Complete. In search of.

It was like,

we used to goof off so much even though the new administration there carried around this huge overtone of professionalism, wearedoingagoodjobhere. Back in Oly. They had hired a new membership director and nobody liked her. It was me and a bunch of hipsters, heroin types, Jon and I would blast Rza at closing and nothing really mattered, Joe and Manny were hanging around somewhere. The juxtaposition of a corporate business suit and heels with Joe bleeding on the bathroom floor. I had been the shift leader and Chris told me his tonsils were bothering him and could he go home and I of course knew the real reason he wasn't going to stick around. "Ok" and after the shift I took a case to Jon's and there was Chris, we just laughed and bitched about work but,

that's Olympia,

been thinking about it lately because I would like so much to rekindle some of that camraderie. Like: life is really not so serious as they would have you believe, and it turns out that it's long, not short. You have eight million years to figure it all out. You will be eight million different people before it's all over.

Passing a torch. I cannot go with you.

And,
sometimes your heart breaks but the pain is blunted by some unexplainable beauty, some thing that defies any attempt at logical understanding. Convulsive beauty. To know finally, maybe, what to do. To branch off, and everything that entails. Thinking about that wall at the Gaelic Club. This tempest that has not let me rest... I know what I have to do! The journey will be a struggle and each step I'll be looking over my shoulder,

to you,

I wish so much that I could walk with you. With the lions. It's just not in me. That is one of the hardest things I've ever had to admit.

Men of england!

Rise like lions, out of slumber
in unvanquishable number;
shake to earth your chains like dew,
which in sleep had fallen on you.

We will both be the best at what we do.