2005-03-28 - 9:51 a.m.
�I prefer not to be held�
Cloud bursts last night, at least as much as they do in North Carolina. Woke us up, it was good to have my baby there with me.
Our best friends are having trouble, we love them so much and it�s really hard on us. It�s made Jill and I have long talks about our future.
Ren faire was all right, kind of gray and coldish. Kept some people covered that should stay covered. I don�t want to be a hater, but I know that no one would want to see me in a chain mail bikini, and I just ask the same of anyone else my size and above.
Hot and muggy today, the NC default conditions are fast approaching. It�s not going to be much better up in Maryland where we are moving in June(ish) But we have found our little piece of paradise. It is a town called Point of Rocks, right on the Potomac river. Population 1009 (soon I hope it will be 1011) It is a little factory town right on the MARC rail line, there is nothing there, and that is why we hope that we will be able to find a house there. We are driving up this weekend to take a look. Please please please.
It is almost too perfect. About 20 minutes from Frederick where I lived as a child. All that means that I really need to get cracking on our house and get it sold. Which of course means�
This is a great song/poem by Greg Brown. If you dig it as a poem, you must try and hear the song.
Sleeper
It's another happy April
to every happy fool.
And you move through my dreams
like a trout moves through a pool.
Sure I will do anything,
but I blush at the reverie.
Sleeper come and go with me.
And she always was a painter
and she left me her suitcase,
and I still remember
the soft lines of her drunken face,
as she stood there in my doorway,
like a cat up in a tree.
Sleeper come and go with me.
A small farm in Wisconsin
for a driftless man,
supper on the table,
and a lover's tender hands,
though she leaves my salt and woodsmoke,
for a job in the city.
Sleeper come and go with me.
I will take you with my children,
through the clover, to the creek,
when Orion's gone a hunting
through the fields our wishes seek,
where we all can love each other
like sugar in our tea.
Sleeper come and go with me.
Well the last wild fling is over
and a cold wind brings the dawn,
to rows of parking meters
and the shadow of a blond,
who is standing by the wild rye
in a pointless dream.
Sleeper come and go with me.
