it's been far too long since i've written here. There've been times i've felt like it, but something told me the words would sound better in my head than on this screen.

Getting ready for the winter is so different this year. no wood to stack, no fireplace to keep me warm, no songs to write. I can see why city folks feel depressed this time of year. All you can do is wait for the cold.

I cleaned my room the other day. Found old letters and photos of my last life. Traveling, living freely, meeting people. We all looked so miserably happy on the back of that 48 in the rain. I remember how scared we were by how fast that train was going, but no one wanted to say it out loud. It's hard to complain when you're living out your dreams.

Now I'm waiting, all the time. Waiting for winter. Waiting for life to kick in again. waiting for news, waiting for letters that should have come last week. waiting to feel complete.

I'm not sad, or depressed really. that's the interesting thing about it. I mostly feel bad for being lazy in the city. watching tv and not the forest lose its leaves. I feel in-between two existences a lot of the time. Eventually, i'll have to give in to one.

The cabin has been out of my control for a long time now. Byron and Carina are moving out, ,Janette and Lonnie are moving in. The mice own the place these days. I'm hoping Janette and Lonnie can help that problem. I don't want to give a second house over to the rodents.