i've begun to realize, time is crashing by, and my porch is a little crowded. weeds are growing up around the edges of my psychic fences, fear like the rabbit goes back into the hedgerow when I turn around. saw my house from the sky on my way back from TESOL, and wrote a poem about it, but in general, i can hardly keep writing postcards to the boys, who are in camp. Much less connect you to these concepts...much less even keep up with my wife, who of course has her own idea...but hey, it's a process. i walk two miles up here at night, i turn on the fan, water the plants, it's time to go home, and work another day. gonna take the baby on the train to kankakee this weekend....that should be fun. get away. get out. live. do illinois...quick before it becomes a furnace...where am i going? and what am i doing in this handbasket?