Home is the road. Maybe I should spend more time traveling, rather than arriving. Maybe I should stop buying discounted plane tickets. Now look I found time to talk to the dead. A plane ride doesn’t allow you that.

So many things crying out to be done, other people's accomplishment reports the least of them. I do not know what to do with the bunkhouse at Baliwasan Chico. Clean is all its claim to fame, Mary laughing all the time, liking it and not liking it. At a moment's notice they all want to come, and even the uninvited like to invite themselves in.  A space to be lesbian in, a room to smoke in, to sleep all day if they like, the air clean, the food good if people get up to cook. No TV; no crap, and they think even loud music is not allowed. Crazy old dyke is what I am to them.