Went on a quick hike at Blackwater Falls State Park last week. Most trails were closed due to deep snow and the steepness to the ravine where the waterfalls were in the far distance. Still was a beautiful walk–one of those quiet moments when you can only hear your footsteps in the snow and your own breathing.
I am weak-willed and made a Don’t Starve playlist whOOPS
track list 1 Eat You Alive - The Oh Hellos 2 Exile Vilify - The National 3 Hey, Little Songbird - Anaïs Mitchell & Greg Brown 4 Jericho - The Stone Foxes 5 Black Eyes - Radical Face 6 Friend of the Devil - Lalla Rookh 7 Mercy Street - Leaving the Ozone 8 In the Pines - Janel Drewis 9 Bury Me Under the Weeping Willow - Antique Persuasion 10 Dead & Gone - Brother Dege 11 Georgia on My Mind - Ray Charles 12 Cotton-Eyed Joe - Hobart Crabtree 13 Jerusalem Ridge - Erik Paquette 14 Samson - Regina Spektor 15 The Prince - The Silent Comedy 16 No Children - Mountain Goats 17 Slow Train Drag - The Sleepwater Band 18 The Girl Who Wept Stones - Brother Dege 19 Run Daddy Run - Miranda Lambert fea. Pistol Annies 20 Pluto - Sleeping At Last 21 You Gotta Move - Scott H Biram 22 Papa Hobo - Paul Simon 23 Black Water - Of Monsters and Men 24 Hello - Adele 25 I Am Just A Pilgrim - The Chestnut Grove Quartet
The term is 'complicated grief'. But it's simple, isn't it? A young girl... Her parents don't get along. She blames herself, as all children do. Then Daddy dies. What’s a girl to do? Deny that Daddy died. Deny who Daddy was. What seven-year-old actually knows who their parents are anyway.
The real Universe arched sickeningly away beneath them. Various pretend ones flitted silently by, like mountain goats. Primal light exploded, splattering space-time as with gobbets of junket. Time blossomed, matter shrank away. The highest prime number coalesced quietly in a corner and hid itself away forever.
The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
In our relations with people who are bashful about their feelings, we must be capable of dissimulation; they feel a sudden hatred against anyone who catches them in a tender, enthusiastic, or elevated feeling, as if he had seen their secrets. If you want to make them feel good at such moments, you have to make them laugh or voice some cold but witty sarcasm; then their feeling freezes and they regain power over themselves. But I am giving you the moral before telling the story.
There was a time in our lives when we were so close that nothing seemed to obstruct our friendship and brotherhood, and only a small footbridge separated us. Just as you were about to step on it, I asked you: “Do you want to cross the footbridge to me?” –Immediately, you did not want to any more; and when I asked you again, you remained silent. Since then mountains and torrential rivers and whatever separates and alienates have been cast between us, and even if we wanted to get together, we couldn’t. But when you now think of that little footbridge, words fail you and you sob and marvel.
“Over the footbridge.” The Gay Science, Friedrich Nietzsche