seventeen dayz of phrase
january fourteen, two thousand and ten - calgary, ab
a day of rest. let the shoulders down, so the mind can quest. i was up til the twi-light getting wide-eyed inspired by "it might get loud." jack white is one bad mother. at 430 in the am i set an alarm for 830, so i could catch the cold view from the bus window as we crested the peaks on the way to calgary. total white out. snow dropping heavy and full, satisfying the cracks on the ground. burying trees as they angled on the edge of mountains,- making them resemble snowmen. the twisty turns started to set in, so i made my way back to my bunk. i slept through it all. apparently the sun came out and all that snowy distortion cleared. i'll catch it next time.
i was thinking on my way home from the pub, where i was hanging out with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and a prime rib burger coated in mushrooms - that i wish Sherlock Holmes was real. i'd like to hang out with him. maybe he could help determine what i'm supposed to do with the mystery novel of my live, and where it should find itself. he's probably not a great occupational therapist, but i'm sure he'd keep me guessing.
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