How a resurrection really feels

Windows open. Boiled peanuts. Whiskey sours. Bruce Springsteen. Wood grain. Flea markets. Records. Barbecue. Singalongs. Motorcycles. Sunglasses. Flasks. Boots. Shirley. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Guns. The Allman Brothers Band. Cast iron cookware. Full moons. Wild Bill Hickock. Homemade ice cream. Lemonade. Irony. Sunsets. Late night conversations. Sunny days. Bob Dylan. Southern culture. Good cigars. Belt buckles. America. The smell of fresh cut wood. Muscle cars. Almost Famous. Sunsets. Old pictures. Old friends. Melissa. Warm breezes. College football. The taste of the cold. The smell of the ocean. Bad horror movies. Hemmingway. Quotes. Bourbon. Home cooked meals. Dollar movies. Pie. Jeans. The British Invasion. The smell of books. Inside jokes. Ghost hunting. Peanut butter. A good nap. The obscure. Thinking. Satire. Rock & Roll. The Band. Toothpicks. The feel of motor oil on my skin. The wind. Turkey 101 and 7-Up. The stars. Lucille. Analog. Ghost hunting. Surprises. Indian motorcycles. The Who. Slide guitar. A good dog. Independence. Rivers and springs. Eccentric people. Hole in the wall restraunts. Highway 98.