Going back almost five years ago now, when things began to hit the fan, I experienced a moment in my driveway, in which I told myself that I was no longer The Professor. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

The terror part led me to cling hard to that identity anyway, for another three years.

But two years ago as Covid ramped up, whatever I was clinging to came apart in my hands and I fell, down deep into whatever it was I was fearing most.

Today I stood in the same driveway bereft of all identities and the politics that come with them. I was just some human bean.

All daily bullshit and frustration aside (I’m listening to the song of Dusty the Broken Stray Cat in his hospital room), I’ve never been happier; never been more myself.

I woke up today to the realization that in addition to the grubstake I have left, there’s thousands of dollars in two-percent-for-life money available to me right now, and that deployed judiciously it could be a deus ex machina that pushes me a good ways down the path I want to take.

And also that seeking after a ranger job this summer is a path that could be walked simultaneously …

But anyway. The details are dull and must be dealt with sternly.

I can feel the modus vivendi trying to blossom.