varying degrees of light

Here's the thing... I hope to do a lot of writing - letter, fiction, essay - this summer, so this will be brief. Colorado Springs is lovely. I'm appalled that I get to be here. But let's start at the beginning.

Driving through the state of Nebraska and partway through Colorado is a great way to spend twelve hours of a summer day, but it is taxing. And expensive, now that I think about it. Darn. At one point, I felt my senses go dizzy (vision included) but not startlingly so. Was it the large volumes of coffee consumed, the handful of sleep hours, the lack of food intake or the hours and hours of singing? Probably all of them. All of those, in some way, were able to be resolved. Nebraska is a great state to drive through alone - even if others were riding with me, and I still maintain that there should have been, I don't imagine we would have done much talking. There was a long stretch where I didn't play CDs or scan for public radio, choosing instead to speed through (when there wasn't road work every twelve miles) and think of My Antonia and Frazier's Great Plains and imagining watching your dog run away for days. The land is that flat. The sun on the trees illuminated their branches - they seemed to be glowing. And then Colorado hit. I remember Russell Brand, who is hilarious, saying that physical borders are an illusion (instead, the only thing that exists is universal love... which is less illusory). Do with that what you wish, but I was different when I drove out of Nebraska. The air, the smell of it, was restless. Where Nebraska felt like the earth was ancient and worn and dependable, Colorado was boulders stretching from the ground and dragging everything with it.

It's good to be, at least for a while, in a place alone - with new people. I could talk with Carol all day. Working with Linda is constant gratitude, and excitement, for what this summer is turning out to be. Jerry is tired and I'm looking forward to drinking more wine with him.

Today was my first day of work. Tomorrow, Saturday, I plan to explore the city, get some reading and writing done, take some photographs and, again, explore the city. I'm so tired. My limbs ache and the neighbors wave back to you. So do the other drivers on the road. I don't know why that makes me so comfortable. There are so many stories and opportunities- like when you visit a new place and want to photograph everything.