I’m back outside and wearing clothes now. The clothes are pretty clean and so am I so I guess they are pretty comfortable to wear. Cotton t-shirt and jeans both well worn. On my feet, I have turned a pair of kids into a pair of sandals. I I remember seeing some hippie doing that once and I somehow remembered it when the kids started to fail. They are excellent Garden moccasins.

At the moment I’m sitting on the bench and we are in the middle of a very tense moment in the conversation. What I failed to capture before for lack of film, dammit. Why aren’t I just filming this. Fuck. Why am I such a writer? Is my first choice to write?

I really should make a film but before I do that, and maybe this is an incredibly stupid choice, I just want to say that I have always wanted to be a writer. I was not encouraged by my parents who by all accounts we’re not particularly literate. My mother was a reader, mostly popular novels of the time. In theory she tried to keep her mind in a way that would have been normal for her when she lived in New York. But we were in California and things were different there. We were in New York Jews and they weren’t.

So I had books. Lots of old books. My parents were miserable about adding to the library although in my adolescence I did find some moments of titillation. It was the time when writing was about being good writers I think. Salable writers. Whatever the algorithm was for publishing.

And lately I have this picture in my head of some yearbook during maybe 6th or 7th grade. It’s a very dim memory except for understanding that I was not going to keep my hair, that was already apparent, and that when I answered the question of what I want to be when I grow up, I wrote a writer. And there it was in print.

Why I remember this so clearly, and Sergey is now politicking, telling as many people as he possibly can who I am. Should I open the gate and join them in the conversation? Should I take back my road? I’ve got it. Let’s call in the cavalry.

Anyway, the story ended that I saw that picture later on but also noticed that I was the only one who seemed interested in such a trade. I don’t remember what anyone else said at all really. It was that I was the only one who sought an intellectual trade. Funny. I guess we were just New York Jews and they weren’t.

I’m going to call in the cavalry and then I’m going to start filming. And this is going to require some technical help because my battery is running dead. I think the cavalry is more important.