I have a social network here in New York. It's the damndest thing, you know. I kind of forget what it was like until I get back and it hits me. It's good. It's more than just knowing people, it's knowing what's what; it's confidence; it's agency; it's empowering to have a lot of friends. It most certainly makes me a different person. The possibilities are different, my bearing is different, my outlook is different.

That said, looking down the line it would appear that I'll remain tied to San Francisco for a while longer. I'm not happy about that for personal, political and longer-term professional reasons. I mean, of all the people I met in politix this year, most of the ones I like best are here, not in California, and that's why I went there, for crying out loud.

I don't intend to diss, but it's a bum pattern. New York City more than any other locale I've yet located self-selects for My Kind Of People.

I don't quite know what to do about the situation other than to look to the long term. I can abide pragmatic (implying gainful and temporary) compromise, but not settling, and there's just no contest in my mind as to where the Best is.

I do want to see the world, and from time to time I need to get out into nature, and maybe sometime down the line when it comes time to do the family thing I'll think different, but this is home. I want to come back and live.

Blatant plug to those who may or may not read my blog and who may or may not have any influence over my future: If anyone wanted anything great out of me, they'd find a way to post me here as much as possible. Ho ho ho.

Lurid tales of barroom hookups and citified poetics for another time. I have friends to see.

I have a social network here in New York. It's the damndest thing, you know. I kind of forget what it was like until I get back and it hits me. It's good. It's more than just knowing people, it's knowing what's what; it's confidence; it's agency; it's empowering to have a lot of friends. It most certainly makes me a different person. The possibilities are different, my bearing is different, my outlook is different.

That said, looking down the line it would appear that I'll remain tied to San Francisco for a while longer. I'm not happy about that for personal, political and longer-term professional reasons. I mean, of all the people I met in politix this year, most of the ones I like best are here, not in California, and that's why I went there, for crying out loud.

I don't intend to diss, but it's a bum pattern. New York City more than any other locale I've yet located self-selects for My Kind Of People.

I don't quite know what to do about the situation other than to look to the long term. I can abide pragmatic (implying gainful and temporary) compromise, but not settling, and there's just no contest in my mind as to where the Best is.

I do want to see the world, and from time to time I need to get out into nature, and maybe sometime down the line when it comes time to do the family thing I'll think different, but this is home. I want to come back and live.

Blatant plug to those who may or may not read my blog and who may or may not have any influence over my future: If anyone wanted anything great out of me, they'd find a way to post me here as much as possible. Ho ho ho.

Lurid tales of barroom hookups and citified poetics for another time. I have friends to see.

So some spambot found me and wants to advertise online gambling. Comments will be off until I have a solution. Suggestions via email are welcome UPDATE: I think we're all good.

This was really good; I'm in NYC for another week, having a blast but still getting up to speed with my email and whatnot. I have a loaner comp because my old screen is broken and that means I lost all my mail rules and have to chomp down tons of spam to get to any messages that are actually for me.

So pardon my relative radio silence. Things are good. I'll get back to you soon.

This was really good; I'm in NYC for another week, having a blast but still getting up to speed with my email and whatnot. I have a loaner comp because my old screen is broken and that means I lost all my mail rules and have to chomp down tons of spam to get to any messages that are actually for me.

So pardon my relative radio silence. Things are good. I'll get back to you soon.

Still going to New York tomorrow. There's a conference this weekend, the "morning after," in New York put together by the good people of cosmopolity. Next week lots of writing plans and talking about timelines, then another weekend in NY, then back here. Hopefully more time and inspiration to write and think non-work future too.

I'm starting to feel better about life, the universe and everything. Hope you are too.

First proven tactic in maintaining a better head: exercise. I knew it would work, too. It's the closest thing I have in my life right now to a method for anything. I'm going to enjoy getting back into shape, loosening up all these desk-jockey kinks, feeling strong again.

Week long retreat for MfA has started. So far it's going pretty well. Friday I get to go back to New York. Really looking forward to that. I'll be much happier in a bit when more of my future has taken shape.

In all the back and forth up and down, there's another state, which is the doledrum middle. Somewhere between boredom and numbness. Beclaimed, the sailors called it. Feckless and stony. Inertial time when people who try to cheer you up are the last thing you want or need.

It occurs to me that I need some down time here too; that burrowing into my bed and/or giving over hours to meditation and other kinds of un-thinking might be in order.

Anyway, I don't know how I feel about bitching about my state of mind on my blog, so I don't think I'll be posting any more pissing and moaning. It just doesn't seem right. There are better insights and inspirations and finer dark grey blue thoughts that will sooner or later lead to stringing together words and sentences into singing streaks of meaning-making language love.

For now my clinical appreciation for this rather unique experience is dwindling. Maybe something new will occur tomorrow. I'll sleep on it for a while though if I have to.

I'm encouraged by all the people who are ready to keep fighting for the future. It's the right idea, I think, because if too many of us quit and the country goes down the shitter it won't matter where you live. If the US goes down in a blaze of facistic hegimon glory, she'll take a fuckload of other nations and people with her. We'd all like to retire to the shire, but it's not a realistic option, especially if you think about having kids.

That's a dark train of thought, but it's where my head goes sometimes these days. I'm struggling. The most important thing is to stop stuggling. My campaign is over. Halfway around the world 10,000 Marines are getting ready to storm a hostile city. Life will go on for me and hopefully most of them. Ugh. It's bad.

I think "emotionally fragile" is the term for my current state of mind, body and soul. Wild mood swings; ups and downs. The other night walking the dark wooded street in Berkeley, watching airplains make their slow arcs and listening to Tom Waits sing about the Heart of Saturday Night was a moment of deep dispair, almost cosmic and transcendent sorrow. Today walking from Valencia Cycles to the bank backed by Toots and 54-46 (that's my number) I had bounce and humor. So it goes.

Art, man. Art! How fucking long has it been since I made art? Too long. Art and love, yeah... but we don't talk a lot about the latter. Been kinda keeping that on the back burner for some time now. Easier that way. I don't know whether or not to believe in sexual healing, but I sure as hell have that feeling. Not that there's a damn thing I can do about it, but there it is.

I don't know where to turn or which way to go. Politics isn't much of a crisis to be honest with you -- I see the way forward there -- but that's no longer such a big deal, no longer a central organizing principle of my existence. With more time to myself, I'm confronted with all I've neglected. So much has fallen by the wayside in the past year, I find myself now looking out over barren territory, lacking in purpose, connection, meaning.

I hit up friendster tonight and in the random gallery clickthrough I realized I already knew two of the girls who I thought were cute on the first page that came up, and then I found out I'm connected to the girl I made out with in Boston through Ben Newman and PeeWee Herman. Oh man. It's that kind of night.

So tell me, oh wise one; what does an outlandish young man do in these times, when he feels beaten, old, confused... I'm open to suggestions. I'm already headed back to NYC for a spell, so that might charge me up a little. But really; if you know any good books, movies, CDs, restaurants, vistas, or hangouts, I'm all ears.

After being more or less "on a mission" for the past year, it's quite something to no longer have the perceptual bounds of campaign separating me from the rest of humanity.

I think it might be a good thing, or at least enlightening and fun. More freedom should lead to a better lifestyle.