Here's To The End of Hiatus and The Promise of Reunions.

From Here to Nowhere

For many years, I've wanted to live at The Brewery. And I will be starting December.

We'll live in an area referred to as the Garden Path. Garden District? Hm. I'll call it the Garden Path District.

We stopped by for a visit this week and the train yard behind the site was making noise. Organic, rolling metals, tracks and mechanicals. I imagined men with grease on their faces, hands and coveralls, shoving coal and levers to push these steel symphonies through America. I saw Carl Sandburg. And the trees blew. It was a very windy night in Los Angeles.

Half of our home will be for living and the other half will be for living. The half that's for the living will have a heavy creative focus and the other half that's for the living will have a heavy creative focus. One side will have a bathroom, washer/dryer, bed. The other half will not.

Sartre the Unicorn.

It's another wonderful Friday afternoon and everything is exciting. I'm going to write a thesis, encoraging lively discourse from learned halls and hallways. I'll get a PhD. I'll curate new exhibitions, indoctrinating creativity into our supermarkets. Finally. Omaha will get why it's important to recycle and that Obama is not Muslim and if he were, it's OK. I'm going to inspire not only the children but the worn and educated. With my visionary humanities work, I will put an end to crime, to poverty and to hatred. I'm so excited.

On Sunday, I can't write one more paper. I can't afford a mortgage. My miracle Education Arts Unicorn seems so far away. I stare at her now, glowing on her mountain. All I can think, "What will I do?"

Breakfast of Champion.

I'm buying a loft. I feel like the jokes on me while at the same time, I'm going to get a tax benefit on my rent for once. That I like. I'll miss a garden but I'm not ready for a garden. The pressure is on to get into my photography, my musique concrète, my writing, my painting and you.

I'm going to not care. Every minute or so, I will not care. Again. Again. Again.