2010, candles lit, arms limber and my raft feels taught strung, downriver gliding, huckfinnish and not a cloud in site (today), cold though, which was o.k. since a gentleman needs one good discomfort a day to worry over. Which I didn't for long, but instead pulled out my USGS NC maps and am in on a new route.

But first I have my gear set out for ice fishing, which in a way is an excuse to make my way far from any semblance of City, which, along with cellular phone waves, I find to be "capital" -the- croker sack of unhealth, fouled charm and general human misfortune. But the fishing, well, let's say one might call it an excuse, or a way to tie a hard hoisted arrow West to my future, realigned for magnetic declination, which is a joke anyway because I never have any clue where I'm headed, and I'm bad with a bow. But Missoula, then Portland, Seattle, Vancouver. I will get there.  

What I am trying to get across is this: new year / more adventure /cities can be fine / but a man needs to flee before he makes it home.

This is critical for the mental health of a being not designed for pavement and horns. Damn, I need to learn how to act in the midst of it though. And if I wanted to come up with a resolution, as is the custom of city dwellers, I would hope that every supper had was a meal well earned.

Tides swell in coastal rivers, and the raft bumps along. Before long, we dream. Goodnight.