@ mt tolmie; questioning the view. I have a beer soaked tarot card and a kite with holes in it. But it's sunny and the wind has vitality, also an unwanted, vicious, ligament nostalgia to it. We've been writing a lot on time travel, henry and brooks, and the occult, mostly. Long cross eyed blues progressions that end in sort of electric fever—it's more tip music for the moment; though, it manages to move into 3's before it clenches, sort of hand on a wet railing, or rain over a cheap motel hot tub walkway. Last weekend we met an eccentric at a play my mother directed and once acted in years prior. She's responsible for our name and it's interesting, i think, that it's a family's name, that somewhere it was written on a carved wooden greeting at the entrance of her home. But I serendipitously sat in the chair with her husband's name written on a brass plaque, and that's where I watched act 2. Now it seems it's all kites and sunshine and a few pints of words, and little bits here and there, a few sips of phrases. The clouds left in the sky are handsome; well crafted in coincidence, birds, silver jets.