2:36 a.m. - 2004-11-22
night time fell like the opening
The transformation into a night owl is so gradual you barely recognize it. But all of a sudden, you're getting restless at midnight-thirty and heading out for an idle walk, dining at Huddle House and plopping down at Hot Corner to read for a couple hours. The walk back from there is silent, devoid even of newly-written songs in your head, and the way rain-specks waltz down towards you if you look up at the streetlights is a reflection of how God might look if he exists. In the morning, you are always dehydrated and slow to take on your various self-appointed tasks. This is all basically all right.
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