it's a comfort to know that pigeons are flying over the canal, and that nadine and pierrot are pulling shots of espresso as awful tasting rum punches brew in big glass jars in the window. that some cold, eager, budding writer from god knows where is walking colette in the mornings and evenings and picking her shit out of george's room. trevor writes from finland, it's cold. hanna's letter came late this week, she is still trying to get to moscow. on a plane to milan, my father sat next to vanessa's uncle from pleasanton, my father is teaching italians how to use gas chromatograph columns, vanessa's uncle is going to style hair for oscar de la renta at fashion week. there are three hungry cats that live in the park by sundial bridge in redding. a man grudgingly teaches him son to kick to the soccer ball, his son runs in circles, falls down, giggling. the market sags again, mom teases that this time we're really fucked, but it's true. papa turns 95 in a few months, grandma 91 in march. nana is almost 70 per cent done with chemotherapy with just one more lung evacuation surgery after that. garitt comes to visit in folsom and we watch men's figure skating reruns on some obscure sports coverage channel while he bends my ear about the next love of his life and his botany class. i was never in love with you, he says, i know, i say, and we look at each other and laugh until we cry, but its only half how stupid everything is and the other half johnny weir, strutting it. the rain has finally let up, i've missed two buses in the last twnty four hours, a piece of glass didn't cut my toe off, but now i have one red shoe that will soon be brown. aunt jane is floating like me and we went to the city together to visit friends. come stay with me, she says, i think her apartment in san clemente is lonely. but i stay with nana until april, there are a few things i can stick to and that's one of them. matt says, its good to write, so goddamn if i'm not trying, and i suppose it's as good a reminder as anything that besides the rain and the glass on the ground and the things i'm not good enough to do, there are a lot of things moving and happening in a world where there is nothing scarier than the end of movement