All the way across Nebraska, the wind blows out of the south and plays hell with my gas mileage. Along I-80, big trucks and bikers lean visibly to the left. Past Central City, so much dust is blowing across the road that I turn on the lights.
We are not going to Australia this summer. The tomato plant in the sun room grows almost visibly. Elizabeth's brother Sam is living on a chair in the corner with his laptop. Hating George Bush continues to be a popular but inadequate response to the evils of the world-system. I continue to string index cards on the wall. The locust tree outside the door is full of flowers and bees, who live in the corner of the house. Some day, someone is going to undertake to kill them. I feel sad when I think about it.