i sit in the house of my friend, on a main street in the small town where i lived for eighteen years. the traffic goes relentlessly east here, three lanes of it, though it's a nice house, old, charming, kind of like the one we live in now in texas. the three lanes of constant traffic make a rhythm that i'm sure eventually seeps into your bones so that you don't even hear it; to my friend, i'm sure, this place is restful. to me, i have emotions from the eighteen years, from seeing people who i knew for all those years, while now, i sense a gulf growing, as their lives continue here and mine starts all over again, elsewhere. i said to a friend, so, what's new around here, in town, politics or business, what's happening in the town itself. she looked at me blankly. it was like, i shouldn't expect her to know such a thing, or, more likely, what do you expect ever to happen? or perhaps, why do i care.

it's all a little depressing, but i'm on my way out of here now; i'll give a report as soon as i return. promise!