Ninja Motorhome |dot| com

The wind was wild and the snow was this blinding, stinging thing that was out for blood. In the distance, up in the trees I saw a shadowy,apelike figure with evil red eyes peering down to the warmth of the fire and fragrant wisps of booze and cigars. I couldnt see past the night or through the bright light of my rooftop-flagpole spotlight so I thought I could move it and pierce the forest, determing what this foul beast was. I grabbed the roof ladder by its second rung and with a mighty lunge into the fray, pulled myself to halfway up the motorhome. The wind howled in rage at my progress and threatened to needle me off my dangerous perch yet still I climbed. Reaching the top I leaned into the blizzard, lurching one foot ahead of the other only to get knocked back violently and over the side of the black brig I sailed every weekend. Still wearing my bulky snowboard boots I got hung up, twisted in the ladder but didnt hit the ground, instead I hung there inverted in agony, violently suspended in the weather, my knee hanging the rest of my body by a tendon, visibly and terribly displaced. Mere feet away my bro’s told stories and laughed around a large fire, oblivious to the terror nearby. I hung on that ladder-meatrack for hours, at one point death passed by, swirling around my twisted leg and mocking the flask that lay below, fallen from my pocket.

No really, I slipped on ice. Like a bitch-boy.
Heres a new mix from my long forgotten station @ eight-tracks dot com.
An ode to my Winter.