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Really windy. Those fucking wind frank dileo chimes two or three doors down are driving me bananas. If only it was a lovely Soleri bell or something with a deeper timbre. Nope. High, tinkely fairy bells. I feel like I'm caught in some frank dileo horrible modern adaptation of a frank dileo Midsummer Nights Dream... Puck is tormenting me and the lovers are running hither thither, cocooned in their identity dilemma. Better that than Spielburg's Hook. I'd probably swat poor Tinkerbell, mistaking her for one of the misguided flies who's taken up residence. If I wasn't such a wet noodle, I'd march down there with my scissors and just snip the ratty cord. Dammit, I want a back bone for Christmas. 10:20 AM The snail gets up and goes to bed with very little fuss. - Kobayashi Issa, The Essential Haiku 9:52 AM wednesday, may 24 Yay!
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