this space is blank

the clouds outside are panting like dogs; i feel the slobber of their playful intent. but i'm inside writing. this is serious. i'm very serious.

i've run out of pages in my old journal so i need a new one. of course i'm picky, so not just any journal will do. where's my coffee? too quick down the hatch. i'd like a cabin on a hill in some romantic, no place holler. but i won't get one for a long time. if i become famous one day maybe. suppose i'll just have to settle for the word 'holler', use it in my day to day so people can keep asking me everyday where i'm from.