HIGH ATOP A BRIDGE

... Cold cause the window was wide open, my coat was wrapped around me and feeling like a fucking bleeding body bag...the sound of distant gunfire popped like like fireworks in the distant, the beating hooves of horses thundered all around me... this wasn't a dream, this event I was partaking in was happening not at the present moment in time but somewhere in the distant past, somewhere well off in the closed closet of time, or so it seemed. Someone was stalking my mind, the changing year where everyone who's been secluded comes out aroused and ready to play, slowly losing their mind, desperately slipping into complete and total fucking madness, treacherous and dangerous mental states of health. I climbed out of my nest and looking over the horizon i could see distant explosions and bursts of smoke, smoked mixed with the low hovering clouds and shells fall all over the mountain side. I lit a cigarette and looked for my boots and socks, piled nicely to my right and exhaling blue smoke and breath in the cold morning air I realized I had traveled back home, somewhere I didn't recognize but felt like home. It's cold, I thought, mighty cold indeed. I began looking through my day pack for a pair of light gloves to break the chill of this hellish morning, all the while pops and thuds all around my local surroundings, but where where the horses? More important things to understand in the mean time, why was there a war outside my bridge, outside my home, who was firing, why? For what benefit? I quickly put on my socks and boots now that the nicotine had reach all the important places need to jump start my day. I rummaged through my pack and located a pint of Canadian drink, brown and strong, a sip would relieve this horrible taste in my mouth. Ah, a sigh and then packing my bag, tightly then tossing the frozen death trap in the craw space above my head...

It'd be nice to go back to work, understand a 40 hour work week again, quit my addictions to cigarettes and raging alcohol, loosen the grip of incessant unpredictability. Stability has grown to be very boring, but essential. War rages as scheduled out on the western front...a foot plus of snow predicted for Monday HIGH ATOP A BRIDGE. SEE YOUS IN HELL

RAUL KENNEDY

MY RESIGNATION FROM 'MODERN LIFE AND LIVING' IS BEING WRITTEN DAILY, DAY BY DAY...THANKS FOR UNDERSTANDING-GARY WILDERNESS