Day 312

we're almost in the final week. the final countdown.

so we make plans and wake up at about ten for a couple hours of riding. burritos- they'd be a good lunch. we ride until anticipation heavies the quad. burritos- a good reason to call it quits.

starts raining a bit and we drink coffee at the flat with our homemade prizes and watch part of the john lennon documentary. swede comes home to publicly declare/share/thinks lennon and dylan sound crazy when they sing. doesn't care any for culture, music, or books are his second points. and number three: reading is waste of time.

the gym. haven't been in months. nate and i go for a bit, maybe just over an hour. shoulder feels good. strong.

more light rain. greying skies turn dark.

choose flannel and torn jeans. grabba couple books and head solo to organic market for the frail wooden table by peaceful window. black iron fireplace is turned off. paragraphs blend under talk with the counter friends. they begin to close- no rush- and offer a refill. lights, cya later.

more light rain. darkening skies are black. a dozen or so steps and i'm back.

pulls accordion out of bedside case. mothy lance folds wheeze between presses of plastic lance keys. digital keyboard and amp switched on in other corner of room. moving there right now.