mex

david's fixing breakfast. diana's reading something on her laptop, wond'ring aloud about the implications of "lost."

i walked to tim and cyndy's place as low tide was coming back in, a couple of hours ago. i can't imagine what living here would be like.

still. when the plastic demon gyre in the north pacific has annihilated life as we now experience it, this sonoran life could be blessed. diana and i have been discussing how we can do without plastic. the keys i'm typing on could be tramsmitting cancer and preventing the long walk from burning calories in the brilliant design of this decidedly unbrilliant human body.

i'm sick of plastic. as it were. i'm paying attention now.