Despite the fact that it’s eminently swimmable, there’s a glacial tinge to the waters up here that feeds something primal inside me.

I feel like it’s recharging. Connecting.

Communing, even.

I spent most of our trip on the pontoon boat thinking about sinking to the bottom and laying for a while.

I’d like it to be my final resting place. Not rotting in the woods (although maybe rotting in the woods).

But frozen, down there.

Waiting.

Target: 800 words
Written: 784 words, novella: The Mungk

Read: Brothers Of Earth, CJ Cherryh (so slow going and not because it's not good; no one will leave me alone to read more than a page or two)
Comics: The Crow: Death And Rebirth 4-5, The Crow: Skinning The Wolves 1-2
Music: Random Shit - Ben Harper, Anti-Flag, Green Day, Gnarkill, Guns 'n' Roses