Up late last night, endlessly reading Kafka On The Shore, last book read was ‘no country for old men’ by cormac mccarthy and before that ‘the first horseman’ by john case. well, a strange mix of literature, a strange obsession with reading lately. an escape within an escape i suppose.

On the road out to Bridgeport State Park, only to find the road is closed. No troubles, drove down and past the signs and found a nice spot cropped out looking over the river.

On a sunny day the sound of the distant river moves from one ear to the other without pattern yet hypnotizing.

I spent the afternoon lying on my tailgate, listening, watching, thinking, absorbing the sun, reading, and taking pictures.

I’m such a loner lately, but that’s ok I think for now. Its how I’ve always been. nothing new there. Sometimes I think I just need to appreciate that so that I can appreciate my friends and friends yet to be. Or just so I can appreciate my own identity, and find solace in that. I think there is nothing wrong with a little solace in that. I wish I had more time to put into it, and that more people found that to be valuable in some way.

Tonight just letting time flow around me. Very quiet. Back and forth between books and wine and this computer.

October time.