Vandals and Yellow Sparklies

There's this small park/walking path that goes through the woods near here. It has a scenic outlook and a lot of old stone work that was built in the 30's or 40's, I think. It has a pleasant, ruinish quality to it that appeals to me. In the spring, there's clouds of wisteria. In the winter, you can see the full moon over the city and river on a backdrop of reddish-purple sky. I used to walk there almost every day in my mid-teens; a nice, secluded place to relax and think about things. Because of being there so often in those 'self-discovery, formative' years, I feel a certain bond with the place. I go up there still. Every now and then I go there, like today, to find the stone walls kicked apart and scattered (the mortar gets old and crumbly) and spray paint everywhere. It always makes me angry. What is it that moves kids to try to destroy beautiful and quiet places? Acting out from a feeling of societal powerlessness, or just plain old inborn assholishness?

I've definately gotten things cleaned up down here in the computer cave. It's funny when you clear out a room that's been crowded with stuff for so long-- the feeling of openness around you is almost startling everytime you notice it out of the corner of your eye. I'm sure it will get crowded again sooner or later.

I have writer's block.

I just saw my first lightning bugs of the season.

Just thought you should know.