The sunlight has a milky, fogged-out quality during the heat of the day.  In February, the heat should never be an issue but my car had the A/C cranked today to deal with it.  I've lived places where it was hot, sure, and places where it was cold, but never in a place where it was hot and cold over the course of a single day, a week bringing all four seasons in a mad rush of wind and allergens.  It is extremely unpleasant, but who gets the complaints?

On this end of the stick, it looks like it's all gone to hell already and we're well beyond saving.  Maybe so.  Maybe our worth is measured in our ability to save ourselves.  Maybe my grandparents had it tough, dying for ideology, dying from lack.  Maybe my parents had is tough, dying for ideology, overdosing on excess chemistry and the wonders of the world.  Maybe I have it easy, this life lubricated from birth to death by the mechanisms that created us to begin with.  Maybe now it's our time to work for the world, to pay for the future with blood and sweat and spirit.  Trying, hard.  I'm not trying.

2) I am romantic for my fear.

The best part about being this sort of observer of this sort of mundane crap is, you get to apply the logic you want to situations that require absolutely no logic.  I could be on cruise control right now, taking the day off, working on my yard, balancing the checkbook, dealing with the surplus cash and surplus time in a way that makes sense to people who want both time and cash.  I could set up my own recording studio.  I could fix that motorcycle out in the garage.  I could help my wife do the landscaping project she's working on.  I could X or Y or Z.  Instead I am observing the fact that I am not doing anything.  This is the most useless loop I am capable of producing, but I do it for all the right reasons: I don't want to fall back into the rut I was in just days ago.  And I cannot maintain modern life without some sort of expert guidance.  My maps are all fucked; I was taught to navigate by stars and lowlands.

3) Always live by Roger's Rules.

But the problem is, nothing is one or zero simple, and I can't look past that.  I am a student of the gray areas that exist between where I am and where I should be or want to be or have to be.  I'm incapable of clearing this thought up at all, really, but the best I can do is tell you this: don't worry about it.  Don't worry about me.  I am a ghost.  I am capable.  I just need to find the right road.

4) Success is a poor teacher.  Failure teaches.  You learn fast, accurate and hard rules by failing.

Every mistake I have ever made was made knowing, even if just at the last possible second, knowing that I had just fucked up.  I have not yet made a mistake that I was not entirely aware of at least while I was making it.  And yet.

5) Possibility is cruelty.

My pictures are all horizons with long straight hiways.  At some point in the future, a lot of people will hate me.  I will hate me, too, as the sun sets in the rearview.  But the worst sort of life is one mistaken for furniture.