Sunday evening the way was made over to Das Haus von Michelle. Accordingly, I'm typing this journal while sitting Indian-style in a bed. The salty sea air rushs up the hillside and premeates the environment. Freight trains periodically rumble past and inflict upon me the urge to take a trip.
I'm working. Just because I'm in Ballard and it's the season of summer, please don't allow yourself to be fooled into thinking I'm any less busy. However, like any good road show, I'll be here all week.
There are two notes in my electronic leash reminding me to write about "what makes you a tool" and "make-up versus intelligence." As I can't remember the details wrt. the former theory, the next journal entry will expound upon the latter.