"Homegrown. Rock to the rhythm and bop to the beat of the radio.
You ain't got to sing but you've got the face to play the roll"
-Fans. Kings of Leon
It rained today. I was asleep for most of it.
I got off work at 11:45 last night (as is customary). I got home feeling so tired I almost fell asleep standing at the fridge looking for something to snack on. Around midnight I heard the wind pick up outside. It was almost like a foley track from a really low-budget creeper movie. I like the sound of the whistling wind it actually made me perk up and get a little pang of nostalgia in my tummy. I decided to grab my blankets and pillows and sleep on the couch where the sound of the wind was really, for lack of a better term, perfect.
Upon ascending the stairs to my remotely-located room, I felt that I would not make it back to the couch, especially laden with bedding. Being unable to hear the beck and call of the wind, I resolved to dive into the middle of my king-sized comforter poured out on my twin sized bed and bury my face in my silky pillows and think myself to sleep, contemplating how to drive my story forward.
You can't truly experience a silk pillowcase until you grow a full beard. You would think that it would be smoother on bare skin, but even an unkempt beard feels smooth against silk... like a myriad of tiny ice skates supporting your face. It may be a stretch to say that it is also like having a million antennae feeling for any imperfection in the knit of silk and finding none.
what I'm trying to say is, I fell asleep quite peacefully.
When I awoke it seemed like the wee hours of the morning... maybe 7 or so. The light was smudged out like the sun had yet to vault the mountain range. In reality it was 1:30 and the sun was filtering through stuffy rainclouds and foggy windows. I had hopes that despite the dreary look, that it would be nice and warm--humid and sticky.
Not so, the rain from the night (or morning... it's all the same to me in this case) was freezing cold. and everything looked muddy. I wanted to work on my motorcycle. I looked forward to that all weekend and now my monday was to be chilly and wet.
It's okay. I went and worked on it anyway. In the process I realized that I could save about a hundred dollars on parts if I struck some items from an order I placed thursday afternoon.
I checked, it appeared as though my order had not been processed as of 4PM so I canceled it and reordered only the parts I need.
I plan to have a perfectly awful looking, fully functional motorcycle by the end of the month.
I took a 2 hour nap at around 7. I got up around 9 and buckled down to write some more of my story. It's tough making a story move forward, finding ways to make it interesting even in the boring everyday parts. I slowly painted the character I needed.
He is about 52 years old, wears a camouflage cap over his graying hair, he cries when he's drunk and he usually is so. when he wants to feel like a productive member of society he goes from store to store collecting business cards, and stuffing them in a wallet with nothing else it it.
He thumbs through these cards with an air of importance. He begs the interest of those around him but is too important to volunteer any insight to them.
He enters the story for about a minute. I don't think we'll hear about him again.
I've been posted up at my computer for about 4 hours talking to friends, plotting my story, listening to Iron and Wine, and now Kings of Leon. I think it's time for me to go.
see you around.