Work is almost over. The weight on my chest is subsiding. I'm to meet a new potential drummer tonight. I hope he is good, and I hope he has a good attitude. There are so few musicians in Portland -- or at least, ones who are looking to go pro.

A school bus just passed by. God I remember those days. Never a care except when the recess bell was going to ring, or if your parents were going to find out about that fight at school. Back when it was fun to lie down in the sawdust and play 2-square.

When every unfamiliar place was found, it soon became sacred and private -- a new world to discover, uncover, and control.

Back then, all you had to do was throw mud at your opponents to get them to run away. Or, if they were your friendly opponents, hit them with a firebolt from your hand.

When you shot powers from your hand, all the other kids never questioned that it was there -- they only questioned whether or not it actually hit them.

Is life just another world in which perception and imagination rule?

Perhaps my will is lacking.