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August 2nd, 2003

My other spiritual home is a Yugo

I'm home at last, with the sounds of katydids outside, returned from the land of 106 degree days and monsoon rains. I've been reading all the many interesting friends' list items, to which I will have to return to post many comments.

I'm taking this weekend mostly off. This will be my first weekend mostly off in weeks. I'm excited.
"I was on the outside when you said
You needed me
I was looking at myself
I was blind, I could not see.

A boy tries hard to be a man
His mother takes him by the hand
If he stops to think, he starts to cry
Oh why?"
from the old U2 song, "I will follow"

A few miles from our home, the sleek DART trains run along the surface tracks, conveying passengers to the glass office buildings of downtown Dallas, or fun places like the Fort Worth Zoo. Although I'm a huge fan of mass transit, I've not yet ridden this particular train system. Today my father turns seventy years old, and I imagine myself hopping into a yellow train which then speeds on the track to self-definition.

riding the rails away from oneself to the better stops where one finds oneselfCollapse )

A Voice as Pure as a Minnie Riperton song

Today on my walk on the Trinity Trail, I heard a sound which admixed an insect with an fervent, raucous industrial whine. I looked at a nearby little cedar tree, where a single cicada, roughly the size of a hummingbird, perched with a sound that would have made any number of Teutonic synthesizer bands proud. I thought to myself "welcome to Texas", and walked on, searching out butterflies.