Last night was another lightning storm. Parking above the highway, I found it's an interesting section of road. No one goes over it, really, but it's still by definition an "overpass". The lightning was rippling through clouds, the kind that doesn't touch down but stays in the cloud, either pitchforking on the underbelly of silver/gray clouds, or shrouded behind them. To the north, the lihts of the suburbs quietly shone, and to the east, the mountains and the city. I sat on the car and listened to Portishead and watched the occational car race by underneath me.

I don't know why I've become so obsessed recently with just being by myself at these hours. I find it really rewarding to sit and enjoy the night air. It's not something that I get to smell often, that style of air that makes me feel so young. Around even the bass and beats of Portishead, I could hear crickets, too. It's such a collision of nature and industry - fields surrounding a strech of major tollway concrete. Curious. Not esoteric to Colorado, but unique just the same.

I would remark here that I had major thoughts about any of a number of life-affecting things, but the fact is, I was about as vacant as the roadways that night. Just me, being. Part of me wondered if I was getting a bit new-age, that I should listen to Enya instead of Portishead, but I dashed that thought because I was enjoying myself. heh. But we'll see if I write a self-help book soon or not.

I'm getting sleepy. Tomorrow my friend from Italy comes in and I'm excited. Goodnight, bowl of mush,

Jared