There's this little bit of a hill when I'm driving up to my family's house where there is often a 'whoa' moment for me when the Catalinas come into view. This time the cloud shadows were moving at such a rate that I saw them flowing over the mountains even as I was speeding along, so I a paused my car to watch them shift. It was like some kind of liquid made out of different kinds of light, and it made everything seem so big because it accented the clefts and folds what often seems like a flat painting. I like that hill.

It's like a koan, but not.

Apparently, according to the world's first crossword puzzle, a "nard" is an "aromatic plant." (there're also Latin and Arabic for more fun times)

There's this bird that's taken up residence in the neighborhood that sings incessantly at night. For three straight hours so far tonight, for example. It's a pretty song it sings, it's just its omnipresent quality that annoys us. And its volume. Which is why Phil is going to do a quick walkabout at 1.15 AM; to what end? Having just watched Kill Bill Phil's katana comes to mind. But (not to extend dippy melodrama), we could always make another good chicken marsala. Or whatever the hell kind of bird that is marsala.