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Anticipation [Jan. 26th, 2014|07:09 pm]
I overspent on my last shopping trip of the month. There was one costly item that couldn't be put off any longer, though, and that accounted for most of the excess, while there was nothing more that could be removed from the list. Even at that I forgot one thing that I've forgotten now for three weeks in a row. Why do I keep forgetting vinegar, even though it's on the list? Is there something in my subconscious that doesn't like coleslaw and is trying to prevent me from making it? My cabbage is going to go bad before can I use it up.

Aside from that, and the final removal of the detritus from the mulberry tree that got trimmed yesterday, it was a normal dull Sunday, though (not surprisingly) unseasonably warm. The good news is that the percentage chance of rain next week has been increased, moved closer, and extended to four days instead of three. There could now be rain as early as Tuesday, with increasing chances on Wednesday and Thursday, and a lingering chance on Friday. If even one day turns out wet I'll be happy.

It's supposed to start clouding up tomorrow, so this will be my last night to look at the stars for several days. It's too bad the moon is rising so late. I keep falling asleep before it arrives and don't get to see it. How can I be expected to retain a proper degree of lunacy if I never see Luna?

Sunday Verse

because property crimes are not defined as acts of violence

by daphne gottlieb

it's not what he did, it's how
he did it so when I say he stole my heart
I mean he stole
my heart as if he sidled up
to my car at night
smashed the window with a crowbar
jerked the door open
threw the newspaper, the ice scraper into the street
decapitated the bobblehead cat
that was nodding sweetly on the dash
and then ripped out the stereo--he
didn't just grab the faceplate--
he tore the whole box out
bent and scraped the area around it
didn't clip the end of the wires
just yanked them until they gave
and then ran away, black box, jaw set, breathing

so there's my car in the morning
the safety glass glittering like ocean chop
cigarette burns on the passenger
seat, butts ground dead over a used condom on the floor, two
crack whores sitting in the back
tell me they were keeping it
from getting towed
they nod like the decapitated
bobblehead; the dead vines of wires hanging
out of the dash stare dumbly
at new blooms of bloodstains
on the driver's side

it's not what he did, it's how
he did it
so when I say he stole my heart
I mean he stole
my heart like
ripped off ripped out

so sure, I'll file a report but it won't do any good
my insurance won't cover it
it's too expensive for me
to replace; he's got small bills in his pocket
as he walks down the street

I don't feel safe in my car anymore
the criminal is still
at large

and every statistic says
he's going to
do it again