Everything. Now.

This, a weird week. Barely writing, but revising 30-some pages that will hit this thing soon. Both stressed and confused and certain and at ease. Here finally. As in existing. An acquaintance of mine has proposed something that would radically change my life. He wants to open a swanky training facility, has the money to do it, and wants me to work for him. I could be putting high-powered executives, state senators and athletes through the wringer for a living. Or we could fail miserably. And as enticing as it sounds, I've got other things in my sights. We'll see. Physical exertion has become my church, my hour of transcendence that puts the shadowy rest-of-the-day in the right light.

I've now got a cadre here in Boise. These things take time. Barely remembered names now inviting me for breakfasts and nights out. They know how to party, and they're all good people. I suppose I should have known I would find this. I could always drink and talk and stay out late and get up early and I think I have a way of looking at people that makes them want to know me . . .

I had a dream about the girl last night, wherein there was a stifled reunion with suggestions in the way we rolled our eyes in synch. Kicking our feet in a dusty back parking lot amidst crows and crude assemblages of foreign cars, the sky marbelized above. When I woke up my computer had inexplicably sprung to life with an e-mail from her, and a text message that she too had been dreaming of me.

Our entire experience is fragmented as we attempt to apply consistency to our work and learning and fun and downtime and solitude, because we are one homogeneous person (or are we?). So who are we trying to deceive by making this all flow . . .the brain more like a swirling swarm of starlings than the stilted speaking we all stutter through.