Cumulonimbus

Leaning into the afternoons... so begins one of my favorite Neruda poems. Clouds were leaning this afternoon, reaching their smoky claws around the backs of trees and out of my visibility. I get nervous when I can't see the break in the horizon. It's a claustrophobic feeling, like the sky has encapsulated this certain part of the earth in an impenetrable cloud dome.

Thunderstorms fascinate me, and no sooner did I spot the cumulonimbuses did I haul butt to an Internet Access Point, to check weather.com. Just as I suspected. Observe Exhibit (A) on left. It dawned on me today that my fear and obsession with inclement weather may have something to do with a presage... death by tornado? lightening bolt? My prophetic presumptions are more often than not reliable. But this is just a hunch... I know when I know something and I don't know this.

Looking outside now this is not the severe thunderstorm I hoped to be watching. No lightening. Rain dripping from a leaky dreary heaven. Where are you, dazzling downpour splendor? wailing wind gusts? I need awe. I'd like to be inspired.

And I'm disappointed.

To Comment, or not to Comment?

Comment ca va? Comment allez-vous?

Comment! I mean it. In the English sense. In revamping the blog I discovered that posting comments had, until now, been limited to other bloggers.

I've opened it up so anyone can comment, so please, feel free.

Posting can be lonely, ya know?

I typed a long post for today but it needs to go through revisions up the wha-zoo before it's postable so it will have to wait. This is the plan: I am typing up my entire hand-written travel journal from my first backpacking trek in 2003. The grammar, style, and punctuation are grotesque and it's filled with hot air. It's loose and unreadable for now. I'm even a little critical of my limited view of the world at that time; I had only been out of the States for 6 weeks when I started that trip! And I certainly didn't speak any French.

I've come far since then, I think. In both my vision of what goes on around me and in my writing. I've retained the same wry humor and knack for split-second conclusion observations; that will be noted. But for the sake of posterity, and because I find this particular journal to err on the side of hilarity, it will do for a project. Rewriting a bit of history.

And now I must leave you to your reading and commenting, of which I hope to encourage much. Goodnight.