Sings James - say something

Dearest, a song on the radio is admonishing me to say something, say something, anything - I'm trying dearest, but I have nothing today. It's beautiful out - but you know that don't you? I took a walk, overdid it a bit, and then was exhausted. Collapsed on the porch with a cup of citrus tea, left the door open so Penelope felt emboldened to step out, her first time out since I found her last June. Not that we've been preventing her - she was just ready today. Then I went in, closed the door, and lay down. I was roused from my nap when Penelope banged on the window or knocked something over on the porch - I got up like a shot to let her back in. What a baleful look I was on the receiving end of. This is a day that I would really like to just go around the country roads, get cheese in Chatham. But I don't have the car this afternoon. I am tired of my own thoughts. And I certainly don't want to bore you with that. My standards have gone up. I can't just post any old thing - except that I'll post this, with much love, and kisses. I hope all is well with you, darling. Later, I'm sure. Perhaps some inspiration will hit me. Corporeal inspiration in the form of you-know-who would do the trick, I'm sure.

P.S. Janis Joplin is singing Half Moon now - last night there was half a banana cream pie in the sky, and as I lay on the floor what looked like, between the slats of the wood blinds, another celestial object to the right of it, like a small pale slice of the pie. It gave me the creeps actually but I braved it, put the coat on and stepped outside. No, it was just the moon, with the animated face visible in it (now I believe it is a face - clearly, General God has a great sense of whimsy). I returned to bed, and the secondary object was still in the glass, and moved closer to the moon as the moon moved, and finally merged with the moon, and then emerged again to the left of it. And then I fell asleep, to the music.

All real answers are complete and only real answers can be found in windows.