or maybe not. it's been a while here and i've been wordless, or working. one and both together maybe. but some commentary now on the roll through of the hurricane. it bore the same name as my grandmother and hit her home town on the day of her birth in the year when she passed. so maybe when we die we become storms and make all the streams reacquaint with their banks and the people that surround them.
i've got no new leads into anything significant. my hands are still at the ends of my arms and i'm enjoying life as a married man, though both my wife and i could spend the fall in a hut of paper piled building-sized. she more than me though, what with the doctoring.
we talked about sounds that we'd like to carry with us last night. and the ticking of rain on a window as a storm starts, the noise of the espresso maker on the stove when it's not like the dentist's suction instrument that makes it hard to talk - let alone the fact that someone you don't know well has their whole hand in your mouth...
