Il pleut.

Walking the streets in the cape of my tribe. Not pelts sewn together with pieces of abalone, I am represented by the achievements of my kind: materials constructed from chemicals, defying the natural in both form and function. You infer from the 3-ply exceptional quality of the garment, from the threaded white symbol on the left front and on the right back, and from the numerous pulls and zips, that I am local and an elder. But I am not old, so you postulate that I must have done something heroic to earn the right to adorn myself with such an elaborate armor.

I carry with me that flimsy umbrella purchased in a pinch from a street vendor in Seoul. I didn't want to keep it then, I don't want it now, but here it is still in my hand. I think I will buy a new one as soon as I can afford it, but I know that I will choose a replacement that is far more superior than is reasonably priced and that is not worth the risk of leaving behind somewhere accidentally. I know I will keep this temporary one indefinitely.

I'm unable to release the sheer joy of Saturday's trip. I have resolved to repeat it once a week if at all possible, each time venturing out to someplace new.

Sunday I took my G-ma to see mom and the swirls I painted on. She approved of the childish artwork, but there was an awkwardness I felt and I couldn't talk to mom. I acted like she wasn't there and it was as if we were only looking at graffitied concrete.

Someone had crowded a small grave with pumpkins, a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter cups, a latte, and flowers. It was a loving gesture that really touched me. I liked that the small square of stone was crowded with these things. I had a vision of a man embracing all this that he loved in life, his arms bursting with objects given to him by those who love him. He will never want.

Stepping up onto the Gauntlet this morning, I saw myself as an apparition - as in a dream superimposed over the palpable world - falling from the 14th floor onto the street where I somersaulted down Columbia, through the intersection at Fourth, then Third, until I caught myself in the act of the dream and put an end to it.

A little later, a woman with very little body fat mounted the Gauntlet next to mine. I could see individual ribs under the skin that glided up and down over them as she stepped. Her shorts were exactly the same as mine, but on top she wore only a jogbra. After a slight warm-up, she began really working the machine: She turned to the right, then to the left, stepping sideways. She faced backward and climbed that way. Then she went in circles rotating all around facing a different direction for each step taken. She was riding that thing like it was a stationary wakeboard.

Recently I increased the weight of squats and leg press each by ten pounds. It's not much for such a large muscle group but I tell myself that I want to focus on form and not on quantity. Or I say that I don't want bulky legs and I really just need to work on reducing fat percentage. The truth is I don't want the extra pain that comes with the added weight.

Our first stats assignment was returned today. I did well and was relieved to see it. The work was easy and I thought I'd done it correctly, but my past experience with math has been characterized by not knowing that I didn't know.