The clouds crouch low over San Francisco, and they are deciding between blanket and weather. They do not know whether to be comfort or a cold matter of fact. They do not want you to look back and sea provides the cold, air provides the hot, the marine inversion the Atlantic never had. Have you ever said things confidently without being sure? Have you ever asked about her faith and listened to the answer, say, the number of beads, without being sure, but knowing she was? So at least that makes you sure of something. Have you ever heard music in a public place and felt that foggy weight-- what does it take to dance anymore? What is that extra oomph it takes to get your arms above your head? What is the difference between fog and dead? The joke is that I don't remember.