Friday, August 30, 2013

Truth, like gold, is to be obtained not by its growth, but by washing away all that is not gold. -Leo Tolstoy




It rained tonight, big drops, and I really enjoy the rain.  When I was younger, it felt like my link to the real world, out of the hecticocity of adolescence, people, and expectations.  I used to sit on the porch and play the F-Stop Blues by Jack Johnson and smell the creosote soaking up the moisture.  (Delicious!)

I would do it still, but Eunice, the 200 pound black widow we fondly keep as a pet on the back porch would get me.  We tried a fly swatter on her today, to no avail.  I guess our experiment tossing slabs of meat out to her was a success, because now she demands them as tribute.

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