I'm sitting in a darkened motel room as I write this, looking out the window at the carpet of lights that are the last city we play for the season.
The silence is deafening, the big "Merry Go Round" has finally stopped.
I have a lot of stories to tell, but they'll go in the big pot of memories I have and come out this winter among the rest of the tales I'll write here.
I can't go in chronological order, my scattered mind doesn't work like that. Everything will come out as it should, let the chips fall where they may.
I have no idea where I'm going next, where I'm going to winter that is. I am going home for a bit, for the first time in 14 years, I don't know if I'll stay though.
My woman's sleeping.
I can see her sexy shape under the covers, unmoving, dreaming, catching up on all those late nights of screwing we did this summer, when we should have been sleeping, resting for the next days grind on the Midway.
Why she was screwing this "old guy" is beyond me, I won't look a gift horse in the mouth though.
Everything is so fucking quiet and still, except me, the Midway is still ringing in my head, I haven't adjusted yet, but I will.
The girlfriend has been getting pissed off at me these last couple of nights, telling me to come to bed. I can't sleep though, my brain is still in high gear and will be for a couple weeks yet, it's the way I am.
She finally resigns herself to the fact that I'm not coming to bed and go's back to her dreams.
Me? I"ll just sit here in the dark watching the lights of the city, smoking, wondering where the fuck the summer went.