happy mothers day downy woodpecker.

 i don't wish to belabor this journal thing, dad knows, i don't wish to labor much at all. just a few notes so i might google my memory one day. dad used to say he had a novel in the bottom drawer in college when the unexpected flower bob snuck out of mom and displaced the novel for a crib in said bottom drawer. which sounds cool but was a lie he later said. then he said (later still) he thought i had an book in me. i said i don't think so, unless this journal is it, and it's out. but he dismissed this as untenable, as i recall or word to that effect. so maybe wrote the book, or wrote it every day, never to the end, or to end the way we do. if wife #3 does not see fit to tender the journal of the dead to me, then i'll just keep on reading, and writing the unwritten book.