Between the afternoon rain and the impending storm that may be the evening’s entertainment, Jones and I hustled around the alphabet city loop counterclockwise–down C to 12th and back down E. I’m afraid, I must confess. I’m afraid of that flat-toned certainty. I’m afraid of polls. I’m afraid of complacency. I’m afraid of the country split down the ostensible middle yet again and too close to call and graciousness losing out to the Machiavellian war room. There are metaphors to be found here from the dog park with its bullies & butt smelling, but we didn’t go there today. We walked by ourselves around the mixed bag that is the historic district in downtown Springfield, Oregon, me trying to think about pinot noir and white tea, staying, civilization.
Cat poop consumed: yes
