56 and cloudy

Perfect weather to write. I'm spending a few days at my "country home" (my parent's place in the Roswell suburbs), drinking their coffee, eating their food, being a giant human leech as I sometimes am.

Yet there is a semi-productive slant here. In addition to bumbling my way across the pages of turbotax.com, I'm sifting through ten years of notebook writing, attempting to type and save it all to my computer. Less of a fire hazard, I figured.

In a strange way though, I feel like I'm resurrecting the teen angst of my 15-year-old self, digging up poorly written poems from high school. Maybe a bonfire isn't such a bad idea?

Thankfully, some resurrections are more meaningful than others... Happy Easter! Here's hoping that good things lie ahead for you, dear reader, and your loved ones.

new love...

a duo called blind pilot. Heard their story on NPR this morning. Going home to buy the album on iTunes, because it is probably time I stop listening to the three songs on 3eb's Red Star album on repeat. I mean, I adore them, but my brain is begging for something new.

i believe in the sand beneath my toes

Four days in Key West is certainly something to be grateful for. Especially when you don't have to pay a dime. I am one lucky, lucky son of a gun: I know this. Don't hate.