And so it was decided. I was moving to the coast. Surely this would
end the cliff-hanger that my life had become. [several weeks pass,
during which in my head I am more of an idiot than ever.] The
blank page is pretty damned formidable. Apologies, I am already
getting ahead of myself. Sticking to strict chronology has always
eluded me. “And who doesn’t?” you might posit, and I’d be happy
to concede to your generalization. Let’s presume there will be more
than enough time to question the relative significance of my tale.
A hook, though. I suppose that if this is to be engaging in any
way, I’ll need one. And a good one at that. I mustn’t just chug
along here in my little box, all unawares. There must be en-
gagement. Engagement, for me, is religion. Anyway, please
bear with me as this venue, this method, is new to me. It
always seems to be, in any case. Swimming out of a miasma
of sleep and dream (where I rarely disappoint) into . . .
reality? This is most assuredly not a dream! It is . . . .
Well, ignoring all consequences, all chronology, all con-
vention. Please do so kindly bear with me as I begin
(even if not quite at the beginning). . . .
