Woke up foggy- peel back the curtain of life to an empty street and wonder at it all. Breathe in the dreaming: Is it real, is it bad, does it matter? Tristan hears me stirring, and stirs in turn- "Daddy?" It's a question and an order all in one. I go to his bed and bid him good morning. Satisfied that he has touched base with HIS reality, he returns to his dream. And mine- wisps away


prologue this was good enough to write down in one of my journals (skeleton) . I elaborated a tiny bit there. I wonder if I should here. But, naw, I'll let it stand alone. Tristan's up now. I'm cooking sausage, he's bouncing around, eating applesauce and huggin on "My Daddy!" I've got CMT playing in the background (you know I'm feeling sentimental when I'm listening to country music).. I've been loving on the classic alternative channel for weeks now on the music channels on cable. It's - well, hell, its a good damn morning. Beer with breakfast, but hey its a sunday,and it'll be alright. Twist wants to play on the computer, so I;m gonna get off here and let him tear shit up. Enjoy your day, folks. Its the little things..