Blanket of fog. I may never see most of you again, if we've ever met before. When we meet again by chance, it will not be the same, we all have different skins. Nostalgia is a powerful drug but I am actively seeking an antidote. Here and now: attention. Jigmae and Jeremy, in sickness and in health. Aldous Huxley's dancing voice in our minds, Moses made a jalapeno feast for breakfast, I fried the eggs, and decided that Moerider Oldies 3 was masterfully sewn together with enchanting auditory threads. A nice day to climb the Haight hills twacked on coffee and hot peppers and spliffs and real friendship. I want to treat my lover as though I fully realize the singularity of his gifts and heart. I cannot finish this post artfully because my family keeps interrupting me, but am thankful that they are near. I will miss the lines and colors on my little cat's head.