Walking in Rain March 27

I await a friend. I drink cold Yuban.

We’ll walk in rain and discuss the various debasements occurring in our country, counties, cities, all around us, obvious and hidden, debasements executed by people who have never walked in rain without umbrellas and thus do not know rain at all.

The wind is whipping, rain ripping, and the whipping and ripping are shredding the morale of the Spring Breakers trapped in their tens, Rvs, yurts and motel rooms. They are cursing Oregon. I can hear their lovely chorus.

There is no other vehicle in this parking lot. Over the sunny weekend, close to a hundred.

Now do you understand my love of rain? It’s pretty simple, really. No one else is here. That’s it.

I continue to rain on all creative and personal fronts. I want to make the streams and rivers swell.

My friend arrives.

We walked and talked.

As I drove away, I remember something he said: “Sometimes a shiv through the armor is better.”

Rain as a shiv against the aridity of our debasing culture. I like that image. It’s not a metaphor, either.

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