serenity

woke to some beastly breakfast tacos, and related accoutrements, this morning after crashing at Stef, Jason, Seamus, and Bozman's.

and on this, the eve of my exit, the night--the trip--culminated with this peaceful snowstorm; the lack of wind and consistently-sized flakes seemed to stretch out the thickening azure of the evening, of my whole stay, lengthening its close into a hissing prolongment. everything succumbed to this frosted envelope. well played, Denver, well played.

I am not made for forty-two consecutive days of humid, 100 degree plus sun. I will take snow--blissful or blizzard--any fucking time of the year, the month, the day, the hour, the minute, the second. crisp and cool: this is how we should exist, through invigoration.

most likely the next Blip comes from the Fort, from Texas, from the beginning of the next phase. whatever that means. so with reluctance but recognizable necessity: onward!