I want to jump off the atmosphere, catch the next comet to Ganymede, and smoke the opiate of the stars.

the weather outside makes me want to go camping and hang out all day in a tent

Thinking about a big mountain. Staring at poles and water filter. Contemplating sneaking out for a hike up to Cone Peak. Nervous.

Counting whales is in no way more helpful than counting sheep.

Well, it’s only like a mile and a half. But the bike doesn’t really work. Okay, so it’s nice out. I’ll walk.

Driving down to West Cork used to be a quiet pleasure.
Now it’s a melancholy chore.
Still, the sky is absolutely full of stars.