saw the gray fox tonight; i was walking around the terrace park and he crossed the road into it, and down into the center part of it, looking back at me a little as he circled around. he was larger than a cat and had a huge tail. but he was like a cat in many ways. guess he could have been a coon, or something else; i couldn't see his face at all really.

i've been walking around the terrace park at night; recently they put up a sign saying basically that five times around is a five-k, or about three miles. i go only around, but i generally walk on the grass, not the crushed gravel, and the center has become somewhat full of dogs during the day which leads me to call it dog-wallow park, most of the time. this is a recent development; it used to be five people, five dogs, now it's ten or fifteen, or twenty of each, all day, every afternoon, an entire holiday. but at night it's generally empty, maybe one or two dog-walkers, and those with leashes, or way out in the center, which is the wallow. so what do you think this fox was thinking? i'm figuring he was hungry, and was looking for neighborhood cats. second time around the park, i looked for him/her, gone already. fourth or fifth time i heard this pitiful wail from the neighborhood to the north, as if he/she had gotten someone and was killing it slowly. a while ago i feared for our neighborhood stray, suzie, who wanders around free, night and day, she's not really a stray, she's a maine coon, belongs to people across the street, but they let her go and she comes around to tease the others. one thing about her, she crosses flint like she owns the place, much more relaxed than anyone i've ever seen. yet she's survived this local fox, at least so far.

i take my walk seriously, when i take it, and try to notice as much as i can. i see a lot of stars, more than i used to in carbondale even; mostly orion, cassiopeia (sp?), taurus the bull, the pleiedes (sp?) - your basic winter stuff. there are some planets out there. dogs bark to the east and sometimes to the south. ambulances make a lot of noise; that's mostly to the west, but sometimes to the north or south. lots of people use the place; they park by it, and use their phones, or make out, or just sit there trying to get away from whatever. some bring their dogs. one guy tonight walked maybe three laps talking the whole way; it seemed like it was to himself, but, you never know, he could have some invisible machine tucked up in there, and it was dark, so what do i know. i occasionally overhear conversations, or parts of them. the dogs snarl at me. i don't generally start up with people.

the fox would have several hiding places, if he chose to use the park as base. there are sewers of some sort beneath it on the edges. there are alleys that come out, near there. this fella has a kind of urban lifestyle. i'm sure he's rather hungry, come ten p-m on a monday night.

missed the george strait concert; missed the playoffs too, and missed all that obama stuff. i liked the cartoon that had martin and said, i have a dream on top; it had obama and said, i have a drone on the bottom. i'm still mad at him for bombing random strangers, citizens and nationals of another place, for no legal reason, but rather perhaps as a favor to some government that might consider someone a terrorist? i have no faith. to me he's bombing random strangers, bearded stragglers out on the mountainside, whose crime is what, saying something bad about the west? i haven't heard a reason yet. does someone think they can go bombing people in some country, and not give a reason? do it in our name, and not tell us why? is this a war we have declared on someone, and if so, who was it that declared it, was it petraeus (sp?) or someone? in our name? excuse me?

enough of that, these are things we have no control over, clearly. my control goes this far: i decide not to go downstairs and turn on the television. i stay up here, in the light, by the window, sometimes i throw the toy for the dog, in the sun; it seems like both of us are very happy with this arrangement, i because i slowly get my throwing arm back, she because a lab lives to fetch. the traffic on flint, slowly, it becomes part of my psyche, background noise, it's just there, and though it occasionally is too fast, or too noisy, or too whatever, it's just there, i have no control over it, sometimes i put myself where i can watch it; there is a regular pattern, you do notice stuff after a while. the boys tend to go all-media to try to drown it out. all video games, or all television. but sometimes, i just like to hear the tires on the road. watch out for suzy, and the gray fox. we're talking like, flint and twenty first.