I am about to be rudely awake once again in the city. In the pumping heart of things. Walk walk this way to see your waking. I dream of daydreams and whispered conversations between friends and lovers and what is between? where does the sky end and the ocean begin. I'm happy to be here. I'm happy to be anywhere now that I know. It's inside. This expressionist painting before me is waiting to be tasted rainbow sherbert. I'm ready to ride. Ready to roll on down low road to history. I'm writing all these things that I hold sacred and human and real for anyone to see. I am screaming in the night hoping I won't wake up from this vision of glorious beauty but what does it mean? How can right now be any more or less important than the next? What choices will we manifest into reality?

I wake up early and cough. the blanket that I thought was keeping me all cozy and warm had fallen down to the floor. I'm on a bunk so that's about 6 ft. down. It's raining. The floor is wet. My shoes are wet. I stumble to the warehouse to find c-la sitting there. Looking like he hadn't moved since I saw him sitting there last night and he wanted to start the conversation that he didn't finish before. I'm tired. I drink some coffee (kona coffee) check the time turn on the radio turn off the radio sit stop think think think. What was I supposed to take to Z's house? A shovel, a pick, i think that's it. I pace a little. I think I put too much sugar in my coffee and i think about the fact that half way to Z's I'll have to take a piss in some weeds with the best scenery in the world wrapped around me like a huge green and blue quilt-work carbon meshed far sighted dali painting. I think about home as I hear some okie croon his love song for ol' what's her name and have a beer and forget about her boy you just round up them cattle you hear? I feel like I'm walking away from the gold rush and people passing me say i'm crazy to go but all good things come to an end and I just don't want that sort of thing yet. I look up to the cotton ball clouds over Waimea and think of snow building slowly on a cold window-sill lit up crystal glow of street-lights. So I worked, mixed some concrete, stuck some poles up and level and in line and then it was done. I had drinks with my host and payroll officer it was enjoyable. On my way back to the farm I stopped out between Waikaloa and Mana Kea looking up and away seeing as far as the clouds would let me I saw roads. Roads that curve and curl and mover through times and places none of us will know. I laugh. What good are these visions that have no meaning. and i wonder. what is not a dream.

I have to work this morning so this will be a short post. I'll revise it later.
My brother was out last week and we had some great adventures together. We did all the things I'd been wanting to do since I got here. We went to the volcano and saw an active lava flow dumping itself into the cold ocean. We went up to Mana Kea looking out over the clouds to see Maui. We stepped on British soil after paddling our kayak across Kealekekua Bay. Snorkled with the fishes see? Drank Kava on the beach and down at the cliffs. Slept at Hookeena. We had some serious talks about our relation to eachother and we bullshitted as well. We watched the fireworks from a sustainable mansion