i was zonked. the water. sun. beatch on street. laid down reading island home. wish i could live on an island. write a memoir. take a cat nap. i cant. jasper was sitting in the same exact place in the kitchen by his bowl. ate some risotto. feeling less inert in general though a risotto inertia in the moment. looked up mute boy. he's just a plain old little tike. originally had a mouth. he's still mute boy to me. didn't have much of a mouth in the first place, a dab of color, wiped off his face, no trace, abandoned in a basement. he's my mute boy, since i rescued him. now he melds with my psycho-history. he's mind. got him for a quarter. found a dollar bill by the rabbit fence. three quarters to the good. mute boy luck.