Driving down Boat Club Road I think, "Write about what you see." I look around. Clouds. Blue sky. Trees. Grass drying out to yellow in the heat. Subjects familiar and mundane. "No," I think, "write about what you don't see." Magic. Wonder. Gods.
It occurs to me that you can tell more about a person by their description of what they notice not seeing than you can by their description of what they notice seeing. How many of the things that we don't see are really there and we just can't see them? Those things that really aren't there, what does it mean that we notice?
Sister Christian by Night Ranger comes up on the MP3 shuffle. I wonder, as I often do about many songs, why I have this song in my collection. It has a sadness, but the sadness of music is often carefully engineered sadness. Is something wrong with that? I don't know. It seems like it sometimes, but it doesn't bother me today. It's not something I notice.
Not many clouds in the blue sky today. Too much sunlight for the meager, North Texas trees to provide much protection to the yellowing grass. It's going to be a hot one. Hot and pensive, though the wetherman's meters won't measure all of that. I'm feeling clear to partly cloudy, with a chance of rain.
Hello, friends. How are you today?
Later. Love.
