Tumultuous times. This is that kinda now that nobody really yearns for in the storybooks or the movies. There are no songs about it. It's a warm day with wisps of cool breeze. A sort of dull roar, or just a trembling, in the distance or right beneath our feet. In this now, we poor humans who know only confidence in war or peace, stare out on a blank canvass and wait for inspiration.

I guess I'm not sure what to do either. In my new home, I am a guest. Somewhat by choice, since I lack the possessions to hold the space around me. This would be simpler if I were some other animal, a dog perhaps, and just marked my territory with urine. Got plenty of that. Then, after having done so, I would be thrown out into the yard with a bowl of water and a bleached lawn chair for shade.

A bee stung me the other day. I was riding my motorcycle, as I do, and I hit a bunch of bees. As insects go, they are a fatter more bumbly species and we struck each other like pebbles at a lover's window. One fell down my arm and into my glove, where she stung my wrist. Not much of a sting, more of a love bite. At the next stop light I shook out her broken body onto the asphalt. The sting stung, naturally, but home was not far and I rode the rest of the way before I gave my sting a full inspection.

No radioactive bee powers yet. Or maybe they're just not obvious powers. Perhaps I have a mighty sting, but only one use before it kills me too.

Perhaps I like flowers a little bit more.

Weather will be warm tomorrow, a little cloudy, but being outside in the afternoon will be downright tolerable.