A Thousand Miles From Nowhere

Put on a playlist and see-a where goes. It was a good show last night, the last one. Another week and I would've really started grooving. I wasn't mobbed like the last time, but I got a few sideways double takes, and a few spoke up sincerely. The best was from her old man. He was surprised by what he found. Very impressed. Said my performance was understated, which in my cutting mind seemed like a swipe at other performances. ( Editor's note: Strike this line. Or don't.) Almost made the whole thing worthwhile.
I talked with a kid last night about his writing. He's a good scribe, but is scared to write, scared to send it out. I told him to read four hours a day and write four hours a day. I've read four hours today myself, now I'm just looking for a seed. I could write what I know, but what I know right now isn't very readable. Hope the music can take me, but it's never done so before. I should jump. Geronimo! (Gah!) Here:

I lit out for the holler just before ten that night. It was a good a time as any. I had heard the weather was going to be biblical, and while it had gotten there for a short while that morning, it hadn't returned. I had hoped it could forestall the inevitable, but, now, go NOW, no time is a good time.
I hadn't been to the holler since leaving for good (I hoped, I thought) after the old man died. It was never a good place for me. Not never. Once. Yes, it was once.
I didn't know if it was still a bitch to poke your way into, and I hoped my car would make it. I would probably find both questions to be answered yes. Some things can't help but be done.

Continued.

Eh, maybe I won't continue it. It has no where to go, and my eyes are crossing from reading case law all weekend.