Spirit talks to flesh--flesh talks to spirit. But you never know which is which. I'm not seeking the truth--nor was I ever. I was born knowing the truth. Everybody is. Trouble is they get it knocked out of them before they can walk.

-- Bob Dylan

Don't follow leaders, watch the parking meters. High school graduation tomorrow for The Boy. We are old. I sit on the couch grumbling at teenagers. And all Naperville is waiting for the 17 year cicada plague to rise from the ground in waves of millions of little monsters. I'm hoping it happens during commencement--all those BMW cheerleaders shrieking, "Like, Omygawd!" I have to start writing things that aren't this blog. Back to work! More subterranean beasties busting thru my crust and swarming up out of my fingers, my mouth, my eyes. Expecting to fly. Looking to mate and lay eggs in the aspens. You don't need a weatherman to tell which way the wind blows.

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