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Monday, Dec. 03, 2001
Wanting is terrible, awful, needful.

Wanting to come home from buying good groceries, good food without fear of buying too much. Skateboarding the grocery cart in a 7 pm Sunday lot with a foot on rail and pushing with the other, steering for the speed of it and to feel like a kid.

Taking your daughters mini-car instead of the overblown SUV to run up through the gears and feel all Formula One'ish around flat corners at 40 mph. Loading it with your treasures and marveling how your packing abilities still function.

Wanting more-more of the drive, the feeling of doing well and the speed of it and the exhilaration of having things on the edge fall into place. Hurting and striving and winning all in one day.

Keeping love in a small guarded place and feeding the kindling of words and deeds to it, puffing gently to watch the tinder grow into a tiny flame and burn. And give off heat.

Wanting clouds to race by like speeded up movies, to bring unfathomable night and dreams and the seconds between waking and sleep when you have the world in your hand and know that what you do is just and right and without dissent.

Having this. A peace and commitment and soaring of thought and needing to get it out onto the parchment of the electric, the waves that we call telecommunication. Here it is.

Want for nothing. Live for the best of these moments. Plan on having more.

I'm on ice skates on a frozen pond, being pulled along by a huge horse with mile long reins who is going much too fast.

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