I think incomplete secret stories are the best kind.

Last night we went cupcaking and sleuthing. 

First in the parking lot behind the bar where we spied on everything while we crouched behind the car and then jumping up we scared Friend so funny. I chased J chasing me followed by my cape I kept stepping on and flapping behind like bat wings. 

"you crack me up"

But we almost cracked, we parked across the street from a farmhouse and ducked when every car that couldn't see us at all drove by/almost done for when faces floated on the porch/rolled across the road and almost smashed the cupcakes but kept the whiskey safe/crept across a field and laughed out loud because the sticks kept cracking like gunshots and we were trying to be so sneaky/stealthed up behind a barn and into the dark to leave everything on the hood.

Finally: we flapped down the driveway, two big birds dressed in black and one with a cape.

"you should check on your car!"

samurai stories are out of this world and pinochle appropriate. ask about it sometime, but only if you get scared easily.

i've run out of capital letters

four day delays make for ninety six hours of writing unfinished stories and un-sendable letters, procrastination and list making. 

i have tangible and virtual boxes of nice things i've been meaning to turn into pictures and poems on a blue background but those will have to wait until sometime soon. i plan on spending the next two hours sprinting at a standstill.

before then here is the only part of tuesday i want to talk about in real life.

i didn't touch the water because it wasn't water, it was shiny green and gooey and probably had a ph level that would have melted my fingers off and provided food for a million invisible sea creatures that will someday grow into krakens, every one.

magician on the dock

he caught a starfish

today is going slow and even the cars are keeping tempo with the music on my headphones.