Nighttime down in my bunker. Alone. Can't seem to shake the feeling of not belonging on this planet. At least not in this time period. I wish they would send me back from whence I came.....the mid 1800s......I think. I'm not sure though. The only thing for certain is I'm not from this era. If I'm to stay, here in the present, a revolution needs to happen. A renaissance of sorts. A time of art and music, good bread, and heavy cast iron power tools from the 1950s. Beards and pocket watches, pretty dresses, old Colt pistols, and Boraxo hand soap. I want a fucking pocket watch! I want a day without a text message. Just breathing in the sunshine. How about a day skipping rocks with Andy Griffith?
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