I was able to get Immediatism back from the anarchist when I stopped by the open mic at Cafe Lena to see if I could find some people that I had lost touch with. The reading itself is much less appealing than it once was. The place is twice as crowded as it was when we went there and it now seems to be more of an exhibitionists forum. The heckling is more frequent, twice as offensive and, at best, half as witty as before and each reader seems invariably to begin their turn with some crass remark about the last reader. This and stiff joints from standing for hours has kept me from returning.

After finding no one I was looking for I was starting to leave and had the book thrust in front of me. The anarchist thanked me for loaning it to him, after I thanked him for returning it, and offered no opinion on the book which told me that he was probably more of the rape-and-burn-alive-the-presidents-daughter variety of anarchist and found it a bit too soft.

I just got off of the phone with Tim who I don't get to talk to that often since he is at work so often, so we gave each other the highlights of our lives for the past two months and concluded by determining that his life is an episode of USA Up All Night and that mine is some cheesy Gen-X flick. I think that neither of us envied the other nor cared to brag about our own, classification.

I hope that everything I send arrives intact. I am still not sure how I am going to attach Hephaestus' Monocle so that it will survive its postal pilgrimage. If you would like to, I discovered that you can wear it on your hip (or elsewhere if you find a way) by attaching it to a belt loop.

For what reason, you may guess. Or I could make up some power that it symbolizes. OK to make clearer to its wearer the points of time in their life that are sensitive to change.

Ya know. The fluctuating periods of a persons life where anything they do could either change everything or have absolutely no effect at all depending on where in this cycle they are. Similar to your time flower. OK I made it up just for this thing I made but I think it works quite similarly to Tarot cards. Create a symbol, make up some meaning for it, and its probably true, The thing on the wall is called Fountain for Dead Flowers. Perhaps later.

I have not dated this letter because it has taken me so long to prepare all of this that I am almost embarrassed to. So much has happened, not with myself so much as with L, that even being involved in the second hand way that I am has left my concentration, at best, sporadic so my writing, especially my letters, feels quite disjointed.

I spoke with N briefly today. She sounds determined to move to the South now and has quit both the Green Room and Starbucks with the idea that she will start collecting unemployment until November (I think it was) and then take a train into the South. She seems much happier than she has in a while.

Yesterday I was playing solitaire, a very long version where you try to get cards to total 10+20 or 30 and remove them, when I realized that not only had I chosen this version because it took so long to play but that I was beginning to worry that I might win the round I was playing, I had played it for at least an hour a day for the past few days and had never won (it is also nearly impossible to win.) After remembering that I had watched T.V. the day before without much concern for what it was (Trinity Broadcast Network) and realizing that I did not actually want to win the game I decided that I had been courting escapism and that if I won I would either put the cards away and I would be alright or I would spend the rest of my life adding cards in my head. So now feeling a bit stronger, armed with this knowledge, I decided to play the game out and to purge some meaning or message out of the way it ended, which it did in a manner that I had never seen before. It ended in an infinitely repeating cycle with the last hew cards. I watched it cycle through a few times and layed down on my bed and laughed a bit. With some purpose in mind I wandered downstairs and heard that Valerie's CD player had hit a skip and was stuttering the same sound rather than jumping around a bit and moving on as they usually will. So with only an idea or two of what it could mean I called N today and after walking around with her for a while I feel much more... actualized. I couldn't remember when you said you would be leaving for Texas so I hope I can get this to you soon enough . I am looking forward to leaving now more than anything. I am perfectly happy about moving here but I feel that I've done what I wanted and that

if I stayed it would only be because it was easier than leaving which is what almost prevented me from coming in the first place.

I really should finish this letter. The fact that I am working on it now is showing unusual focus for me compared to this last month. I feel like every thought I have is trying to balance on a scale with a hundred treys on a single pivot. Or more simply I am indecisive which I think has made this letter a bit cold but it keeps me from playing solitaire. I hope YOU ENJOY TRAVELING THROUGH Texas especially considering how jaded you sounded when I first spoke to you on the phone after you moved back. I miss your company and even as close as L and I are becoming I rarely see her anymore since she is working two jobs taking two classes and looking for an apartment. Also we've only known each other for a few months and sometimes I miss the lucid familiarity of friends I have known for years. I am anxious to see you again and I imagine I will soon. If you can, send me a very Texan postcard.