rambler gothic

Feeling inspired by Those Poor Bastards, after more than a month, I have decided to blog for a few minutes. Since no one reads this fucking shit except for me, who gives a crap that its been such a long time since I've last written.

I've been to Vegas, gotten drunk, seen Jimmie Johnson win too many fucking Nascar races and done way too much studying. I'm ready to travel again. I miss Montana. I should have become a trucker. Just me and the lonesome road. I miss the snow that would be a foot deep outside of my Montana home since I'm not much of a shoveler and November is half over. I miss WEATHER and the bare branches and the winds that would toss snowflakes on each wispy breath Mother Nature exhaled from her sweet lips!

How am I going to get through this semester when everything I do and think about revolves around getting out from under the textbooks and computer to get back to living?! I want to go to Phoenix, drive back to Montana, see Las Vegas in the winter and absorb the scenery from my driver's side window as I pass through each town. What about Phoenix and the smell of the sage and wet desert at night? Yeah, I could use some of that right now. The God filled skies of Idaho through an infrared lens? Need it.

Well, lucky for myself and my furry little Banjo Eyes, he rides well in the car and I have friends and family in all four corners of these United States. Mom is in Arizona, best neighbor ever is in Montana and the sweetest girl in the world calls Indiana her home. An oil change and and fill up should get me somewhere half way between here and there.