I can't believe the three day weekend is evaporating so quickly.
Yesterday's Indy race was one of the best I've seen in years.
Rain is hanging in the air awaiting the right moment to let loose. We've had some minor showers but it definitely looks like something is being held back for later.
I haven't read enough this weekend. I did crack open the book Honey & Junk by Dana Goodyear on Friday. It's not a new read for me, but I was finding it even more provoking as I was reading it it this time.
A few journal bits of mine from recent days...
- the pewter face - going elsewhere / in the evening of prime / of expendable time / when fireflies play
- Wednesday is like being in the middle of nowhere
- stars buried from sight / co-dependent choruses of owls / sing to the night / sing to the measure of conformity