Old Man Winter River: striped pillow cases

it never hurts to try and go about your own way. i feel like continuing with this course of action is nothing more than a slow and steady endeavor towards setting myself up for emotional repose. the world is my funeral parlor, and the roses never smelled as lovely.
but of course, i indulge quick and easy in dramatics.

just as i was saying in conversation with john the other day, i fall prey to cycles. routines comforting in their consistency, and ultimately poison for the soul that yearns for the extraordinary. and you would not believe the amount of time in any given day of my life that is dedicated to daydreams. it's all one can do to keep his sense of wonder when the world provided for you by every over human being is lined with a crippling monotony that is impressively disturbing in it's reach.

all i want from life right now is a quiet place in the oregon hills, a kayak, a bassett hound named bastion, and a vegetable garden.