Wednesday, September 20, 15:35 CDT
It's the 20th of September. I've been here 5 weeks... How'd that happen? Am I permanently afflicted with a disorder that prevents me from perceiving the passage of long periods of time? Or is it just that there's so little actual change in my day to day existence that everything blurs into a single memory?

("Guess I'm stuck in a dream, surrounded by colored leaves on the ground...")

This is one of those days you can tell it's getting on towards Fall. Chill, windy, can't quite decide whether it should cloud up and rain, leaves blowing around... People walking slightly hunched over, hands in pockets, the way that says if it wouldn't look so undignified they'd break into a run and get somewhere warm.

It's time to start burning stuff... Piles of leaves, sticks, firewood, whatever.

Hot beverages, pots of excessively hot chili, crisp air and wood smoke, dead leaves, burning stuff, smoking cheap cigars and drinking cold beer while burning stuff, short days and nights cold enough to justify sleeping under 50 pounds of blankets, that certain quality in the angle and tone of the light that tells you it's Fall, even on those days when it's hot enough to be mid-July...

It's almost enough to make up for the end of Summer.

p1k3 / 2000 / 9 / 20