The process of wenting

Tonight I couldn't wait to get off work so I could go out on a walking adventure. The wind was at zero, the moon was almost full, it was luxuriously cold, and I had a full charge on my tablet, my phone, and my mobile hotspot. Baby, I was ready to go, as Republica said back in '96. They were ready to go too, standing on the rooftops and shouting it out... but that was almost 20 years ago, so I don't know if they're still ready to go, or if they already went, or if they just gave up. I didn't stick around to find out; I went ahead and went.

After all these years I'm still in the process of wenting, I guess, even as I type this, and I'm still wondering where my went is going to wind up... although I'm pretty sure it doesn't matter, because we are all eventually going to wind up up as old farts anyway. Right now I'm still a relatively fresh fart, but I can feel the oldness coming on, and I'm sure it will be here before I even know it.

I don't necessarily mind becoming an old fart, but dang... those ripe ones can really really really really really stink. That's the only thing that worries me... the smell. I hope I don't smell too horrible when I'm a ripe old fart.

Anyway. I think I kind of ruined the mood when I started talking about farts. My original intent was to attempt to describe the indescribable beauty of the night which surrounded me tonight - that's a weird sentence - but I wound up talking about farts somehow. Not that a fart doesn't contain it's own inherent beauty. A fart can be quite a lovely thing! For example - imagine a life without farts. And while you're imagining that, try to imagine that you are appreciating something lovely, after holding in a couple of years worth of farts. I can practically guarantee you that nothing will seem lovely to you after a couple of years of cooking up a crock pot full of pressurized farts... except maybe an actual free-floating fart.

So where was I? Oh yes. Tonight. Dang, it sure was pretty tonight. That's all I really wanted to say, I think. If I could go back and do it again, I would have written more about the awesome beauty and less about the farts. I guess I could go back and do it again, but no.

Anywho. I'ma bed now.