The B--F--G

I've been running along this cliff for a very long time. So long in fact that choices are very limited for me. I can keeping running, and tripping, and getting more tired. I can turn and fight whatever it is that pursues me. I can turn and just let it eat me. Or I can jump. It's not dark over the side, just foggy. But I still don't know what's there, where the bottom is...if there even is a bottom. Not making a choice is no longer an option. It is no longer a choice I have.

The power went out last night between six-thirty and seven. So, no heat until shortly after one in the morning. It got cold. Real fast. I felt horrible for the power guys out in the dark and sleet working to bring power back to the twenty-two houses affected. I don't mind not having power usually, just when the sky is spitting ice all over the place. Your house doesn't stay warm for long without a constant warm flow then. It was kinda like camping in the arctic maybe. We read the BFG by candlelight that danced all over its pages. We laughed a lot. And that was the good part about it. It was so quiet that we actually could hear and listen to each other.

Outside there are limbs all over the place. Trees covered in ice. Some trees down and some split and half-way down. The bare trees look more alive, in a sense, with a coating of ice. It's as though the very souls of the trees have become tangible, vapor like and trapped in the opaqueness. From far off they almost look as they do when spring makes them wake up, still fuzzy from sleeping with winter. Wait! What the hell am I talking about? Wannabe poetic bullshit. I say what I think or feel too often. Doesn't matter though, no one pays any mind.