Two-meat Tuesday

Two-meat Tuesday

1. Sunrise
2. Troy: the movie

1. Sunrise was a little delayed for me, having to poke over the power plant in order to get to me. I donned the sunglasses I’d brought with me, snugged the cap a little lower, and life was good, getting better. The fish were hitting the surface, just not hitting my lures. I pulled out a cigar, fired that sucker up, and ruminated on the day, the serene beauty of it all. It’s a form of meditation, or, rather, for me, I was wondering why the bass in East Austin didn’t like my white worm. I remembered a water bottle, and as the morning wore on, I was thinking I shouldn’t have bothered. By the end of the trek, a good six miles, I’d downed the water, grateful I’d remembered it. I just forgot the bug spray.

Over and behind the power plant, there’s an inlet, full of hot water discharged from the plant. Had several “visual confirmations” that fish were there, and I had a couple of nibbles, but nothing to set a hook to. Then, while I was looking rather than fishing, I noticed some of the largest perch I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure if they were Redbeast or Bluegill, as it was still in the shadows, but at least one of them was huge, maybe more than a pound. Bigger than my hand. I quickly switched to a smaller bait with a tiny hook, but that no sooner fluttered down in front of the big guy and he took off for the murky depths. He didn’t get that big without running from certain baits.

I encountered at least a half dozen walkers, joggers, and similar types. Everyone was friendly nodding saying, “Hello.” Don’t know what it was. Full Moon?

2. Troy: the movie. Way too much plot to muddle up the action. Yeah, the movie version doesn’t really do justice to the story. Or its spin-offs and sequels, as I recall. But as a movie? Pretty nice way to kill some time. Entertaining, even. Although it doesn’t – apparently – stick to the story, since the story was a myth in the first place, and maybe it’s okay to bend the plot of a myth if it makes for a more dramatic telling of the tale. Still, as far as I was concerned, too much plot.

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About the author: Born and raised in a small town in East Texas, Kramer Wetzel spent years honing his craft in a trailer park in South Austin. He hates writing about himself in third person. More at KramerWetzel.com.

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