now the snow is melted. hot inside, couldn't sleep, bowie's song five years in my head. and fretting about the note i wrote about charlie and the muzzle. i think that idea set me off. it's a delicate thing with people and dogs, and sometimes i don't know how to put things. i have an emotional response and then have to put it in words and it can be awkward. especially in the omnichronic dailiness. if something is intended to work out it does. if it doesn't something else does. i try to be sober and methodical and conscientious, but it's an awkward dance sometimes. 

 tomorrow i think we'll get off some season's greeting cards and finally the book of mister. and laundry as we watch the terrible industry of obamaland from the window.