nutty raze all i know of her was delivered secondhand and then passed on to me. her name is karen. i have no idea how old she is, what she looks like, what she does for a living, or what kind of music she listens to when she wants to blot out the sound of living. this is what i'm sure of: every eight days she goes through a twenty-five-pound box of walnuts. the man who manages the store she buys the boxes from has lost count of how many times he's asked her out. she always answers the same way. "there's no room in my life for that. i have the squirrels." though our paths will likely never intersect, it makes me happy to know there's the vague shape of a human being somewhere out there who's as nutty as i am. 230613 what's it to you? who go blather from