as if i can unclutter stuffs if i cut my hair

i want to write something here before July ends

i want to tell you about the sand storm, the calm heat before the strong wind, the lightning show, the monsoon rains that beat the roof of my apartment and force a leak on my drywall ceiling, i have a rain bucket and it works, we have more of this coming

not sure if the management did something about my complaint but everything is dry now

the desert is clayish with smile, it is not porous but it is a celebration for puddles

i have this for you to read if you are ever tired reading me like this, it is my summer gift

i had my haircut the other day, but not before i had a flat tire on a 100 degree afternoon on the middle of the fucking desert, but not before my phone kept breaking up and i waited for an hour for the AAA roadside assistance guy

it's not too bad as i described, five good samaritans pulled -over and asked me if i needed some help during that span, i kind-a felt guilty not obliging their helping hand but thank you nameless folks, it sure was reassuring and i feel good inside

don't ask me about my hair though

i was twice lucky to be outside during the rain

i am not in-communicado. i am breathing, living, i told you that, in the desert. i am doing my best not to melt and not get dehydrated. you can breath, i'm ok, for now.

i don't have internet. i don't have npr. it's cheesy but i'm learning to commune with myself. the desert is the perfect place.

i get my wordly news at the library. i am open to channels of communication usually once a week. you can still write me and you can be sure i will read wat you have to say with anticipation. i will try to reply back.

how's your summer. i have my summer of love at ken*again. read it. i hope you like it. i promise to write again. soon.

write me - please.