
The pursuit of refreshments in the summer of teatime.

Even though its doesn’t look nutritious, it’s still on some level energizing.
One of the most refreshing…and grooviest morning I’ve ever had…

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Public library: Sign up for our free seminar on (historical downer).
Community:
Library: We’ll have cookies.
Community: I could stand to learn something. Wait, why is registration full?

I’ve enjoyed Cranberry juice with Crown Royal for a couple years on occasion. Last night was one of those random occasions and the mood struck me to enjoy a couple of them.
Anyone else drink Crown with something out of the ordinary?
I see the lightning from the storm down in Mexico
And I see my speedometer doesn’t work
I cross the desert and disappear into the tumbleweeds
I tip the bottle and bite the lime
I hear the thunder from the storm down in Mexico
And I leave the border far behind
I feel the dust coat my teeth and turn my sweat to mud
I tip the bottle and bite the lime
There ain’t no moral to this story at all
Anything I tell you very well could be a lie
I’ve been away from the living, I don’t need to be forgiven
I’m just waiting for that cold black soul of mine
To come alive
I feel the wind blow from the storm down in Mexico
Gasoline for another hundred miles
I cross the river and leave my shoes up on the other side
I tip the bottle and bite the lime
There ain’t no moral to this story at all
Anything I tell you very well could be a lie
Been away from the living, I don’t need to be forgiven
I’m just waiting for that cold black sun-cracked soul of mine
To come alive
Come alive, yeah
Well, I feel the rain drops from the storm down in Mexico
Truck will go no further, out of gas
I walk through the desert past the lizard and rattlesnake
I tip the bottle and bite the lime
There ain’t no moral to this story at all
Anything I tell you very well could be a lie
There ain’t no morals to these stories at all
And everything I tell you, you can bet will be a lie
I been away from the living, I don’t need to be forgiven
I’m just waiting for that cold black sun-cracked numb-inside soul of mine
To come alive
Come alive, come alive
Come alive.
…Plays which are writ in verse are so tedious: for though, most commonly, the sense is to be confined to the Couplet, yet nothing that does perpetuo tenore fluere, run in the same channel, can please always. ’Tis like the murmuring of a stream, which not varying in the fall, causes at first attention, at last drowsiness. Variety of cadences is the best rule, the greatest help to the Actors, and refreshment to the Audience.
Dryden, An Essay of Dramatic Posey