my head feels like a solid cloud slowly melting.

 death race america. in america we race to work, we race home, we race to the store, we race to recreate, we race to the death.

what i'm a gonna do when the snows go and it's weeks before next winter. i'll be convulsing in flowers.

how much can you do with a dog? i'll see. i can't do anything much with people. i'm pretty good with insects though. the pointers, i just follow and feebly guide their eccentricities, much like i do my own. fen is a little imperious with other dogs and i'd like to humble that; he's water phobic too, and i got him to proudly walk through puddles, so here's hoping. lucy, well she was shot up by hillbillies and though oddly she seems to adore people she may freak if she hears a redneck, and she can be a right helen wheel with other doggies and i want to socialize her into mellow lightsomeness, but i am no trainer and work with the funny attributes of instinct conditioned by karma and generally luckily mild insanity. as with the teeniest location in space and the brawling human world, i can only try to stay tuned.