Driving home in the middle of the night, I always have these aspirations about writing some self evolving piece as soon as I get home because somehow, sobering up and making the drive from Louisville feels like I'm traversing some self awareness vastness and unlocking some serious secrets. But when I get home and undress an crawl into a cold bed, it all scatters from my brain like a breeze clearing out cluttered brown leaves... Then I think, maybe next time...

My life is full of next times.