wet, empty night

the best way to lie is to tell the truth out of context.

the droplets on the window cast the prettiest little shadows, the most exquisite polka dots. shadows are the finest things with the neatest lines, they're photography taken to the black and white extreme, leaving nothing not utterly sheer, not perfectly elegant.

rain is a repressive thing, driving everything down. it would be so horrible to be a bird flying in the rain, like getting limbs hammered down by lilliputians at every gesture. but it hammers down at everything else too. the smoke that rises on a warm night sinks in the rain, and voices are pelted into inarticulate little noises. and smells too, swept away into gutters, depriving dogs of their stinking "news." the cleanness, freshness after rain comes from its persistent chiding taps on the shoulder, ushering everything of interest down and away.

also

http://www.frontporchrepublic.com/2009/05/the-decline-of-middle-america-and-the-problem-of-meritocracy/

is utterly fascinating and important and something i had never ever thought of before. READ THAT READ THAT READ THAT