This is where I'm supposed to be right now. I flaked out on my friend and sent him off alone for a camping trip I couldn't quite face. I was scared off by the prediction of cool, rainy weather and my own drive to stay home and write. I rarely have the compulsion to push through a gnarled mess of overwritten scenes and incomplete thoughts so I had to take it.

At the end of a day lost in words, there is part of me that feels like I've missed out. What beautiful scenery did I fail to admire? What great belly-laugh of a joke did I miss? And yet when I get that weird compression of time that comes with hard concentration, I only want more. Where can I lock myself away? Somewhere with a nice view would be good so that at least my subconscious would be able to enjoy the real world while the rest of me was lost in an imaginary one.