Arriving in a new city by night is always a confusing experience, made all the more surreal by the biting cold and sound-deadening snow that blanketed the town on Saint Patrick’s Friday. Aside from brief breaks for fuel and key exchanges, I’d last stood on solid ground in Manhattan, which made this quietude a special blessing and also a shock to an addled system.
Nothing will snap me out of my hypnogogic trance faster than someone telling me that I have more interests or dreams than they do. I will fiercely accost a perfect stranger because I believe so firmly in the human imagination and the childlike whimsy that resides somewhere inside every one of us.
Hank doesn’t know that the universe is infinitely-expanding, and he is a better man for it.
I pulled up to one of the only sections of river that wasn’t imminently raging from the evening’s water release or still high from the morning’s power generation. The sun
Three days ago I said I’d be right back with a few positive tales from the last week. I then spent the ensuing days milking every positive and energetic moment
Some days my brain echoes with static and feels so stuffed with cotton balls that my favorite places feel grating and abrasive and my very existence is taxing and uncomfortable.
I don’t want to tell myself a story about the woods while sitting under fluorescent lights in a cubicle somewhere far away from them. We needn’t delude ourselves that our masterpieces are just a few months away, if only we keep biding time.