left home, & the car was acting funny. felt like a tire, and it was. the tire light was on like one was flat, but the car wasn't wobbling so much, just making a funny sound. partway down the hill it exploded into shreds, with smoke coming up; i pulled over. there was no jack or spare in the trunk, and this surprised me; apparently these cars have little pumps that help you fill up a low tire, but do nothing for a blowout.

my phone could call home, but couldn't access the phone number of work. i was at an old apple place tucked up on the hill that sold such things as apple firewood. i put my blinkers on and stood there looking forlorn. a woman who runs the king's treasure came by and gave me a ride. this was lucky because i would have been late if she hadn't. king's treasure is a second-hand shop, religious, used to be right near our house. it's possible she recognized me. it's a small town on the mountain.

the night before, my son and i, and his dog, were walking up to the lodge, as we do every night, straight up from about 8700 to about 8950, when we encountered a guy with a couch in a truck. we agreed to help him move the couch.

up above, there were stars, but there were thunder and lightning clouds, both to the north and to the south; in fact, it was a lightning show. i am good at getting couches into narrow doorways. there was another one and we did that one too. the guy was very friendly and was glad to have moved from california. when he described california geography it meant nothing to me; lancaster, scv, places like that. he was coming out to the mountains to retire. his wife appeared to be pregnant. fortunately one more woman happened by, and offered to hold the dog leash while we got the couches inside. it all worked.

lots of rain on the hill. mud on the roads, rocks, etc. littered the roadways. the tow trucks were busy. even the gulleys and ditches were full, even in the valley, which is generally dry as the bone. it keeps on coming from down in the pacific, off the coast of mexico, kind of a long monsoon season, i guess they would say. although monsoon season is generally over by september.

working hard, fanatically, on the haiku. it's all there, if you go there and scroll down, i publish it daily, secretly. it's all there, a few thousand now. considering making a huge volume of it. at times like this i live in it. though i only wrote six, seven today, it took me all day. and i'm behind, so i'm somewhat obsessive about it.

don't have one for the hill; not making progress on new mexico itself. i'm comfortable in it, though, that says something. i perform tomorrow. i've kept my job. my kids are famous. what more could you want?