Missed a few days, it seems.



Just watched Rushmore.  Something struck me, in a scene where two of the

main characters were standing out in what appeared to be a deserted

airfield.  Right after a rainstorm, too.  There was something about that

big, empty place; a huge monument to mankind's desertion of its creations.

There's no denying that the concrete ground and buildings as far as the

eye could see were a product of man's desire; just as apparent was his

lack of desire to keep this creation anymore.  A beautiful place to be, I

was thinking.  Allowing one to be wholly alone, yet surounded by the

ghosts of events past, when the area was once wanted.  



The "just after a rainstorm" part also reminded me of my love for that

fresh point in time, when the air and the ground seem to have been

cleansed by nature's bathing.  Even more, I love, and always have, rain.

I'm sure I'm reaching here, but I immediately draw the connection in my

mind to Ireland, where it has been (reportedly) raining all the time since

the girls have been back.  Hopefully I'll soon scrounge up the greenbacks

to head over for an unforgettable new milennium.