I've been failing math since I moved here. Some nights when I go to bed I dream about being in class, only to be asked to hand in my homework (which I haven't done). When this happens I am filled with dread. Another zero. I'll have to work extra hard to make that up, I think to myself. Some nights the teacher calls on me and I realize I haven't done any work at all for the whole semester. There's no homework, just a mid-term and a final, and I doubt whether I'll be able to catch up in time for the mid-term next week.

When the dreams started, I'd generally be looking for the classroom, unable to find it. Once I'd found the room, all I'd have to do is stop and think really very hard about where it was the last time. Then came the confusion about what day it was. I'd be sitting in my philosophy class, noticing that something wasn't right. The teacher was on topic, but the classmates were all wrong. Was this Wednesday? Philosophy was on Tuesday! What are Wednesdays, then? Oh yeah, math. The theorems are too complicated to come in half-way through the class, I think. Besides, it's rude to show up half-way through the class.

By now I've come a long way. Last night I was laying on the floor of a late 1970's living room, shag carpet. The shades were drawn and the television was on, popcorn on the coffee table. My dad was lying on the couch in a white t-shirt and boxers when it dawned on me.

"Guess what? I'm currently missing my math final," I told my dad. "It's been a really useless semester when it comes to math," I say with all manner of matter-of-fact inflection, though on the inside my stomach is in knots. My heart is suddenly racing and I have a bit of panic in my chest, sweat on the brow.

"I'm failing my math class right now too," he said. "I don't think it's the end of the world, in the grand scheme of things. They'll offer it again next semester and you can just focus on that one class."

The phone rang and my dad picked it up, "No, I'm not feeling well, I couldn't make it. I'll be there next week." Before he could hang up the doorbell rang. I jumped up and opened the door and in it's frame stood a tall woman who pushed past me and walked into the living room.

"C'mon, Steve, you're feeling fine. You need to get dressed and come on in to class," she said. It's not the end of the world, is it? Even if it was that big a deal, there is nothing I could do about it now so no use worrying about it anymore. I've learned by now that would be a precious waste of time. I woke up.

Saturday Jaunt to Medicine Bow, et al (476 mi round trip)

Northern Colorado is. . .

surprisingly flat. . .

Once in Wyoming, head for the hills because Wyoming is surprisingly flat too!

I ate lunch in Centennial at a tourist-y restaurant. The town had a population of 100. The service was friendly. Brie, the only waitress at the joint, was a big girl with a pierced eyebrow. She told every table about this hike that was "incredibly beautiful and it's only a 10 minute hike on the other side of Lake Mary". When she came over to my table, I asked her about the hike. She told me the same story and winked. In the kitchen someone said, "Honestly, you wanna know the truth? I still play with Bionicles." Another person joined in, professing, "I still play with 'Adult' Legos". I could hear Brie ask, "With Barbie?" and he agreed. "Yes, with Barbie Legos." Somebody else in the kitchen chimed in, "I bet you jack off on Barbie's Lego nipples" to which the first person again agreed, just before Brie brought out my food.

This was the first of many lakes I would come across in Medicine Bow National Forest.

Medicine Bow peak just ahead. . .

But first a look over the flats. . .

(Medicine Bow in the background)

(flats)

The water in Mirror Lake is surprisingly clear!

Surprisingly. . .

This almost seems fall, for Wyoming, though I'm sure Wyoming's Fall can be more spectacular. This year, it's my Fall.
Somebody, up by the waterfall pictured above, was picking berries from the plant here pictured. She said they were either chokecherries or ????. I thought I'd take a picture and come home and look them up. Being that the leaf of the chokecherry plant looks like this, I sure hope they are the other berry she thought it might be!! Otherwise, that's gonna be some pie!

To our one and only night together, and the hours that remain.

Coming in the haunted city at last
My heart beat fast
Down Kearny, down Pine, down Stockton, down Hyde
She followed me home
And I found you there asleep on my chair
I found you there
And I feel you near like you are still here
I feel you near

#4

#4

If a joint comes apart, or if it moves from one place to another, or if it simply loosens up where it had begun to stiffen, some trickster has probably been involved.