As Anatole, I have joined OpEd.com, and so considerably expanded the possible number of readers of these candid presents. I feel like I should offer those potential new readers some apology for that, and I do. I am still hoping I can maintain TVFTQV as the unvarnished, gritty depiction of my life--in maschera, as 'twere, but real. That sort of self-revelation is easier when you don't think that anybody else, really, will read what you write, and you almost hope they don't. Virgoness. Mauvaise Honte. But so be it: Hello World.

Kristen and I flunked out on the finale of Zauberfloete this evening. She said evilly, as she handed me a little baggie of roaches (butts, unsmoked portions of marijuana cigarettes), "This is for you. Friday mayn't have any." Marianne is to have me back in a week or so to plant Oriental Lilies, whate'er these be. And so 'tis time to take our trazodone, blood pressure medecine and Prilosec; eat our banana; drink our milk; and go to bed. Friday's among us, and welcome, because he's got a sinus infection and needs to rest up and take the medecine he's got for it. He could be frate Ruffino. And so, it being still hot, yet thunderstorms and weather change are on the way, and a hopeful good night's sleep. But there, the night wind's come up; I smell rain.