Dreaming

It's difficult to focus. Difficult to keep my concentration.

The most interesting thing I do week to week is work on the development of my quadriceps. I don't know why quads--why legs muscles--why muscles at all.

I'm part of a transitional group; we're reinventing the wheel. Nothing avant-garde, nothing heroic. We're playing musical chairs with our jobs, our cities, our love. We love our music and we love to feel alive. We can't sit down.

I loved this weekend. I loved new faces and old faces, and the feeling that I'm still on the cusp of something. I met a man who had such a beautiful face that I couldn't look away and hours later I felt like I dreamed the whole thing. This weekend felt like a dream, like a foray into a golden make-believe time for all of us. A time before we all split apart, a time when I listened more than I talked.

The hours wind down. I'm sprawled out across the carpet, legs twisted around each other, stuffed with macaroni and cheese, wishing the dream could last a little longer.