the weather, and assorted scintillation

the wind is right and i can smell donuts in my carport. the air is a gravid weight, full of mosquitoes and yellowjackets and moisture refusing to precipitate, miniscule plant matter and maybe even a bit of california fire. my laptop is still insistent in its belief it is merely a typewriter, spontaneously opening the cd drive as an inappropriate carriage return. it's not as though it's requesting something new to listen to, like a demanding pre-internet teenager who has discovered college radio and zines all at once. it had better not be, at any rate. i would think it wouldn't have much to write about in its journal, but i could be wrong.

my right shoulder has reconfigured its musculature, knotting and protesting against any position deviating from how i move the mouse eight hours a day, cutting and pasting and opening and closing ones and zeroes. i hunch more frequently now, longing for the days of ergonomic government workspaces, while my chin juts forward and my face angles up to a permanent, invisible screen even as i drive.