Well, today started lousily. Waking up from dreams I really would rather forget into a world of rain and mist. The storms of last night tried to wash humanity, creation, clean from the world, but to no avail, at least...I'm still here...I haven't gone out to check the rest of the world and can only verify the existence of the environs I traveled through today, and other rains, storms, might have driven those things into the primordial mire from which all of this evolved in the first place. The Farmer's Market exists, the Griffon exists, quite eternally, the mall exists, sadly--despite the thrill of strolling the short expanse of shops packed with humanity on most Friday afternoons. The family demesne still exists, or...if it doesn't, then I am deeply screwed, for it is where I am writing, and where I intend to sleep tonight. I awoke mildly confused, with my phone ringing, VNV Nation's "Defiant" blasting from this wireless telegraph's speakers. Alex was calling in a state of panic on the way to get her picture taken at Saint Mary's. She runs a blog here too, The Alexiad, in case you are inclined to read something of a much more academic nature than this...which can be academic, but such things are often reserved for my other blog, at sacredgreenfedora.blogspot.com, just to give myself some press somewhere in the world of the internet. I also keep a livejournal, to show my age, and a tumblr, to pretend to keep up with the rest of the speed of light and cybernetic chromed world of ours. The panic in question turned out to be misplaced, and her photo session went quite well by all accounts. Materializing at the door in a lovely suit purchased for her thesis presentation last week, or perhaps for the portrait, which was originally assumed to be last week, Alex took my breath away. She always does, you understand, by virtue of being herself and being my cosmos. After strolling around with the dog, we headed off for a quick breakfast at the Farmer's Market and then onward to various errands throughout this pathetic excuse for a city. Hiding from the second deluge of the day in bed, napping until a break in the slumber by heading out to the Flat Top Grill in the mall. Having been recommended by several trusted comrades along with other folk who just seem to have good taste in establishments of fine dining, the Flat Top Grill was a blank on our culinary map of the city, otherwise an almost completely charted territory. So, like George Scott in Burma, we ventured out into the unknown with only our wits and wallets to guide us. Entering the Flat Top, we were met with a din that wasn't so much lively as much as it was deliberately noisy for the sake of noise. I cannot abide such chaos. The chaos of well-oiled culinary machine, however, is something else. The clink of forks and glasses and dishes being washed and dozens of conversations flowing at once. That is a symphony of progress, of civilization, of...I don't know...I just like restaurants that are noisy for a reason. The clangor in question, though, seemed to be generated largely by the speakers pouring out various hits from the Eighties, Nineties, and Today adulterated by awkwardly stilted conversations about all sorts of business ventures. Stir-fry buffet style, like O'Sullivan's Crossing used to be downtown, but not as good nor as cheap, the Flat Top Grill presented what could have been an interesting culinary experience and simply watered it down while somehow managing to give me food poisoning of a rather unpleasant sort. I've spent most of the rest of the day in a recumbent state, trying and failing to recover some state of what would probably be called 'Health' by those who name such things and insist on cataloging every aspect of the world into the grand system of said cosmos. Scientists, perhaps we can call them, or maybe Naturalists, or perhaps, if we are very familiar with them, we can call them Charles and Alexander (Darwin and von Humboldt, respectively). I could spend an age studying Alexander von Humboldt, but I shall have to delve into my passions for those protoscientists and men of great learning at a later date, as other things call me away from my keyboard and out into whatever it is that masquerades as reality. Peace to all.