Bumpy Ride.

The dog's not right—we've got storms coming in—and there's a new hum: the SECU building on Market threw a bearing or something up in its air handler and now there's a hum. Hum II. Friends and fans of the forecast will remember Hum I (see: late September, 2009), and AMR has already threatened both divorce and bodily harm unless I can come to grips with this lesser hum, and soon, but: goddamnit.

In other news: Finches, I think, in the already dying ferns on the front porch. Baby thrashers and robins and wrens taking flying lessons in the back yard all weekend. The circular saw bounced a springloaded switch off into the yard and now will not operate, and the springloaded switch, owing to its springloadedness, is gone and gone. The last side of the shed, though, is sided. As soon as I can caulk the seams, I can call the city. The one-year mark of the building permit looms. I think if we hit it with no final inspection that the city burns the building to the slab as a firefighting exercise. AMR has also threatened bodily divorce and harm should I not get the giant sinking pit of money city-sanctified by the appropriate date. One does not blame her.

Puppet show, puppet show. Draft floating through Manhattan. Long unscripted days. A new hum. Perhaps I'll step out there into it and see if what's lighting up Winston is visible here yet. And again I think of Alabama, and again, and again.