I've been trying to go to the web site of The Museum of Bad Art, for example, but only their front page is available. Maybe they were farked. I've also been trying to get to town to have my head partially de-haired, too, but things don't work out. I keep thinking that spiders are crawling on my neck, because that curl of excess hair is tickling it. There are other places to which I would like to go, as well, but I'd gladly pass up the chance for any of them if I could only get an invitation to that deer party. I probably won't, though, so I'll just have to wait until the deer party comes to me. I need to put out some snacks, I think.
It became somewhat cooler tonight, and I wore a jacket when I went outside. The winds which lately played the trees have died down, as well, replaced by a vague inconstant whispers of breeze. The quiet clarity opens the night to distant sounds, and I hear dogs bark, and night birds cry, and cars running down distant roads. The diminished moon brought its pale light only when night was half gone, and it revealed little detail, the absence of which intensified the power of sound. I was struck by a certain fact, so obvious that I've never paid it much attention: Light becomes louder by its abundance, while sound becomes brighter when there is less of it. Tonight, light and sound have conspired to make it abundantly clear that my brain is suffering from insufficient sleep. Too late now to make an early night of it, I will nevertheless make it as early as I can.