This morning I woke up because a loon was shouting over the lake next to my parent’s house. I don’t think the sound of the loon itself woke me up, but the way it melded with the dream I was having did, because I came to mumbling crankily ‘someone get that fucking loon a towel already.’ Sleeping with me must be an adventure in surrealism. Beautiful sound, though. The loon's call is a beautiful sound, that is. The beauty of the sound of sleeping with me is a more subjective affair.
I am generally cranky these days. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders. I know that sounds like a complaint, and I reckon it is, but really I’m just trying to figure out how I can work out properly to build up the muscle mass required to carry the world on my shoulders. I have no problem with the world being on my shoulders as long as I can carry it comfortably. It’s better than me thinking it’s up my ass, I suppose, or it being on the shoulders of an idiot.
I have nothing non-personal to write today so I’ll see you after the cottage – my brain needs some sorting. It always does, around a North Bay run. One thing’s more or less for sure – I’m going to have to make an England run sooner rather than later.