Th weather is beautiful, the revolution is spreadin', the bottom feedin' garbage cops of the NYPD who are macin' and tear gassin', and pepper sprayin' those of no threat are bein' filmed on stills and YouTube, not to mention they're bein' sued, Libya is creamin' the opposition, and I laugh as the plunge protection team is revvin' up the market in a way that makes no sense. The powers that think they are, are in a panic. Gods, I can't wait until next week. And I only have 45 days to go at the absolute maximum in this portion of paradise surrounded by Hell. One month and a half. Less than 7 weeks. Gods, how sweet. That light at the end of the tunnel looks like the size of a thimble to me, in my mind's eye. It doesn't seem like forever any more.
Now I think I'll go down, put on a kettle of Earl Grey, cut, butter and heat some scones, and call the others to enjoy the snack on the verandah whilst we watch the rain come down on the grass that was cut yesterday. I know I won't be turned down.
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