written yesterday too late to drag my lazy arse out of bed: tonight was the first night of frogs, creaking, singing, growling through the throats, rolling through the grassy humid night air. the hum of a fan a background chorus. i opened the window to answer the breeze knocking to come in. and then - lay nude, sheets strewn aside. eighty degrees and hot.
currently spinning: stephen malkmus: phantasies