I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence
And so the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're goin' through

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Lost in the weeds

Still in Natural Bridge, Virginia. It's pretty cold here, but then it's cold all over. Bette tells me the snow is over the high boots. Glad we got the snowblower.

Very tired. I'm not getting much sleep (never do when on the road). Also not studying much. I have cracked the books, but not much more than that. This weekend is going to be long with my nose in the book.

Trying to keep up with the world. Lots of people have seemed to have lost their minds out there. But that's nothing new.

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