Smog's A River Ain't Too Much To Love rose again and again in the earliest days of this blog. It reminded me of Nebraska and it brought me back to San Francisco, and I am a rock bottom riser and I owe it all to you.
Some days just can't hold onto their hours. This day Wednesday has butterfingers. It feels as though only seconds ticked since I phoned Jon Iverson this morning. In fact, an entire day has gone by. People are walking out the door, saying "bye," without looking back. Meanwhile, I'd like to start from the beginning.
It's hard for me to believe that all of today's sunshine will soon be replaced by clouds and rain. Then again, there's no reason to trust in whimsical April. The forecast calls for the sky to fall at about 6pm EST. Right now, at 4:55pm EST, the tall, brick buildings outside my window are blanketed in golden warmth. I'm usually not so in touch with the weather's hourly report, but there's a special circumstance keeping me curious.