Le maudit Mo D.

and the sky is gray

You've got to love Texas weather. When it rains here, IT RAINS. It doesn't screw around. It was a perfectly gorgeous summer day, though curiously cool. Then, as if a cartoon villain was about to make himself known, the sky turns dark and gray and bullets of rain begin to pound the ground. I respect this. I respect and admire this no-nonsense approach to weather. Rain in other parts of the country is a total tease. In Northampton it frequently drizzles. Dilettante rain. Rain that can't decide whether or not it wants to be pretty or cleansing or helpful to agriculture so instead just becomes an annoyance. A caricature of itself. I want to be Texas rain, mean and deliberate and strong. Of course, nobody likes this rain. I want to be liked, like everyone else wants to be liked.

Outside there is a man stripped down to his boxers doing jumping jacks in the rain. Minus the boxers and plus soap, it could legitimately be a shower, it's raining so hard.

I am at Quacks. I feel a little trapped now, knowing if I try to leave I and my computer bag will get soaked.