Thunder Storms

The nature of things. What actually happened. Two people, standing just a few feet apart, might see any given event differently. Point of view. People in Portsmouth, for instance, consider a red light to be green, at least for a few seconds, which leads to a lot of accidents, especially if you're in the lane where the light turned green and you're thinking about something else, your personal failures or the way that might affect your daughters, or why you behaved the way you did. Distraction, merely, simply assuming that signals govern the flow of traffic. In Portsmouth you wait the extra beat or you chance getting T-boned because everyone runs red lights. Hard rain, but the thunder is north by a good margin. Some lightning, but it's separated from the thunder by several miles, disembodied. The rain, the sound of the rain, is a soothing background noise, played on an insulated steel roof. What I meant was that your reality was not exactly the same as mine. I judge thunder according to how badly it shakes the house. Anything in the key of G. I can't lie, exactly, but I can extend the truth. Arrogant bastard, thinking that I could. I have to reconsider who I think I am. Half a day going over the logistics for the next couple of months, I have an enormous amount of painting to do, but the main gallery is going to be shut down, dark, as we say, for six weeks while they (American Elevator) install the new system. I'm looking forward to this, I've never watched an elevator being installed. Modern Marvels. Which is a great TV show that D turned me on to, where the impossible just takes a little longer. Logging in Louisiana swamps, or casting the largest propeller in the history of the universe, or grinding the lens for a very large telescope. Creative Non-Fiction. Another squall line. I'd better go.