Day 125

6:30 a.m.

that's early for me.

groggy steam rises from the backyard lake and gold and red rays flood and chase the blur from the glassy surface.

we go to work for a few hours, laying and tying steel in another section of a driveway for the guest house being built next to a multi million dollar mansion. the man himself, the owner, is out in a grey polo held fast beneath stark blue jeans. he reminds me of the farmer from the movie babe, who says 'that'll do pig, that'll do' at the very end of the sheep herding competition or whatever, and he's holding some sort of mug. could it be a beatles mug, i quickly wonder, but do not stare because i am working.

for whatever reason, my mind wanders as i progress along the grid, twisting each intersection tight with a small, revolving metal hook and looped pieces of wire. i picture this guy coming up to me, randomly, and perhaps asking,"'what are you doing with your life son, because i have a lot of money and already have this house and don't know what to do with the rest." this didn't happen, it should be known, except in a small section on the tv screen of imagination. i just twist wire and he wanders the grounds, talking with the boss.

i would tell him that i'm living life. meeting people. pursuing inspiration. having adventure. earning money as i go. and finding a way that isn't grounded in forgotten perspectives or desperate circumstances.

i wonder what he would say to that as a drop of sweat falls and makes a trail down my dusty arm.