Black Hills Blues
Posted: Sun Feb 07, 2010 8:51 am
Life is good
The eastern sky is turning crimson and dawn is cracking in the heartland. I am getting somewhat better at this stuff, haven’t exactly mastered it, but I am making inroads into my peace-of-mind exercises. It takes my mind off the speedo-meter that is stuck at 45mph, the six new Michelin’s I need to purchase, and two-dollar seventy-nine a gallon fuel.
Sitting here staring out the front window of my shop office, no plans, no ambitions, shut down. Really would like to be in Lead or the Black Hills this summer, it would be a great day to be just about anywhere — anywhere but here. To be where the weather report didn’t contain the words “storm warning” and the view never seemed redundant or stale.
My mind quickly travels back in time, to grade school and my youth, and how I used to spend an inordinate amount of time at the pencil sharper, grinding away, staring out the window at the nice day and dreaming of better things. Some sixty years later, I am back at that proverbial spot (in my mind) and I am still the impossible dreamer, the hopeless romantic.
I like the country
Can’t stand all this city strife
Guess I want to be on the boulevard … rollin’
Rollin’ all my life.
Open the east gate of Yellowstone and let me in!
Thinking about Bear Tooth Pass,
Cooke City, Red Lodge Montana
two-lane highways and cheap gas.
Crater Lake,
Junction City,
Tahoe,
Clear water streams
What a hopeless romantic,
a man of many dreams.
No adventure in my life,
No more icing on the cake,
Ho hugs, soft kisses, warm hello’s,
No backrubs, or calls on the telephone,
No important dates for me to make,
My coffee cup has developed a pinhole leak on the bottom,
My first problem of the day.
Sunday Morning, my idle mind draggin’ my heart around. I can hear the low muffled sound of my own heart beating. It disturbs me, a distressing reminder of my own mortality. A slow steady drum beat of how fragile life really can be, and I stop to consider the fact that we seldom realize the frailty of it all.
Sitting here at my window with my cup of Joe, meditating. Today, this day, my thoughts should be concentrated on other things, not so much on leaving, getting out of here. But rather, just making it thru another Oklahoma winter day.
The weekend is dying … Two quick short days in heaven, often just isn’t enough. Perhaps a trip north to the Black Hills and a quick visit to The Bad Lands might just be what the doc ordered up? Might be the placebo for my winter time blues.
See you in the fast lane.
BCO
The eastern sky is turning crimson and dawn is cracking in the heartland. I am getting somewhat better at this stuff, haven’t exactly mastered it, but I am making inroads into my peace-of-mind exercises. It takes my mind off the speedo-meter that is stuck at 45mph, the six new Michelin’s I need to purchase, and two-dollar seventy-nine a gallon fuel.
Sitting here staring out the front window of my shop office, no plans, no ambitions, shut down. Really would like to be in Lead or the Black Hills this summer, it would be a great day to be just about anywhere — anywhere but here. To be where the weather report didn’t contain the words “storm warning” and the view never seemed redundant or stale.
My mind quickly travels back in time, to grade school and my youth, and how I used to spend an inordinate amount of time at the pencil sharper, grinding away, staring out the window at the nice day and dreaming of better things. Some sixty years later, I am back at that proverbial spot (in my mind) and I am still the impossible dreamer, the hopeless romantic.
I like the country
Can’t stand all this city strife
Guess I want to be on the boulevard … rollin’
Rollin’ all my life.
Open the east gate of Yellowstone and let me in!
Thinking about Bear Tooth Pass,
Cooke City, Red Lodge Montana
two-lane highways and cheap gas.
Crater Lake,
Junction City,
Tahoe,
Clear water streams
What a hopeless romantic,
a man of many dreams.
No adventure in my life,
No more icing on the cake,
Ho hugs, soft kisses, warm hello’s,
No backrubs, or calls on the telephone,
No important dates for me to make,
My coffee cup has developed a pinhole leak on the bottom,
My first problem of the day.
Sunday Morning, my idle mind draggin’ my heart around. I can hear the low muffled sound of my own heart beating. It disturbs me, a distressing reminder of my own mortality. A slow steady drum beat of how fragile life really can be, and I stop to consider the fact that we seldom realize the frailty of it all.
Sitting here at my window with my cup of Joe, meditating. Today, this day, my thoughts should be concentrated on other things, not so much on leaving, getting out of here. But rather, just making it thru another Oklahoma winter day.
The weekend is dying … Two quick short days in heaven, often just isn’t enough. Perhaps a trip north to the Black Hills and a quick visit to The Bad Lands might just be what the doc ordered up? Might be the placebo for my winter time blues.
See you in the fast lane.
BCO
