Its been a good long while since I've had the patience to sit in front of my computer.

  To be truthful my computer gives me the bitter, thick taste of having drunk too much bourbon and the knee jerk reaction of saying "I'm no good at computers" because I don't get the instant gratification of the uppers and downers of the past. But here I am, refusing to be beaten by the past and posting another photo of my kitchen window.
  It may be that this corner is generally where the coffee is kept, but there's something else that keeps me coming back to stare at the roofs covered in pine needles between myself and the big red house.
 It could be the books of recipes I've never followed or the
the touring bike that hasn't had fulfilled its potential yet,
I don't really understand.

This cricket pitch is another place I frequently visit without really understanding.  I've spent hours watching the games here and I feel as lost as I once did in my own head trying to follow the play. However, at least I know that its the sense of culture in the incomprehensible chatter from the players and the colonial ghost I like to think inhabit this corner of Beacon Hill that keep me coming back.