Pretty Bad.

The sun finally broke through today at about fourish-thirty and everything got all shot through with yellow and green in all the ways all of the bad songs and poems say they do or did, depending on the era of your bad song or poem. Maybe there's no good way to say The sun broke through the clouds. The clouds parted. A glancing ray of sun snuck through the edges of the furrowed clouds and gave us hope that all prophesies might someday be fulfilled. There was a light in the darkness. There was a light in the considerable darkness. The sun shone on her arm like.

I have been reading some bad goddamned writing at school.

The sun came out. It was pretty. When the sun came out I was myself made happy by it.

And now, your local forecast: more sun, more pretty bad writing. But soon enough it will be May the whatevereth and ANYLF will receive a wee reprieve. Somebody get out the red marker and start Xing off some days, please. It is about time for something like that.