I'm reading like 5 different titles right now

And that's a good thing. My mind is active. Here are the different moods:

Hemingway's, The Sun Also Rises

Egger's, What is the What

Stieg Something's, The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo

Also, maybe Sudoku puzzle books to choose from and maybe titles just waiting in the hopper.

Summer is good, good, good so far.

written sometime ago.

All the distractions and entertainment eat every moment learning none to freedom, to wander, to explore and grow moving through time forever stunted and stunned perpetually. Entertainment for the sake of entertainment just to know something is being done, somebody is being entertained. Some corporation is making a little money. Some little baby was just being born. The stocks go up and go down. The kids go to school and go home. Watch TV and play video games never really realizing fully the generation ahead of them but always coming to the same conclusion in the end. Its all progress when measured in some form, when analized by the right jury in the appropriate context working for just the right people. People who are going places, people who get vacation time and have children to round out their lives. People who eventually get caught but never quite catch up to it in the end. Talking and words spout out unconsciously one after another going in circles, in cycles. So many words so little real communication, so little gets done. So scared of success, so scared of failure. So scared nobody moves. Just wait for other movement and then follows. As long as someone is doing something, applause! Cheers! Hurray! Tiny little steps to the knowing. Impossible feats found only in books and TV to the never trying. Running and jumping off cliffs, holding breaths, smiling. content. Knowing.

Swimsuits and bare skin in the sun, reflecting off of water, splashing. Vibrations. Thinking next of a snack and then of a run through the woods, maybe pick a couple of berries, mostly blueberries, some raspberries. A deer. He saw us first, standing very alert, ears at attention, wide brown eyes. Not afraid to make eye contact. he leaves, we walk again, found an old can, really old, a style that we might remember when we were 4 or 5. There are a couple of BB holes in it. Someone must have used it as a target. Lets build a fort! We have an old chair my mom will probably let us use and maybe we could use that old wood sitting by the cabin, it's been there forever. If we take these long sticks and lean them up against each other we can make a teepee. Lets just throw and old sheet on it. Ah! A toad. I almost stepped on it, (glad I didn't). He feels weird. I think he pooped in my hand. . . . . . .. clouds, sun, warm air . . .. . .. . . .. Aaaaaahhhhhh(Looking at clouds)(Laying down)(in grass)(field maybe)(long time) . . . . . . . . .. . (bugs start to bit) . .. . ... . Slap. Slap . . . .Slap. Wanna go? These bugs are bad.

big hair

She came from old money. Money that went back to the slave trade, or maybe before. And she carried it around, in her shoulders, her neck, her upper back, sometimes her joints. But mostly in her hair. She did her hair up and out and around and all over. For the last 26 years it took the form of a beehive, or something close. It was all up, high but there were variations depending on mood. If she was really stressed, had to meet with family or had to make decisions concerning money it was up high. If it was to be a day with the kids it would be sloppy. On that very rare occasion that she felt a little sexy, actually felt like a woman, she would curl her hair, just a bit, smile to herself in the mirror, feel good.