One-Sentence Journal, Week Seventy-Three

  1. 11/06/2016:  Elk herd, sunset, cheese pizza and an extra hour of sleep.
  2. 11/07/2016:  The caffeine headache came for me in the early afternoon and I, musing on, “What is a man but a trunk-full of addictions?”, fought back with a coffee run.
  3. 11/08/2016:  Staggering out of the hot room this morning after my yoga practice, and two of my fellows were engaged in that special brand of ignorant, meat-headed, shoot-them-all-and-carry-a-shovel anti-wolf rhetoric that makes me seethe with rage more than few other things do, forcing me to haul ass out of there lest I suggest they go fuck themselves, making profane a space I had, until today at least, held somewhat sacred from my general tendency toward misanthropy.
  4. 11/09/2016:  And millions of smug “I’m the smartest person in the room” shitheels are scratching their heads this morning and wondering how what just happened actually happened.
  5. 11/10/2016:  Happy birthday, Dad, I wish you could have seen this.
  6. 11/11/2016:  “We don’t need you.”
  7. 11/12/2016:  My feet itch to catch up to my wandering mind.

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Author: Chris

Chris La Tray is a writer, a walker, and a photographer. He is an enrolled member of the Little Shell Tribe of Chippewa Indians and lives in Missoula, MT.

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