the built world makes its own weather. wind tunnels that would lay you down and roll you like dough, autopilots that would score you with radial and steel belt and will. not. stop.

the gertrude book didn't cause wonder, it just made me think g.'s material was fame as much as words. now i'm reading chantal akerman, my mother laughs, and i was thinking she writes steinian sometimes, it's like an inner gertrude pops out. she writes pain and person, while gertrude writes more oblique and things slip out amazing sometime but her person seems more constructed. 

i do love watching storms while warm and dry.