Pressure: 29.93 inches and steady
Wind: From the East at 21 gusting to 31 mph
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the santa anas are blowing seventy four degrees rattling my door, nearly 11 at night. i’m hormonal, and i’ve been drinking. you’ve no idea how relieved i was when i checked weather.com and discovered that, yes, there is a reason i’ve been behaving this way. behaving you ask? why yes. i spent the last, oh, six, eight hours, mostly surfing, reading political stuff, subversive and conservative alike. searching for … something. at least three hours spent at this 9-11 document archive figuring this is where it all went this insane, this is the seminal event that turned this country all around. changed the political climate forever. so i read the individual stories, and looked at … i am not making this up, approximately one thousand three hundred pictures. on dialup. page after page, clicking, clicking.
fucking santa anas make me crazy. depressed obsessed and entirely unanswered. nothing makes any sense any more. so i walked outside in the wind and looked at the sky, orion my winter companion still with me, wishing i could will the streetlight to wink out and let me really see, even thinking briefly that if i were a pelletgun person, i’d make the damn thing go away myself, only for a moment before i realized that that’s a really, really insane thing to think, even very briefly, and i blame the wind. estrogen and beer don’t help, but it’s not just my chemistry, it’s the fucking weather.
i left the door open when i came back inside to finish this up, the wind is now tickling the soles of my feet. my poor kitty, his winter coat meant for different weather, is sprawled on the table next to the computer, dreaming overly furry kitty dreams. my son came into the room with the standad mommy i’m scared, i sternly ordered him to shut off the light and lay down on the couch.
i’m tired but not sleepy. i’m lonely but not alone.
i don’t know where any of this is going.