"Nowadays it seems everybody's havin' them dreams . . ."

I've been listening to The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan a lot lately.

That album about says it all.

"Americana! Nostalgiana!"

The title is the chorus from a song that my neighbor's band plays.

My neighbor is a fifty-something-year-old man who may or may not be retired. If he isn't retired, he will be soon.

I am sitting in my living room on my sea foam green sofa, and my neighbor's band is rocking out the neighborhood on his back porch. His band is some sort of wedding reception Mardi Gras rhythm and blues outfit. They play New Orleans music with basslines that bounce all over and piano that's smokey and jumps and hollers like a black cat in a bathtub.

They sound all right, they're together and all, but their's is a different kind of feel. I feel like fixing myself a glass of punch and calling up one of my cousins to talk about what we think we'll get for Christmas this year.

My personal favorite is their warbly rendition of "Are You Sleeping, Brother John?" They sound like the band that your strange uncle is in, or your high school math teacher.

On Your Own Out There . . . "Sleeping is giving in"

I haven't written anything of any real substance here lately. I've been speechless a lot recently.

My life continues to stretch itself, and widen, and I feel that I am absorbing more and more of the world around me.

I am also coming to rely on myself and only myself for the first time in a long time. I haven't felt this self-sufficient in about five years.

In some strange way, it's like law school is some really good drug I've taken which is showing me how to see things anew. Already I feel my brain twisting, and in a powerful and positive way.

I will say, though, that it is nice to have a companion with whom to share new experiences like this.

But then again, maybe I'll find me a girl in a Waylon Jennings t-shirt.

. . . but I doubt it.

I hope it means the same to you that it means to me . . .

Regrets of a Man Overboard

When I jumped in the black water, it seemed like a good idea to swim away in the middle of the night. But now I realize the water is cold, and the boat is out of earshot.

****************************************

I think I may have finally found something I'm good at.

****************************************

I am worried. Tell me you're okay.

A hand in the bush is better than two stoned birds.

Yesterday, I blew out the back innertube on my bike for the second time since I've been here.

What a bunch of bullshit.

***************************************

Waterfall

Lying next to you was standing and breathing in
the scent that wafts from a waterfall.
I was amazed that something so thunderous tasted
like honeysuckle on the back of my tongue.

What It's Like Here

My morning starts at 7 a.m. I have class at 8, and I like to get there a little bit early so I have time to get my bearings before class begins. I dress and make my tea and grab my books, and I walk downstairs to my little dungeon/bike workshop. I walk my bike to the street, noticing always that both of my next door neighbors are living in FEMA trailers parked in their yards. It's an odd visual with which to start one's day, but I bike along. My street, Audubon, is beautiful, especially in the early morning when it is quiet and the light is green filtering in through the oaks, but there are still nails and chunks of dry-wall littering every few yards of sidewalk. Classes are easy enough. The readings are complex, but the concepts are simple to grasp. I sit in the back, as per usual, and mostly alone. It seems no one wants to sit by me, but I try to participate anyway. In the evenings, when class lets out, I bike to Audubon Park and huff out a few laps. I am up to six, and I am now doing six laps in the time it was taking me to do three laps when I first started. Talk about improvement! After I bike, I come home and shower and eat some fruit. Then I usually listen to music for a little while or drink a beer. After I unwind, I read cases for a couple of hours and then watch Sex and the City. Then I write for a while and pass out with my laptop on my lap.

I am sometimes lonely, and there are those I miss, but life is mostly good.

*************************************************************************************

P.S. - I was never that strong.