Wednesday, February 16, 2011

New Draft.

Just because I did not manage to speak to you of things weather yesterday does not mean that there was none: It was straightforwardly late winter out there, a breeze, a chilly morning, a fire in the shed well into the afternoon. There was, as there is this morning, an underlying warmth, even in the thirties. There was not what we're seeing now, though, which is a truly lovely skate of high strange clouds through the southern sky. We look like another town entirely out there this morning, a town closer to a larger body of water. We do not look landlocked and featureless. And forget all about late winter for the next five days, friends and fans of the sudden change of season. Your Gate City highs for the next five days look like this, say your tax dollars at meteorological work: 60, 65, 73, 65, 62. Something's going to bloom early and get crushed on March 10th. You heard it here first.

For the first time in a very long time the Toad at school does not mean a fire in the stove, a slow bleed of words. Instead, magically, impossibly, it means a trip to whatever Kinko's is called now to have the thing copied twice or thrice and bound all pretty and in the lucky style so that there might be by god and by hand line editing, so that we might see if indeed the new thing is the new thing, so that we might just send the fucker off to the big boys in Gotham to see what they think, to see if they want to take another ill-advised chance on another three hundred pages of mayhem and foolishness and underskilled kissing. Surely we'll have to get someone involved to teach me to end a sentence. Surely we'll need some of these comma clauses surgically removed.

There is a yellow Camaro in it. There are also boats. And parachutes.

Copy store, gas station, grocery store, copy store, home. Maybe the ink pen store, too. Then Toad needs. Then more Toad needs. That is one way to have a day.

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