Colder

I'm terribly sorry, I wrote a post for you full of wonderful allusions, the phrase "balling the jack," and, in my opinion, some of my better writing. When I went to post, the cursed blogger told me to sign in, and those words were lost - to be replaced by these ones.

What I wanted to talk about was the power of words, of biking in the rain, and dimly lit rooms which tick and play off-versions of Edelweiss. It was quite pretty, I promise, but I suppose that sometimes words just escape you. So it goes.

Today was the end of something important, something not meant to end. It is really astonishing how mad you can get before you realize that it doesn't matter. Most times the worst days have the best nights. Mine started with a bike ride through the rain with slick breaks that refused to stop, and ended, for my purposes, in that room with pillows and blankets. I can still hear the clocks. They chime the hour - one, two three, and I am gone.

Regards,

Caleb

P.S. habitué - One who frequents a particular place, especially a place offering a specific pleasurable activity.

P.P.S. I am sincerely sorry those five paragraphs escaped me. I'd say that it won't happen again, but there is no wood to knock on or salt to throw over my shoulder.