Hibernation is heavy on me like a sand blanket in a sensory room. I've never actually been under a sand blanket in a sensory room, Ruby told me about the one at North Adams regional psychic ward when I visited her there, next to us was a woman strapped to a bed singing 'My Way'.
A friend goes off to jail this week for a crime he committed in a past life. I imagine he's gonna be hanging out all day drawing, reading books, eating snacks, meeting cool people, finding god, is gonna emerge a changed man like Malcolm X- although my friend doesn't need any readjusting on the path to righteousness. I'm jealous, I could use a vacation. Plus he'll be forced to quit smoking.
'Winter as incarceration' is one weak metaphor at play here. I wish I were in New Mexico. Love and prayers to Vitamin D, and maybe they'll let him out of his vacation early.