It has been awhile since we have had a long soaking rain. Today we have just that. And my joints ache. I made coffee. J is at work. I am alone.
I am still processing this weekend. Maybe because I am sober and count among my mentors the illiterate poor who stay sober and live lives in the brutal shadow world of the other America, but I have no feeling for the American collegiate subculture.
But I find little joy in pondering my alienation. Rather the falling rain shall be sufficient cause for joy today.