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The shades were drawn and the candles were lit. It was a perfect afternoon for diversion. Frills adorned the windows and firelight shadows played havoc on the retina. Irregular pulses surge directly in, mesmerizing on every level.

Falling into the fabric of time, melding into light. Glimmers of hope, pride and lust lovingly thrust themselves into her mind. Mere shards of reality, just enough to feel alive. Exquisite pain.

It had been a full week since she’d last eaten. Milk was scarce and the insects she’d been eating simply weren’t doing her any good. The taste they left in her mouth was awful. Just barely surviving.

A wafting scent of smoke made her heart jump. Danger was near, gather the brood. Must get everyone to the river. Another chord struck, a direct connection, from nose to brain.

Quick, the river is this way.

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Just a sad old man sitting there. Not thinking about much, a blank expression masks his utter contempt. For his surroundings had become commonplace. Sheer frustration manifested itself as a tiny ball in the pit of his stomach. Needling there like a thread of molten copper into his psychic armor.
It was the shaped charge of high explosives that propelled the thread. Sharper and more penetrating than even a thought or harsh feeling. He was a terse individual. Not much phased him, a threadbare suit kept him insulated. These clothes, they represented more than mere coverings. They were shelter. A place to hide. Woven threads providing so much more than warmth.
Defying gravity between the waves. Particles held together by forces unseen in cosmic foreplay. Providing the old man with exactly what he needed.
Bristling under the yoke of good taste, the man shuddered against the wind. It bit right through his hide.
Decisions and derision, spitting verse and professing profanity.
It was nice to see him smile at a little girl playing nearby. Reminiscent, caring, thoughtful, proud.
There will be a time to combine all the elements of your life into a rounded cube. Let it bounce off others as it may. Only your will may guide it’s passage.
-Austin

Funny things start happening in the middle of the night. Witching hours between daylight’s rise and night’s fullest manifestation fall around 2 and 4 a.m.
In the mountains, life seems at an ebb during the darkest and coldest hours of the night. The calm before the storm, so to speak. One of the reason folks feel good at altitude is the rarity of moment. It always seems the less oxygen the more deliberate, precise and economical one’s movements become. It feels like the energy is hard to come by up here.
At times the torpor of the vampiric night dwellers creeps up on the unsuspecting. It’s like drifting between REM sleep and the morning sheets.
Careening on twilight, time to venture to work.
-Austin

Life affords us few real moments.
Here’s an attempt to capitalize on one of those rare times when the ego lets go and it gets real. Really scary, really tense, really silly.
The time comes in a hurry, usually. Shifts in a person’s normal demeanor and constitution can cause a slip.
Here’s a taste of the bittersweet surrender of the beard. Had to get a real job, again.
Cheers,
-Austin

It's only now that AR's facial hair is partially purged.

It's only now that AR's facial hair is partially purged.

And only the mustache can be a fun surprise. Only the truly narcissistic take photos of themselves like this, disgusting.

It's just the mustache, you see?

It's just the mustache, you see?

Little dogs don’t know they are little. Barking and showing their mettle comes naturally, instinctively.
There are folks who walk around the lake while on vacation. Normally, these folks don’t appear out of place. This is vacation-land, of course.
The race cauldron created when rich meets poor, particularly in a resort area, makes for a fine stew. Protein provided by the workers, the tenderloin, surrounding the backbone of the community. Servers, dishwashers, security guards and night auditors gather around the lake in a silent dance of melting humanity. Grieving societal content.
Never fear the lack of grief, for its consequences are often delayed in onset.
That’s enough for now.
Stay tuned.

There was a pedometer involved. The readings went like this: 9,172 steps resulting in 4.34 miles burning 709 Kcals over a time of 1 hour and 23 minutes. Averaged 14.13 in 0.8 mile increments. Sunny, mild, windy, temperature of between 32 and 40 degrees. Gorgeous.

Boring, but it’s my life now.

One of Rob Capone's famous ice mugs.

One of Rob Capone's famous ice mugs.

Here’s a breakdown from Tuesday, Feb 14
– walking
I made it to the track at roughly 10:15 am. there were lots of folks on the trail. Mothers with sledding children; fathers making up for lost time.
Nice day, about 40 degrees F.
4.4 miles in 9,299 steps.
Walked for 1 hour and 21 minutes by the pedometer’s count. decent. made 0.8 mile laps in just under 14 minutes. not bad for the gimp.

– video golf with Roxy
Dana G and Collin B stopped by for a round of Tiger Woods. Held my own. Love to have my character closely resemble myself. quality.

– Beaver Creek cafe
Dana G and I met Nancy and her father for a quick paperwork run accompanied by some coffee at a swank gelato store. At the base of the escalator, this was a great place to see Euros on parade, truly rich folk and dedicated hill dwellers. Gondola rides were nice from Avon to ‘the Landing’ so yeah, that was nice over the Eagle River and Hwy 6.

– ice mugs
Buddy Rob Capone carved some ice for a Left Hand Brewery beer tasting at Avon Liquor. right downstairs. CarniVail is in town, so there’s not a gob of action, there. Although it turned out quite busy, as the tasting coincides with their highest traffic period.

The photo ice one of the ice mugs, I drank some Campari from the ice mug. delicious.

-Austin

It’s a walker’s world out there, for sure.
How else could a soul take in all that nature has to offer?
You can smell the spring.
It’s a cross between pine needles and dog crap.
Take an adventure around Nottingham Lake in Avon, Colorado, with me on a regular basis by tuning in to this blog.
Sometimes shocking, other times hawking, but forever stalking.
Try for a photo each day as well.
Listening to the “Grace Under Pressure” live album by Rush from 1984.

Here’s three things
-Never pass up a bathroom after the age of 60
-Never waste a hard on
and
-Never trust a fart

— it’s a quote from “The Bucket List” by Jack Nicholson, so when you say it use your best “The Shining” accent … “Wendy, gimme the bat, Wendy .. gimme the bat.”
or perhaps Ronald Reagan … “Mommy, give me the bat ; Mommy?”

Here are some stats; there’s a chance the stats will become a hallmark of this communication. It means a lot to me, walking in circles.

-Austin

Here's a photo by Preston Utley

Here's a photo by Preston Utley

Stone cold Chooglin' with A-train

Stone cold Chooglin' with A-train

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