Overcast today, but warm. Sixties warm.
Up late last night, drifting in and out dreams. Woke for a long stretch around 3:00 am, and lay there thinking. Wondering how different Dante’s works might have been if he had seen the night skies through the Hubble telescope.
Mercifully, went back to sleep. But not before a blood orange sunrise lit the underside of the sky.
Rose a few hours later and put the last pieces of a new story in place. Afterward, took a nice stroll downtown. Picked up a couple of bottles of blackberry vinegar, dodged a few panhandling bums, then stopped in a joint called French Fry Heaven treated ourselves to lunch.
Back home, read an essay by Donald Hall, Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Dr. Have to admit it was a bit disturbing. Nobody can argue the man’s talent as a writer, but it appears that behind the wheel of a car, Hall is to the open road what Nicholas Sparks is to literature.