We're all human

Winter has officially grabbed hold of my ambitions. Im fucking bored. To be sitting here writing this hung over and nauseous at the smell of my stank camp fire hair would be a delight. Instead I'm sober and showered and well aware of the fact that it's thirty four degrees outside and fresh snow has once again covered the brittle brown grass that is longing for Spring almost as badly as I. Even my skin,m which is almost as white as this paper, is seeking a little UV damage. I'm tired of wet shoes and runny noses.

I drive by where my spirit is in those wood everyday and wish I could be back there with the windows down and music cranking, case of beer in the back and a few good friends. I know it's nearly over, all this dreariness, but God is seems so far away. I don't know how to amuse myself these days. I've read books and cleaned things over and over and played my guitar to the point I want to throw up in the sound hole. I've done movies and bars and found nothing that is making Spring look even a day closer. I'll suck it up and stop bitching and try to make the best of it.

I guess as long as I'm not substituting alcohol and drugs for the liveliness I think I'm missing, I should make it just fine. A few more weeks, just a few more weeks.