I'm camped out at the moment, perched on the stairs of a house I'm quite fond of in San Francisco, because it's where I can pick up the wireless signal.  It's stormed violently every day, thunder and lighting and driving rain, and it makes me feel a bit disconnected from time, the way even the day is half dark.  This morning we drove past a mission with a neon sign outside that was actually flashing "Jesus Saves" and I could almost taste the coffee in styrofoam cups I'm sure they offer inside.

I've been more worried and distracted than usual of late, tugging at strands of my hair and letting my shoulders hunch up because I'm not paying attention.  Is is the barometric pressure?  The residue of United Airlines?  The worry finally catching hold and carving out a place to stay?

I'm leading a conference on singing with a few other folks.  We teach each other songs phrase by phrase, echoing back fragments until we've constructed a melody, found our way into harmony.  The music seems to come in waves, building energy and then breaking over us.  It's somehow astonishing, as if the sound didn't come from us, but from somewhere else.