People don't live big picture lives. They hunker down safely in their small little world, staring at their feet as they put one in front of the other over and over again. And there's sense in that, you know, because the big picture will paralyze you. It will grab you by the balls and whisper taunts hotly into your ears. Because really, none of this makes any sense: no purpose, no meaning, no unifying essence, nadda. And then you lay down in the dirt. And the ride isn't all roses. Your friends die. Your family dies. You get sick, lose a limb maybe.

Ex-girlfriend works at gas station as a checker. I am in there several times, where her coworkers defend her like hens. See someone I used to study martial arts with. He is huge. Twice my size like a giant. I have long hair, an accurate self.

Ex begins writing at work in a notebook daily. Soon, is going to be published. I am crazy with envy. The Carolina Review. She must pay $5 for the publication. Still, it drives me mad.

"You'll see all these bicycles clear out of here at 2:00 pm," whispered Earl to me confidentially, gesturing at a crowded bicycle rack in front of the library.

"St. Mary's starts serving hot meals right around 4:00 pm. That line fills up pretty quick."

I met one of my characters yesterday, which was a little disconcerting. I was all nerves and he was fairly oblivious. Of course, as it turns out, he's not much of a wife beater. I guess I've got a lot to learn about character development.

There's something about wanting more that makes us human. Dreaming, maybe. Always grasping at that next step, that glowing orange-purple horizon that seems so close. It's funny where we are never seems to be where we wanted to be, and yet, somehow, we keep moving forward. Happiness by degrees, I suppose.