drenched

It's something, to be wet through within seconds. It's happened a few times in the last week. I love the sound of the rain beating on the roof. And the smell after it clears, alive and fresh and clean. But our concrete yard turns into a deep pond, and I can't ride anywhere. Or if I do, and the clouds break I am drenched, again. Stay Home. Catch the tram.

I re-potted some plants and made a new terrarium with a giant flagon. I pottered. I saw some art. One thing was Young Hae-Chang: Heavy Industries, SMASH THE GANG OF FOUR BILLION at Gertrude Contemporary Art Spaces. A work I loved though it made me sea sick. Car sick. Art sick.
And joyous. There are many stories on that site, I could implore you to go there, listen to and read one. You need the music to keep time. Or I do.

We need the music to keep time. Springtones helped. Ducktails. The French. Yay for concentrated robotic drumming and fat synth bass lines. Aleks and the Ramps. Yay for Aleks and the Ramps. Bachelorette with her cross little face and sweet voice. There were other things that didn't quite hit my mark, either through crap sound or just being in the other room which was too far from the nice couch I found. But there you have my rainy weekend in spring without even one thought for sport.