• Hey, look. Beans for Breakfast is the title of a Johnny Cash song.
  • I tried to rent Human Nature the other day. But the two video stores that I went to only had the movie on DVD. Neither store was stocking a VHS copy. (Now I’m officially behind the times.)
  • There’s a superfluous zipper-pull on my jacket that’s pulled down the front zipper. It’s gotten kind of loose lately. After I’ve been wearing the jacket for awhile, the zipper-pull creeps up the zipper a few inches. So I’ve found myself having to pull it back down again whenever I’ve been out walking around, a motion which I suspect doesn’t look entirely unlike someone surreptitiously adjusting his fly.

Like Any Other

Within the span of an hour there’s a shift from heavy rain to a cloudless sky. Later a bulky purple-gray cloud passes across the sun. A number of low clouds are being carried by the wind at a faster speed than the large cloud; and they’re gone by the time it’s allowed the sun to shine through again. Now the sky is covered with an entirely different variety of clouds. The quality of the light is changing constantly.

We usually experience the day as a long steady shift from darkness to light to darkness again marked by handful of exceptional phenomena – sunrise, sunset, dusk. This day was filled with notable light changes, so the day seemed to pass more quickly. It always seemed like the sunset would be coming along at any minute.


A grey grey day: Grey sky, grey plants, grey buildings, grey streets, grey rain filling grey puddles.

Only a few splashes of color: A red Honda parked nearby. A red Jeep parked across the street – (its headlights were left on). A pink and blue flyer pasted to a (grey) lamppost beside the Jeep. Half a block down the hill, a billboard (dimly lit by an overhead light) printed in fluorescent colors. Beneath the billboard, a pale blue phone booth, its hood is decorated by a backlit sign bearing one of the local phone company’s old names. (Everything else is sky, plants, buildings, streets, and rain – grey.)