I am writing here now because I feel that I should, rather than because I feel that I can. Therefore, this particular bit of writing will be terrible. However, as presents are exchanged then gifts become more apparent and musings become more musical.

It’s hot here now. The people in my neighborhood sit outside in the evenings. The living rooms of the unairconditioned masses have moved out onto the streets and sidewalks.

I sit and wait for inspiration to strike so that I might have an excuse to pour another glass. It’s late and the people in my neighborhood have moved back inside because they’ve run out of things to talk about. Tomorrow it will be hot again.