I'm seeing my second round of seasons here in Boise. I had thought it would take longer than this to become terminally restless, to fall asleep thinking of foreign lands, to feel as though me energies had been sapped. I don't write on this thing much because there is so little occurring in my life. I just finished writing a short-story, the first-draft anyway, and will post it here in the next week or so. I am getting better at that, and I suppose that's of prime importance. I'm reading 50 to a hundred pages a day, on top of homework, work,exercise, existentialist angst etc. I'm jealous of my friends dispersed across continents. I miss getting drunk in the street and yelling at the top of my lungs. I miss glancing with suspicion into my rearview. I miss exceeding expectations. I miss having a reason to stay up late. I miss making love and the infantile, ecstatic sleep that follows. I miss being surrounded by my jerry-rigged family.

When will babylon fall already? When will some whirlwind of disaster precipitate into collapse in all aspects. Peak oil disrupting our teetering financial crisis emboldening fascists already in power obliterating all of our jobs with no agricultural replacement due to catastrophic environmental destruction. And oh yeah, Atlanta is running out of water Whatever will get me out of work I guess. A woman named Naomi Wolf has just written a book called "The End of America" in which she outlines the 10 steps all historical states have taken towards fascism. We have made inroads on all of them: Invoking a terrifying ex/internal enemy, creating a gulag, development of a thug caste, etc etc.

But make no mistake. I'm actually pretty happy. I'm just impatient.