hey howzabout the weather.  purty wet ’round these parts, i tell you whut.  maybe not rainin’ cats and dogs, nay, mere puppies and kittens, tumblin’ from on high, soft steady and endless.  solar powered things lie fallow in the yard.  look around, lisa brown, the sky is that hazy shade.  the worm turns.  rather, the quadrillion ton of invasive worm turns, and those who feast upon such things cavort where they are flushed from the earth.  that’s a miserable looking banquet, but joy is where you find it.  for my part, i’m gonna tuck into an unquiet species of torpor, and see what dreams come, in the moments when they are permitted.

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