i've been a miner for a heart of gold, and i'm gettin' old... neil

sitting at the breakfast table and considering happiness. eating toast and oatmeal, drinking strong coffee and thinking about monday. sorting the whites and colored clothing, digging for quarters in the change bucket thinking about wingless angels sitting at the edge of the sea. pouring the laundry soap into a plastic bottle, stuffing dryer sheets in my pocket...lugging bags of dirty laundry that'll go through the motion of becoming clean again. clean again only to get dirty. digging for a little something deeper, more meaningful, more comforting than right...running up hills to come back down again. hills are more rewarding when you make it to the top. coming down is just going through the motions, i want to climb and climb and climb, where the air is thin and muck doesn't survive. higher than the mediocre, better than just average.