I've been in bed most of today and one luscious chunk of yesterday, napping and reading so that yesterday evening before the sun disappeared it felt like early afternoon and I drove to Pine like that to park and walk the rest of the way to Barca where two of the most interesting people I know sat in the smallest booth, which forced the three of us to cram into it. Later another one showed up and it was four of us, twice the capacity of the overstuffed cushions and the little round table holding two beers and two cokes. Eight legs squished together in a robust arch.

It was early and a DJ wasn't yet on the scene and never did show up despite nightfall. Instead I watched with amusement a young man and woman necking in the balcony space where the DJ is usually perched.

We stayed a long time and a steady variety of persona entered, drank and left the bar while we talked I can't even remember about what but everything was funny and it all felt good so that when I left there for another friend's house a feeling of contentedness drenched me like rain I hadn't prepared for, and I realized that living right now is as I think it should be. All the pieces are in place and so many cool people are in my life.

It takes awhile. You sift through a lot of poseurs before you find the real ones, the ones strongly themselves, living independently, almost stubbornly for their interests. These are the ones to teach you, to enlighten you, plant parts of themselves in you.

I am the happiest I have ever been.

So I arrived at my friend's house after wine but there was still dessert enough for me. We talked until midnight when I left for home but outside in the new chill and having napped earlier in the day I only went upstairs and inside long enough to grab the book of CDs so I could go back out and drive south in heavy rain.

South to deserted streets, winding through industrial areas in lowlands, yes, but over hills when necessary and strange neighborhoods I don't quite know except for one night a long time ago...

As it always goes I found my way to a black shore. Far beyond it a frontier, where the ethereal plane joins the manifest in a fuliginous seam.

Something like that.

You drive on like this impervious to the world in your little auto-capsule, the heat gently emanating and keeping you safe. You think because it doesn't touch you that you also have no bearing on the world or its inhabitants. But you see their heads turn anyway, seeing you because they heard your stereo coming first.

I try to find a viewpoint from where I can observe the city at night. And this night when I found it I saw the city a woman in turmoil her hair drenched with sweat and clinging to her face, which I could hardly make out in the dark. So I went to her and through her and beyond and back again to find my home somewhere inside her.