I took my drink out for a drink

[ThirstyDrunk]

There is an eerie winter fog laying over Xenia. Still in my PJ pants from last evening I ventured outside. The fog has an effect on my mind, the air has a sound, the atmosphere hums.It's dark so close your eyes or not your senses adjust.
Smoked about half a bowl and in that time my drink absorbed from the atmosphere, reduced by .02 proof. and it was extra tasty. I usually drink my bourbon as neat as it can be but I must say that this bourbon mixed with just enough moisture from nature it was enhanced. I don't think thisd would work from summer heat humidity, I think it needs to be a cold dank sweat, when the cumulus clouds are your level.
Someone might get it, most of you weirdos won't.
Cheers anyway

[Savage]

Snow in bourbon is nice. Too bad the only times I lived where it snowed, was when I was underage, and when I was pregnant or a nursing mother, or just too damn busy most of the time with all those kids and work and Grumpy to even remember about that cold white stuff outside.

[Badfellow]

Snow fog and bourbon are an ethereal pairing. But aren't you worried about booze tentacles and other beasties materializing from the mist?

[mistah willies]

...the air has a sound, the atmosphere hums. It's dark so close your eyes or not your senses adjust.

It's a belief that the crows record our existence, so it's wise to travel before the light. Gather only the things that you can trade, or wouldn't want to leave behind.

(There is no exit from anywhere. When you go back into a room to remember what you left for, you've not returned. There is only forward motion.)

In the dark hours before the squirrels grab their hats and briefcases, before the crows squawk their recordings onto the surface of the wind, there is a silence that speaks between the stillness. Those are the stones to collect.

[Patchez]

...the air has a sound, the atmosphere hums. It's dark so close your eyes or not your senses adjust.

In the dark hours before the squirrels grab their hats and briefcases, before the crows squawk their recordings onto the surface of the wind, there is a silence that speaks between the stillness. Those are the stones to collect.

Mr. Lamar you use your tongue purttier then a 20 dollar whore.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8d8h1lbzoHY