If one picks the scab that is blogging does one bleed?
Up what body does the scab of blogging cover what wound?
I hope Karl stops by.

Today All Saint's Day.
Tomorrow All Soul's Day.
I know which one's for me.

You?

It was a day to be someone else. Just one day. I envy Karl. The grass is always more interesting on the other side of the fence. Over there it's softer. A good place to sleep. Down the street sharper. Keeps them up nights working on their moon-howling. Here it's brown & patchy. Guess that's not altogether uninteresting. But I'm always tempted to use the green spraypaint.
*
Amanda & Xtina sat next to me at the outdoor mass. We sat in chairs on the street but no cars came & we may not have been in their way had they come. I think we were on a deadend in the South End. The priest ignored us. Mark was bored. Looked over at the episcopalians who were walking into their small, elegant church a half-block down the street. I, too, turned & watched them process into their church. The Catholic priest gave up & left while we weren't looking. Joel read the whole time. At least I think it was Joel. When we realized the priest had left we picked up our chairs & headed inside. This, as you've guessed, was a dream. A dream I'm glad I remembered. I thank the power that decided to go out Thursday night.
*
Many of you are w/in walking distance. But I'll have to be satisfied w/ this typing. Hope to see you tomorrow. Yes, you.

slan,
j.c.

Close your eyes. I'm changing.