The Zen Cabin

What are words for?

It’s drab here in Smalltown, USA, lately. Gray, damp, not terribly cold but just at that level of chilly that seems to work its way into your bones, as if out of spite because we’re not complaining about the temperature yet.  Drinking coffee from a rocks tumbler because the coffee cups are all dirty and I hate washing dishes. Wondering how long I can avoid putting on big people clothes and running errands; it’s not a measure of time in situations like this but a measure of cigarettes.  I just noticed that WP has a tiny Word Count indicator at the bottom of this section.  I’d never really thought about the quanity of words I write, beyond “long post” or “short post”.  Now I’m sure I’ll be monitoring that and wondering if it’s a fair metric for my thoughts, such as they are.  130 words and I haven’t really said anything.  See?

Mother Ripley was here for a week and has returned to my darling sister’s place now.  It’s almost… what, awkward? to see her so frail.  As if she’s shrinking in every dimension.  Not shrinking – fading, maybe.  Yes, fading… the way a radio station loses power as you drive away from the city, the songs still recognizable but less and less so as the wheels turn and my world is all about what’s inside the car.  226 words, WP tells me.

The last couple days, I’ve caught myself wishing there were snow on the ground.  I think I want to experience that feeling of being warm in my apartment while it’s cold and Wintery outside.  Maybe I’m just longing for change.  I’ve also been thinking I need to get laid.  Given the choice between sex and companionship or snow, well… that’s an easy call, isn’t it?  Frankly, there are many things I need to do: revamp the blog (nothing major), fire up the other site I’ve been sitting on for almost a year and try to make some money, get the camera out again, stop smoking, stop drinking so much, get some exercise, eat something that’s actually healthy…  Lucky for me there’s a new year right around the corner.

Speaking of a new year, I’m stunned by the velocity this year has picked up.  I’ve been in this apartment almost nine months now and it seems like forever.  Jesus.  It’s a blur, at best.  388 words now.

I don’t want to sound like I’m depressed.  I’m just slightly hung over and my mood is quiet and gray, like the weather.  413 words.  6 cigarettes left.  I suppose it’s time to get moving and get something done.

Rip -