birds don't care. birdsong out the window is beautiful right now to me... but to the bird... who knows... a complaint... a territorial marker... a cry of lust from another dark breast.... why should this gap in perception matter. there's the bird. here am i. and flowers have no idea what kinds of crazy stuff they do to us. they just do it. they've got their business; we've got ours. mine is to pop out there with my scissors to snip off the too-early buds sucking too much energy. i guess that's how it works. now my fingers smell like geranium pie.

mornings 8-12 with the yearbook. i don't do much - help with a minor tech problem, check some spelling, fix a sentence here and there, attach a name to a photo face, drink some decaf and wonder what they heck i've got myself into for the coming year when yearbook becomes a class that i'm "teaching" but not teaching.

and the rain and the rain comes down. comes down.

i'm thinking and keeping my mouth shut. i'm thinking about all the empty spots, thinking it's best to leave them alone since they're not really empty. i'm just blind to what's there... may never see.

those brown splotches on the tall pine aren't cones and aren't disease. they are flowers. another invitation.

spent close to thirty bucks today for two cans of shaving cream, eight razor blades, and a tube of toothpaste. that's it. money is ridiculous. good for a laugh. silly. how can anybody ever dance with money on the brain. the lady at the checkout told me to have a nice day as if she really meant it. that was odd. so i said "you too" as if i really meant it. as if we weren't imperfect strangers.

cat don't like no thunder.

I have found that all ugly things are made by those who strive to make something beautiful, and that all beautiful things are made by those who strive to make something useful.

Oscar Wilde