I’m waiting for the rain. I’ve covered my convertible
top, the one that has holes in it, and I’ve put away all my tools that were
laying around my cabin, and now I’m just waiting. It seems I’ve been waiting
all year long for this. In the summer months I wish for cold. I don’t think
it’s a coincidence that I was born in January. Fall and winter are nice and
moody, the way I like it. San Francisco was a moody town. I suppose a lot of
towns are moody. But, when you live Los Angeles it’s the rain that is exciting.
It rains so infrequently that it’s a big deal. Some people complain about it,
which doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s only water, a compound requisite for
living.
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