I am sitting here waiting for the rest of my life to begin.

In three or four more days I will get in my car and go back to Ann Arbor and start over.

But for now my world is made of waiting. Of sitting on the sofa looking out the front window at the snow capped dried and dead for the winter sunflowers, standing tall against the dormant oaks and the snow-flurried air.

And i sit on the sofa and then get up and walk a few steps to a different part of the house and then return and sit again.

I brought books, but I never read them. I look at them and then go looking through the shelves here for something else.

I pace the house restlessly. I make strange noises that excite the cat. I take baths. I get ideas. I start projects that I will never finish. I work on puzzles. I play set.

Life here is sedentary. In Ann Arbor I would be just as restless, but there would be space to move into. Here all the space sucks you up, and you are dry and there is no movement. In Ann Arbor you walk places. You walk up hills. Walking is made of hills. Here there is space and space and space and none of it for walking in. Instead you get in the car and go have coffee with old friends.

The Van Gogh and Gaugin exhibit in Chicago was wonderful. And ridiculously crowded. But I suppose that it wouldn't have been too difficult to figure out ahead of time that the Saturday after Christmas and two weeks before the show moves to Amsterdam wasn't the best possible time to go see it, crowd-wise.

I wandt to talk about it more and more and talk and say things to my invisible audience. My invisible audience that doesn't communicate with me, but watches silently from the shadows, shifting and coughing occaisionally, but never making themselves known (i should probably go join a diary ring or something if I actually want people to pay attention, eh?) But I'm on a modem connection here, and I'm paranoid that i'm going to lose it and the entry.

my words.

so here we go. upload.. Whee!