In Which I Am Alive

I feel like I've lost the whatever-it-was that made me a blogger. That fire where words would build up inside of me and I had to rush to my computer and type until they were out. Which is a shame, because if I still had that fire, if I were still a blogger, there is so much I would tell you. I would tell you about the bike ride I went on the other day, and how I stopped by the river and watched it awhile, thinking of how such a calm thing can seem so terrifying when you watch it long enough, trampling itself in a rush to get downstream, like a stampede out of a burning movie theater, or tomorrow morning coming sooner than you'd like. I would tell you about the 5.10c I climbed day before yesterday, and the satisfaction I felt when I high-fived the chains at the top. I would tell you about how I'm sick this week, and spend every minute of my sub job hoping that the next class will decide they don't need to come to music today so I can rest...and how, since it's