlike most flyfishing video, I was able to make it past the first 2 minutes.



What makes this video so nice is the complete lack of Xgames anglers doing one of 2 things:

1) Using every cliche ever spoken to describe the awesomeness of the experience.

B. Talking about how difficult, challenging and hardcore the whole adventure really was.

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but not a thousand of their words. A thousand of their words will make even the most wonderful picture common.

Your voice is not unique, your voice is all the same. Stop trying so hard.



And on a side note, Emo Guide Service has been planning a trip to fish the Kola in '10. If you would like to accompany Emo Guide Service on this trip, please write a letter expressing your interest.

It really is Hard to Find a Friend.

What does this have to do with fishing?

Nothing.

Everything.



Sometimes, an ending is better than the continuing struggle.

Trying to boost my self confidence.

I purchased some new sunglasses on my trip. They are Emporio Armani glasses, and they are quite gaudy and a bit ridiculous.

Someone made the suggestion of wearing the latest fashion being a good way to make me feel less like an outsider. They were wrong. I am even more self-conscious and even more uncomfortable.

I also think the glasses may not have polarized lens despite being assured by the sales rep the lens are polarized. My fishing ability is going suffer because of this. :'(

The trip could have been worse.

I will be gone for most of September.

I am sure nobody is even reading this, but I just wanted to let anyone who may be reading know that they have not been forsaken.

Each step forward feels as though my shoes are made of concrete, but for the time being I will continue to struggle with each of these steps.

Take care.

For the record.

I just wanted to make it clear that I am not trying to be witty, clever, amusing, or anything other than real.

This all very real.

Trip.

I am going on a fishing trip very soon.

The anticipation is mounting; it drowns out my angst.

My flyboxes are nearly full.

I recently threw away all of my flies, and I have been tying long and hard to refill my fly boxes.

My boxes are nearly full, again.

I find myself not wanting to go out fishing for fear of losing some of these flies that I have worked so hard tying. They aren't nice flies, in fact many give me the urge to throw everything in the trash again and just give up. Still, I dont want to have to retie flies I have lost on the stream. Why can't I just be content?

I am still alive.

The blackness has not come for me yet.

I fear being treated as a second class citizen.

I may, or may not, have spent the day out on the lake fishing with no shirt and no sunscreen. Ok, I definately did. I am not going to complain about my condition, I brought this upon myself...

Wait, did I just say that? Did I just take responsibility for my condition instead of blaming this cruel, hard world for singling me out and making me suffer? What have I become?

Anyway, this infliction is making me self conscious, further damaging what little confidence I have left. I fear society may shun people like me, people with body pain, people with flaming red skin. I do not want to be treated as a second class citizen. I just want some water to help with this dehydration. I just want to be acknowledged. :'(

I may have a sickness.

I threw away all of my flies a couple months ago. Thats right, right into the trash can.

I guess I thought it would be a good idea to start over. It wasn't. My flyboxes are over halfway full again but I constantly find myself scrambling to tie some needed flies the night before a fishing outing because I threw those perfectly good ones I used to have into the trash.

Why do I do the things I do? Is there something wrong with me?

This is the best that I can do.

Every instant spent with my online 'friends' becomes an instant closer to the realization that, very soon, the energy I put into trying to fit in, trying to be 'one of the guys', is going to turn into apathy.

Once, I had pride. Now, every time they cut me with their words, talk about me behind me back, or blog about me what little self-confidence is left is whittled away.

I try, even though the outcome is quite obviously predetermined.

I will try, even if I wasn't cut out to be a fisherman.

This really is the best I can do.

I tied some more salmonflies.

This is all a dream. I will wake up soon, right?

Tying flies is very much like fishing.

I fail at both.

I tied a dozen salmonflies last night to send to some friends for an upcoming trip. Here is an example:



The collar is too big, among other flaws. I will not be surprised if these flies are spiked in the trash immediately after arrival.

The picture was also taken in my bathroom. Pretty pathetic, huh?

What. a. failure.

This doesn't make me sad.

It is nice that I dont fit the typical mold of the slightly grizzled, definately pudgy, flyfisherman and instead choose to take care of myself.

As for the rest of you flyfishermen; if I push on your tummy will you giggle like the Pillsbury dough boy?

You know who you are.

Some people invited me fishing.

They are all virtual friends, but I am afraid my awkwardness in social situations will lead to their nonacceptance in both real life and in future virtual interactions.

It is better to go my own way.

It is June, has this blog been abandoned?

I don't know.

May is a Month of Despair.

Unless something changes, this will be the only update this month.

Disenchanted...disillusioned...edification lay at the far end of a long road.

Here is a picture I made.

I cannot Empathise with you.

A lack of confidence in my ability to fish, along with my self-absorption in understanding what defines me, does not allow for empathy.

The best I can offer is an invitation for you to come sit over here with me, in hopes that we may each make a self discovery that will lead to our separate happiness, or at the very least the feeling of contentment.

This futility of fishing can't last forever, can it?

I purchased a new car today.

I purchased a Mazda.

Its cool, I can plug my iPod right into the stereo. Instead of having to rely on FM modulation and the associated interuptions from Howard Stern listening jerks with more powerful modulators, I can listen to my emo music in digital peace.

