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Quiet day. Rain-filled.

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A measure of peace, and solitude.

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It felt good to clean the house today. I’d not been attending to it the last few weeks. I don’t know what happens to me. I’m like a television that only gets one channel. If the cooking channel is on, you ain’t watchin’ nothin’ else.

Right now it’s the Drinking Channel marathon.

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Speaking of which.

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Namaste.

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PS-

Dinner is Bittman’s Spanish Tortilla, via Bobby Flay and yours truly.

Roasted pasillas and garlic and fried potatoes and onions and lots and lots of free-range eggs and salt and pepper and roasted poblano mother-sauce. And a small salad of bitter greens with a lemon-balsamic vinaigrette.

Add a tiny loaf of crusty bread.

Add a bottle of red wine.

While watching a documentary on India. And after, reading Patricia Churchland’s book on the neurological basis of ethics and morality.

Maybe I can work in some gunfighting and artwork in there somewhere.

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