After respite of unexpected bright winter sunshine, everyone is stating the obvious. It’s raining. The statement is void of inflection and as flat as the grey cloud ceiling, no far horizon, no gradations, no edges or rips in the fabric of this gauzy heaven. It’s just the inside of massive clouds, a calm vaporous ocean, and the rain is more mist than rain, saturating, not exactly falling. At dusk the sunlight will shine across the face of the earth, and with any luck or by the grace of God the conditions of moist air and prismatic effects of light may conspire in a rainbow.
Been sick and busy too, and last night after teaching dance I went with S to a birthday party. We drank red wine and ate decent pizza, and a full ensemble --complete with guitars and drums and saxophone and bongos and tambourine and flute too-- rock and roll band played cover songs, and I danced with my best girl. She was happy because they played the Doors, and any cover band whose one-good-eye steel-grey-hair lead singer doesn’t screw around when he’s singing Jim Morrison is a good band.
They played honky tonk, they played rockabilly and blues, they played upbeat and raucous and wake the neighbors. They even played a song dedicated to their neighbor, who always calls the cops when they practice in the garage. But it was a weeknight so we headed home after cake, and were in bed by eleven.
Today is the day of expectations, often exaggerated, rarely met. S & I don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day. Our first Valentine’s Day together was spent washing skunk spray off the dog, and then a
