Welcome To My Bed

Runaway.

We left last night to beat the snowstorm that blanketed the Northeast today.

This weekend, I am sleeping on the most comfortable mattress I have ever experienced. This is incredibly pertinent, I promise. Anyway, mattress manufactured in heaven, made of clouds. And the softest parts of sheep. Or something equally as strange. I slept as soundly as I ever have, or at least as soundly as I can ever remember sleeping. Maybe that has something to do with being stoned or warm or maybe it was because I just had sex. I don't really know. But there is something about this bed that I wish I could explain.

Other than that, and the person the bed belongs to, most everything else is shot to hell. Devastation in the form of STDs and divorce. Thank god none of these things have to do with me directly. And then there are the problems of distance with most of the people I care about. Grace Ann is in Richmond. Maggie is in Jersey. I am in Connecticut under a foot of white.

We have to sneak cigarettes when the sky is black tinted orange. But I would never mind such things. It reminds me a lot of high school. But then, so do a lot of things. That never comes as a surprise.