montanas has a tilde over the 'n'

matches apologizes for appearing to abandon his thoughts just after beginning this log of them...but he has been in the mountains enjoying the hummingbird-patterned silence of a cabin on a lake. one of his favorite places on earth. pictures sure to come once m can convince jenna to show him how to upload pictures on this internet-fangled notebook.

and it will suffice to say that if you live in colorado and have not been white-water rafting, well, what are you waiting for. don't make the same 24-year mistake that matches did. at least now it is remedied, if only to be replaced by a thirst.

oh, would like to take this opportunity to think about moving, because if you didn't know...moving to portland next week. looking forward to rain; rain favorite weather, so don't worry about that. more presently concerned with what it means to uproot and move; what sorts of stresses and liberties it pours on a person. matches wants his life to be a varied and savory stew, not an overcooked meatloaf-and-potato stew. either has the potential to happen.
the thing about moving is that matches has found himself once again getting fanciful about what sort of person he should be molding himself into. is "he" redundant when it is talking about a division between present and future? tough to say. one thing that m noted when he moved to the SF bay was that he acquired a tendency to dwell on both the past and the future. not that such a tendency wasn't present before, but it became all the more accentuated by the lifestyle of the new situation. very strange to find oneself without good friends within a few-block radius. mattress has somewhat broken out of the shy-type; not much of a problem making friends. but the difference was that without a wealth of intimate time and shared, meaningful experiences with these friends, they fell moreso into the 'acquaintance' category. easy to call up and see a movie with...difficult to engage in any sort of genuine conversation about worthwhile things with. le sigh~ luckily for matches he has all of you that he can call up on the phone, though he has never considered himself much of a phone-person. thankful still, even though his phone (curs-ed t-mobile) is practically an appendage now. beginning to feel somewhat like a gargoyle in 'snow crash'.

apologies for rambling. person he should be molding himself into, right. ambitions all over the map, this one. matches is already committed to restringing his guitar and bringing it to oregon, even though he doubts his actual commitment to taking it often from that lean-space between the bookshelf and the closet and playing his same songs over again (starting to improvise, at least~). and yes matches is aware that this is coming dreadfully close to being a segment about his own life, when he has already mentioned that this notebook is to be a place for more broadly-sweeping thoughts, but bear with him. it always takes examples to get to pinnacles, stair-steppingly. the flesh of the matter is that the guitar, right now, is just an example, just a thought. when transitions approach, matches is thundered upon by such and alike. the problem is actually getting them to stick (did anyone else have that fantasy about cheating in college by using one of the cereal-box-prize sticky hands? stretchy-smacking it onto someone's bubbled-in test sheet whilst their eyes were averted for half a second, and having it gummi-tract back to your hands in one pristine moment of pisces stealth?). matches' problem is the typical jilted-intellectual problem....filtering all these theories and thoughts into action and committing time to see them through. writing, music, painting, meditation, invention, research & intellectual pursuit...they should all receive their allotted time and attention, they should all come to fruition.

they won't (okay, haven't; m is trying to be an optimist). even in the relative solitude imposed by the want of youth in san rafael, matches did not push his limits and really bring focus to the table in any one of these things. they were toyed with, dabblingly, as if they were randomly shuffled and who knew when their card would come into play. other thoughts became more pressing, or the mental-exhaustion occasioned by a full-time job dispelled their potency when they burst onto the scene. more like oozed onto the scene. they were almost a hassle and an unwelcome time-consumption; it took some real doing to get geared up about them. and in turn they suffered like plants without sunlight...didn't wither, necessarily, but certainly frosted and grew only erratically.

so antimatter's question is, how do we push things forward? how to become dynamic; to become so electric that the waves of focus and confidence, even if confidence in the fact that one is only an apprentice and has a struggle ahead, can ripple from the fingertips into anything that one touches. how to recapture that childhood curiosity, that indefinition that enables and enhances any possibility? matches saw a beautifully-marbled table the other day and became quite excited for his carpenter-stage, though who can say if it will ever come. that is precisely the point that he wanted to lay hands upon.

remind him to write some thoughts on routine later today, and how it fucks up everything. remind him to put in a thoreau quote or twelve. and remind yourself to stay congnizant and not to fall prey to it more than is necessary.