Hearing voices...

Out walking this afternoon, and my iphone malfunctioned as it sometimes does, defaulting to a voice setting and activating Siri. Went to turn it off, only to discover she was reciting my dad's obituary. Don't know what to think about that one. Knowing how much the old guy loved his technology, I suspect he would have found it amusing.

Read a terrific story once in the Pushcart series, years back. "The Dead Boy at Your Window." The author was a fellow named Bruce Holland Rogers, and the piece was, as I recall, nominated by Joyce Carol Oates. It was a wonderful work. Just beautiful. The brief interlude with Siri stirred up memories of it.

Thunderstorms tonight. Rain's nice. Got a notice from Orvis my new fly vest shipped today. Should be here in seven days at the outside. Need to drop in Angler's Covey and restock my fly supply before it gets here. Lost everything when the old vest went missing including my favorite fly books and boxes. Some of the things will be easily replaced, others not. There were a handful of beautiful old streamers in one of my leather fly wallets, gifts from my aunt. 

Good headway today on the new story. Dropped the title with the Dylan reference and went straight for throat. Calling it "Love Triangle" now. Hope to have a reader's draft in order before long. Going back to the coming of age story tomorrow. Then on to something new. Gotta start putting more pieces in the mail.