Rain tickles the roof of my new domicile. No, it tap dances like Fred Astaire. No, it is jazz played with brushes in a smoky New York club in the 1950s.<\/p>\n
When rain falls, it often leads writer to drown themselves(but never Ken Kesey) in preciousness and pretension. I know a little something about that and have tried to amputate it in recent years. It’s so hard to cut off your own arm.<\/p>\n
Hark! I hear a sound on the roof. It is the rat scratching around, trying to gain entry into my domicile via a disused vent. The last three nights he has clanged the vent at exactly 3:00 a.m., almost like tolling a bell! We have a little battle going on, but I will not employ lethal methods. I began the negotiations the other night and they seem to be going well. <\/p>\n
The Christmas decorations are up and beaverwood accented by white twinkle lights has never looked so holy. It compares favorably to the plastic Nativity scene down the dead-end road where wind has toppled the three wise men, Joseph, the virgin Mary, baby Jesus, farm animals and a penguin wearing a scarf into uncompromising positions. It is perhaps the most forlorn, debauched, but also strangely moving Nativity scene I have ever witnessed. All it needs to cross into legend are elves, angels and a Grinch with a whip. <\/p>\n
The rain is picking up, scatter shot in movement, like it can’t decide where it wants to fall. Now the sound turns to to typewriter, an IBM Selectric. <\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Rain tickles the roof of my new domicile. No, it tap dances like Fred Astaire. No, it is jazz played with brushes in a smoky New York club in the 1950s. When rain falls, it often leads writer to drown themselves(but never Ken Kesey) in preciousness and pretension. I know a little something about that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":4660,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10,11],"tags":[630,672,760,928,934],"class_list":["post-4658","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-meditations","category-of-walking-in-rain","tag-matt-love","tag-nativity-scene","tag-oregon-coast","tag-rain","tag-rain-writing","has-post-title","has-post-date","has-post-category","has-post-tag","has-post-comment","has-post-author",""],"builder_content":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4658","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4658"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4658\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":9995,"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4658\/revisions\/9995"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4658"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4658"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/nestuccaspitpress.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4658"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}