(bottom up done)

My brain is a strange fruit suckled from dead trees under the weight of a lone star breeze.

And yet, for some reason, i just can't fucking sleep.

That's really no surprise considering the casual time of most these missives but my shit remains jetlagged. bogged down by meat and grease and conversations, the likes of which i haven't really seen since the last goddamn time i took a trip into my familial past.

I suppose i'm learning things. not that i'm entirely sure i really needed to. words stumbling out from the mouth of my perpetually ailing father (in much a different way than mom's got of dying year after year after year). tales of women. certain infidelities. deaths in the line and genuine concern for those he left behind. or, really, who left him back in california some thirteen years since.

I'm not all that sure how i feel about it. him. his family. his life in the world's fattest state but i'm glad it's not killing him. that it's given him something to put his weight into and smile about when he goes rolling into sleep.

We'll see though.

Not to be overtly pessimistic, but i've got a few days left in this town before i rock it. a few more then before i have a chance to crack my stomping ground again and i worry that all this intensely personal banter might take a few years off my living end.

Still, it could be wonderful.

Either way, there's oklahoma.