Later

A noise in the night, something wakes me. Nothing visible, but that doesn't mean much. Living in the woods, you become a light sleeper, anything might be something. I hate the holiday season, it's such complete bullshit. B's nephew, Bear, visits with a friend, they're both drugged out the ears, wondering why I don't have beer, Bud Light, for them to drink. I explain I drink whiskey, but they don't seem to understand, seems the friend can't drink whiskey because he gets crazy. He's jittery, bounces around the house, noticing detail. Quinn the Eskimo. Later, I can hardly remember their visit, some cigaret butts is all. Bear leaves me some pills that I flush down the drain. I appreciate the idea, but I don't do downers. I struggle to remain positive about the world. We're left with what? When the fines are washed away. Sand and water. Shatter your last dream and what's left? Almost nothing. The heart of me, whatever remains. I was thinking today, splitting kindling for the week ahead, that I had no idea what the future promised. And I'm ok with that, the uncertainty, fuck a bunch of knowing, what we don't know is so much more important. Everything that happens has a reason. Not to get into any metaphysic. A 90% chance of rain, changing to snow. I can deal with that. Crossing boundaries, Bob Dylan, sometimes the dog is all you can talk about, an old hound. All night long. A list of enemies. It's a raccoon, that sound, working the compost pile. Steve Winwood. Jazz but bluesy. I drift off. Nothing but what I'm not. I'm certainly not what I seem.