well, i have to confess: i'm listening to manchester orchestra again--a lot--just in case you wanted to disregard the rest of anything i ever say.


seventeen long days ago. that is when i last slept in my own bed. a lot can happen in seventeen days. between december seventeenth and january third you can end up inside of a fourteen hour car ride. you can also end up in omaha. in a greasy bowling alley with drunk people. in a liquor store/gas station. in a headache, in a hot tub with broken jets, in yet another hotel. in someone else's glances. i think i like the idea of seventeen days.

after all, seventeen days did make me think about things, about people, about Jesus differently.

anyways. there is a backyard full of ashtrays that i visited once. it was cold there, and my nose kept running. you always were giving me messages, but they were lost in other things. the air was too crisp. the ground was too icy. my hair wasn't wet, because i had a hat on, but my neck still had chills running down it. our communication always did seem a little off, i guess. whatever you had to say, i forgot it, forgot we needed each other (sometimes) until i went back into warm air. another time, in the cold, though, i think i got you. there was ice, and there was snow, but that always did make my eyes more blue, and i liked watching your breath in the air. we walked for awhile, until my feet were soaked, but you were able to tell me all your stories. we settled back into warm air, and it felt good. i always did like being outside though. maybe we can try again one day, when there is a sun. i'll try to stay focused.