Ross Evertson by Jenn Nelson

Denver, Colorado 2007

A forecast calling for 3 inches over 2 days. Outside, 4 inches and it isn’t even 9 o’clock yet. I’m not complaining, but just wait until tomorrow when I have to drive 600 miles to Ice City, Missouri.

I’m neither religious nor into holidays (or winter for that matter), but I don’t usually mind excuses to get together. Unfortunately, we’re not together. Jenn gets in tonight, then she and I as well as my brother and father go to KC to meet up with my mom and aunt to attend the funeral. Holidays 2007 - -

Pine, Colorado 2007

This fall the god of men with small dicks found me in the saddle of a stranger’s speedy motorcycle on a semi-regular basis. I was lucky enough to probably put more miles on it than he had a chance to yet, as well as properly scrub in his Dunlops. All in a pair of CMYK Adidas, like a total unsafe twat.

The bike is now in some garage, behind a driveway of snowpack, dreaming of all of my weight pressing down on the left peg, my right knee digging down into the tank with just a single furry cheek clenching onto the seat.

And I sit hoping that the yellow Japanese turd doesn’t get picked up by its owner and that it somehow finds an extra 50hp somewhere in the cold.

Denver, Colo. 2007

Old women sleeping on suburban couches.

Denver, Colo. 2006
My first winter back from Los Angeles was the worst I have ever experienced.  I am under the impression that it will be ending soon.

Denver, Colo.