Its a cold January morning, and I haven't gone to bed yet. I'm outside in my driveway walking my aging dog. Its so quiet. The silence makes every boot step sound like cannons going off in the middle of the street. Its dead outside. No sound. No cars driving by, no house lights on, no warmth, no life. Its beautiful. My dog raises his leg to the telephone pole. He's freezing and just wants to go home. Such a creature cannot enjoy his surroundings like I do. Or is that human nature to assume we're higher than them? This is what I ponder as I stand in the road, listening to the deafening silence. Only two lights in my small town remain on, the two street lights situated very far apart from each other. The cold is bitter, but I came prepared. All that can be heard is the wind blowing somewhere far off. I'm almost saddened when my dog finishes his business, signaling the start of walking home. Every step sounds like rubber pistons bashing into the ice-cold pavement. I reach the end of my driveway and unhook the leash. I watch the tiny lap dog eagerly run back to the house. I deliberately take my time reaching the door. I don't want to leave, yet I know I have to. Only once a year do I get to experience a peace like this. Oh the joys of walking my aging dog, on a cold January morning.
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I stayed up late because I was watching Videodrome. I don't regret it at all. None of that was planned. I just felt like writing the moment I got back.
One of these days I'll go back to writing a genuine story. Hard to top Clean-Up, Aisle Z, though.
Overall, I'd say things are on a positive note.
A day lived is not trying to reach a positive note, but seeing how long we can preserve it.
Nothing lasts, though.
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