Day 5

This morning I wanted to slash tires, and this was almost a very, very bitter post.

But then I found an article about Tolstoy in a 1986 National Geographic and immediately I thought of just the boy to give it to, and that made me happy.

*

Recent bi-polar tendencies in the weather remind me of what Shakespeare said:

...Never, since the middle summer's spring,
Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead,
By paved fountain or by rushy brook,
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind,
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport.
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain,
As in revenge, have suck'd up from the sea
Contagious fogs; which falling in the land
Have every pelting river made so proud
That they have overborne their continents:
And through this distemperature we see
The seasons alter: hoary-headed frosts
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose...
And this same progeny of evils comes
From our debate, from our dissension;
We are their parents and original.

-Titania, A Mid. Nght's Dream, Act 2, scene 2

...and it's hard not to feel a diety-like sense of satisfaction when the weather behaves according to one's mood. Grey skies. Floods. Tornados. Lightning strikes.