i made some more elvis bread. ya want a piece?

one of the best things about the new computer is i can unplug it and take it outside and use it. simple as bomp! the old computer had battery life sufficient to sustain its brain operations for approx the time it would take you to desperately replug the ill-fitting plug when it dropped listlessly from the socket in the computer's rearside panel. that plug is on suicide watch - it is always sort of moping around until it just droops of the socket. it's not as if it has a deathwish exactly. that's too proactive. it's more like such a complete ennui that it simply cannot be bothered to even notice that it's slipped out again. you can almost hear it sighing. life is too much for that plug. but the new machine can go outside without an electicity I-V.

the kid whose backyard backs up to my backyard has a 4-wheeler. he likes to ride it in his yard. back & forth, back & forth. i guess he is amused, but talk about boring. jeez, it seems interminably dull. but that's probably because i am listening to it, not riding it. the sound of a 4-wheeler being ridden across an expanse of field will range from a low-pitched growl to a high-pitched whine depending on the engine size and what performance is being requested from it - but it will be a generally consistent level of growling. the sound of a 4-wheeler being ridden across an expanse of 1/4 acre, most of which is occupied by a colossally outsized home whose windows are strategically placed NOT to align with the windows of the neighboring colossally outsized home 6 yards away... the sound of a 4-wheeler being ridden in this locale is a constant revving. rev. ving. rev. rev. revving. rev. revving. rev. ving. ving. rev. revving. rev. rev. revving.

it's too dark for him now - he's shut off the revver and gone inside. it's currently extreme twilight. the color is slowly draining from the neighborhood. the grass is still green, but the house next door is not blue but instead, grey. on this side of the backyards, the houses are small and the yards are big - opposite of the house-to-yard ratio on the 4-wheeler side. a rather large black cat is stealing across the yard, under the sycamore. he must be after something... he's not walking, he's stalking. the inside air is glowing gold through windows, the outside air is purplish, cooler. birds are settling in, reminding each other where the nests are, reclaiming territory for the night. the level of light has just reached the tipping point - the bugs are more attracted to the computer screen than they were a mere 30 seconds ago. an airplane passes overhead, rising, people going someplace else. i can hear the cars on the highway out front, but back here, there are crickets. and now, another minute later, the birds are quiet. i hear crickets, a frog, passing cars, incongruous but distinctive - a circular saw. i wonder who is cutting boards, and why. the raw wood, the damp earth, the clear air... it smells like brigadoon.