F......K.....S
Notes I write for myself.
F......K.....S
searched: my heart takes me many places.
I go adventuring.
Pieces get snagged and left behind. 
Logical?
Perfectly On Benadryl
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"This is the pillow that I dream on."
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"Has it been five years? Six? It seems like a lifetime. The kind of peak that never comes again. San Francisco in the middle 60’s was a very special time and place to be a part of. But no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive, in that corner of time in the world… Whatever it meant. There was madness in any direction. At any hour, you could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right. That we were winning. And that I think was the handle. That sense of inevitable victory over the forces of old and evil. Not in any mean or military sense. We didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. We had all the momentum. We were riding the crest, of a high and beautiful wave. So now, less than five years later, you go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look west. And with the right kind of eyes – you can almost see the high watermark – that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."
We could go left or right on the labeled trails… or we could go straight on the one that’s unlabeled. 
It led straight to a hoodlum hangout and then up a steep embankment, at which point the small trail disappears completely, leaving us in a forest of stinging nettles.
What nice maneuvering skills we have.