So I've got that going for me.

I feel this needed to be restated.

For some people that I am sure are not reading my blog.

You are trying to remember why you needed those zippered waders, maybe you
are trying to be someone you're not?

These extreme adventure anglers
that you see on the film tours are making you feel insecure.

They tell
you about the latest in outerwear systems, the gear that you bought last year is
obsolete.

You went out and purchased the latest fast action fly rod so
that you can keep up with all the other sheep.

So pack up your gear and
go hit the water, but leave that orange vest on the floor. It makes you look
awkward, you feel like a whore. You're not you anymore.

Are you an Extreme Angler?

We all struggle with the delusions that the way we are doing things is better than the way others are doing them. In this world where we let our delusions, coupled with other's labels, define us...why is it not enough to just simply be?

I am a fly fisherman.

High Hopes.

Not long ago, I signed up for a fly swap. The theme of the swap is foam, anything with foam.

Today I tied my contributions to the swap. The flies are klinkhammers with foam posts. I tried my hardest to tie them well, but they came out less than perfect.

I see at least seven things wrong with this tie.



Despite my very best efforts, I have failed again. My failure is never-ending, I will never be allowed into another swap.

Validation, I caught a fish. Heartbreak, the picture is aweful.

I caught a fish. How long has it been? I don't know, but I finally caught one.

The fish was a good fish. The excitement of the hookset, the fight and the landing was a very unfamiliar and foreign feeling. I don't know how long it had been since I felt this good. The old analogy of 'a kid in a candy store' comes to mind.

I photoed the fish and quickly released it to swim another day.

Then I reviewed the pictures to revel in my accomplishment.

Heartbreak.

Pack mentality.

Sometimes the group says, "Hey, let's all go over there and fish together."

To them I say, "Thank you, but I will go fish over here alone."

I can't do anything right.

I was the first presenter at the flyshop's first fly tying club meeting. I did not realize I was presenting, but when I showed up, a little late, I was introduced as, "Emo, our presenter for the evening."

I did my best to tie both interesting and effective patterns that the other folks hadn't seen before. I think they were happy with the patterns that I tied even if I was less than satisfied and felt things could have gone better.

One thing I learned from this experience is that I tie backwards. You read that right, I tie backwards. I wrap the thread around the hook the wrong way. I have since tried wrapping the thread around the hook the proper way but it feels so awkward.

While I get some satisfaction from being unique in the way I tie flies, I have been feeling really sad that this is yet another thing I am unable to do properly. Why do I have so much trouble with everything? I didn't get much sleep last night.

Will it always be like this?

I cannot catch a fish. Attached to the end of my fly line is my heart. My heart is broken. I cannot catch a fish.

Morning.

This morning was my favorite kind of morning. The sky was overcast, but the light from the rising sun was able to sneak under the cloud cover and reflect off the bottom of the clouds. This light colors the entire world in warm, yellow and reddish tones. This warm light doesn’t last long, eventually the sun is too high for its light sneak under the clouds.

These are the mornings I think, "There is a good chance the world is going to end today." I don't know why I have these thoughts, they have something to do with the warm tones of the light.

My FED rangefinder was sitting on the passenger seat of my car with half a roll of film, and I picked it up to take a couple pictures. I wanted to capture the light, but I couldn’t bring myself to snap any photos. Somehow I think that any photos, even if I could capture these tones, would diminish the experience.

The world may end today, but I am OK with that. Today will be a good day.

I am a horrible writer.

I cannot find the words to describe the way I am feeling. I am not a poet.

GPS Coordinates

The GPS Guy gave away the GPS coordinates to my favorite spot on the river.

I am still me.

You are trying to remember why you needed those zippered waders, maybe you are trying to be someone you're not?

These extreme adventure anglers that you see on the film tours are making you feel insecure.

They tell you about the latest in outerwear systems, the gear that you bought last year is obsolete.

You went out and purchased the latest fast action fly rod so that you can keep up with all the other sheep.

So pack up your gear and go hit the water, but leave that orange vest on the floor. It makes you look awkward, you feel like a whore. You're not you anymore.

This Pain is Real.

I put a size 4 streamer, barb and everything, through my arm yesterday. It was in there deep. I won't go into the details of how it happened, it is just one of things I have learned to expect to happen to me. I used the mono trick to rip it out of my arm.

I think the only emotion I am able to feel anymore is pain. I cannot remember the last time I felt excited or happy, and I certainly can't remember the last time I felt love. Pain feels so real, it feels like life.

When I ripped that hook out of my flesh, the pain that I feel on the inside was, for a brief moment, physically realized on the outside. It hurt, it felt real,it felt good.

Cruel Jokes.

I fished in PA this past weekend. I wanted to try my luck on the famous Letort Spring Creek in Carlisle.

The fish laughed at me. It has been weeks since I have caught any fish, is it possible for me to feel any worse?

Yes, it can get worse. Someone out there was catching fish, having a banner day. Pictures all over the internet make it all the more painful, like a razor blade cutting up my arm.



Why couldn't this have been me? Sometimes I feel like this is all just a cruel joke and I think, somewhere out there, Life is sitting around with his friends laughing at me.