I don't have kids. Instead,

In five hours and forty minutes I get to wake up, take a shower, put on some clothes, and go

perform a Shakespeare play for some San Josean junior high school kids.

I smell like campfire smoke.

I climbed a 200-foot tree today to overlook the cloudy Monterey Bay from the top.

I delivered a free pizza to Lex from Survivor about a week ago, and he gave me a ten dollar tip.

I learned how to say "I'm hungry" in spanish, then I forgot. (yo tango something)

I made close friends with an older Oklahoma girl the past two days who loved the outdoors.

I hosted a barbecue last night that fed a bunch of hungry returned college kids.

I bought an illustrated map of Los Angeles from Santa Cruz bookstore this morning.

Tonight we took about twenty loaves of free bakery breads and layed them out spread on our

table and counters when we got home.

My room's a mess. My car is dirty.

I walked all day.

I live a street away from the beach.

I saw a plenty of beautiful women and tourists today.

I have a wad of cash under my nightstand.

I have a college degree.

I have a great car.

I imagine life hits a point of satisfaction that is constant and reassuring.

I imagine that we discover an ultimate solution that takes us and nourishes where's dry, curing

our diseases and filling up our ears.

-I also pretend that this satisfaction exists nowhere and it's all my imagination, so that I won't

ever achieve it,

and then I believe that my imagination is more accurate than reality and that I can achieve the
impossible.

So I play thick video games.

I don't have girlfriends.

I never stop looking through bookstores.

I always ask questions.

I am honest.

I overexpress.

I am never satisfied.

So, I'll get up tomorrow and entertain a bunch of kids in another city. I'll love them and then I'll

leave them.

And for sure I'm alone tonight, and I'm used to that.

Bye love Mikie