I've been losing blogs lately...parts of Life faithfully recorded and minutized; then I hit the 'publish button' and (zowwie presto!) it gets deleted. This is discouraging if you believe as Jack Kerouac and I believe that typing is writing. Saw Friday standing in the line at sack-lunches-giveaway last night. Evidently, he had not gone to Seattle as I had hoped and feared he might. He is, rather, in camping-out-by-the-river-in-Spokane mode. Which will do, of course, until the first frost. Then life will get hard again. I asked him, "Why, for Heaven's sakes, don't you just pick up and head for San Francisco or Humboldt County?" And he replied meekly and sadly, "Jeez, I don't know anybody there." 'T-any rate, I got about half of his stuff out of my closet and brought it down to him (Walter's eighty-sixing him stilling holding force). I had been looking forward to the rain which should arrive tonight and last through tomorrow; now I'm wondering about "tempering the wind to the shorn lamb." Doest thou?