inquiry

Slow, steady rain.

Productive day, the one before.

Today we've on hand (in mind, actually) one of the many special days people have named and forgotten to be special only when – not to mention by virtue of – believing them to be so.

It's one of the many things those considered preeminent members of the species do with great solemnity.

And I'd almost forgotten how much I love Luscious Jackson: “beloved, make it feel like summer”.

Such straight, drab rain – not unlike the hair of a girl homely in an inexplicable way hovering enticingly in the vicinity of can't stop looking.