More pages every day. More miles, traveled. More breaths, breathed.
More coffee, more food, more information, processed: computer screen, Droid, radio, conversations, TV, books.
More hormones. More daydreams. More fantasies. More indulgence. More restraint.
The sameness. The routine. But there is beauty there. I like knowing that the sun is coming up. I like knowing where I live, where I'll sleep, which truck is mine in the parking lot.
Who wants a day of nothing but novelty? Nothing but surprises? Can you even have a surprise without an expectation of something, well, expected?
But in all these things there are differences. One breath from another. Which words to use. What to listen to, what's on the next page...
What questions will the girls ask? What will they discover in the sameness, that they never noticed before? And can I do the... same?
At War With the Weather Gods. - There are times, here, when I fear I've done something to personally piss off the weather gods: Days when any sunlight is obscured by ceaseless, soul-sucki...