Day 283

i've been walking about this whole town today. the snow on the street is melting again and i barely need to wear this checkered billabong winter coat. in fact, a tear has appeared in the seams of an under-sleeve and it appears that the purchase made in an american discount store in october will last only this one winter as a full time pedestrian/hitchhiker in these mountains.

i've seen the same group of strangers at least four times during errands across this small town. maybe fernie is indeed a lot like mayberry. now an old man with starchy blue jeans and a purple windbreaker, with the label 'drifter' embroidered on his backpack, bobs a few steps in front of me. i begin to describe the scene in my mind (and am never able to remember the words later on) and then almost run into the man as he suddenly stops in the doorway of the grocery store to question another friendly, fellow senior citizen about their heath. apparently its not good.

each observation and majority of thoughts of the day are run under the tracks of several hours time before shot at with the click and clack of these empty-shell keyboard strokes. hopefully, suddenly, one and then two and then maybe even three paragraphs can be shattered into black against white. text after type.

earlier, at one of the two coffee shops i visited on this day off, a kid no more than three years old had wandered from his parents' table of deep conversation. he stood tippy-toe to peek over the back of the paralleling couch. i looked up and he ducked down, but i could still see the twinkling of one blue eye in the valley of the black leather seams. i coyly raised my book above my eyes. he raised his curious blonde head. i quickly dropped my book and smiled. he smiled back and dropped his head back to his tiny nook of safety, singling his hidden vision at my next move. an old lady stopped on the way out of the shop to tell me that that exchange was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

as is the bimonthly payday tradition, dinner tonight consists of two steaks and six eggs with four pieces of toast to sop up any liquid remains. this is always a happy day and somehow my appetite is understanding and accepting to the regular butter-and-spiced noodles or beans and rice on any other given night. still we get along well and nights like tonight seem to reforge any bond seemingly left abandoned in the lower mind. i do have two consciences.

i have three weeks to read 1047 pages of this book. interlibrary loan policy excludes renewal. this is the most interesting book i've picked up in a few weeks.