i talk about the weather because i think it is impossible to talk about the weather and only really talk about the weather. we talk in these moments about mood and about the impossibility of the world and about power and uncertainty and about umbrellas. i used to think i was a rain drop and all the dead people and animals of all time were an ocean and i was just making that long descent until completely indistinguishable from all the dead things and maybe i still do but what if i'm a rain drop falling over idaho. what then. and what if there's a sudden and terrible worldwide drought and i evaporate on my way down.

these are things my former imagination had not considered. that, and hail.

yesterday it was sunny but walking down the street i got rained on anyway. that's a true story. there was no umbrella whatsoever involved.