the sudden realization that outside my window is as good as tuscany

really i must be some sort of raving egomaniac. look at me type like a rabid drunk journalist, and laugh at me to think that somewhere someone reads this filth and just might enjoy it. the hills out side are striped like the hillsides in paintings...architecture, trees, architecture, trees, architecture, trees, skyline, shadow, light...in fifty years this landscape will be classic, in a hundred maybe laid to waiste. but for now, i look out and think how you and i roamed out there, a renaissance man and his lovely pillow, collecting no moss, throwing no stones, but singing all the wrong words as loud as we could, throwing love at each other like light from the sun at just before noon, eating beef jerky and valium...glad glad glad to be alive, and touching each other as we drove