Tall Glass of Water

I was walking through the bitter cold today, stuffing my hands into my pockets and silently cursing the weather. I found myself dreaming of a deserted island, a place where I could swing in a hammock and lose myself among the minimal crowd. I like the idea: clear water, a far off song, and no one to know my name. But it's all a state of mind. I can be in the bitter winds of Chicago, wishing for something pure and unknown or I can recognize what is in front of me. A new year, a new apartment, and new experiences all await. My life as it stands is ripe with mischief. For fuck's sake, my grandmother came to dinner last night with a new beau. He had a gold pinky ring, poured himself some whiskey, and made my grandmother cackle with laughter. It seems at that 75, the feeling ain't gone. She is living a Nicholas Sparks novel, and I, well, I'm just trying to live. I have a new (restored) typewriter and stories to report. And one day, soon enough, they'll be from my own days and nights. Did I mention I played a puritan in a music video yesterday..