i thought of actually suspending the weblog in silent protest. not actually actually just saying to get r.'s goat somewhere in the desert she's not reading this, to poke her on her return.
haha it is suspended, my most devoted reader, it has always been in suspense. that's a quality i'm not sure of, if it even comes through. it's like one's silence. one is unsure of what it communicates. it's vague yet i count on it's specificity. like that desert she went to. it's vague yet quietly personal and specific. every cactus, every bug, every gain of sand specific. and she is there and yet here in it.

meanwhile as an aside that is also central to the illustration i picked up this goose egg mister found floating in the mud under water by the southern harbor bridge. i carried it around wondering about it's solid weight, it's elegant form, unviable. i marvelled how perfectly it fit in the little abandoned nest in bobolink meadow where no bobolinks go, like the natives that went with them, even before. 

still i must actually say i do not pretend to know what this all means.