rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,


The storm vanished and left behind another splendid spring day, but I didn't get outside much. My stiff joints are really going to miss that walk I didn't take this evening.

No matter how carefully I listen, I can't hear a single cricket chirping now. I wonder if they all drowned in the rain?

Half an hour ago there was something larger I was intending to say but it's gone and left only these fragments. I'm so absent minded anymore.

I can't say I'm terribly upset about Kurt Vonnegut, but I really miss the hell out of Kilgore Trout.

That's all, I guess. The day's remains are vanishing and there's nothing I can do about it. So that last line goes here.

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