It will all come in a rush when it comes, I know it will. There's a lot of content still rattling around in my head, building pressure and weaving itself into ever finer, more intricate and more fragile patters, the kind of cobweb divinity that's too easily swept away by flourescent day-to-day distractions.

As I step out of the shower and set my nightcap (scotch) on top of my 17-pages of top secret polling data, I feel like a fake. The reasons are obscure, but probably owing to my recent entre into professionalism, I feel a little less transparent. This little comment thread on MfA led me to remember this page, which I find actually interesting to read.

Am I worried about propriety? My reputation? My job security? I don't link to this area all that often, though I could. And then there's this page, which hasn't gotten any updates lately, let alone a stray href.

There are a lot of stories to tell. My last little relationship, my last few flings, my summer vacation, my country fiar, the trip to the DNC, my cousin's wedding and family catchup. There are ideas bubbling around, questions about identity and career and meaning and truth and art and love and fear and the innefible puzzle of human nature. These thoughts though, they're ephemeral, fleeting; potentially deep, but never complete enough to satisfy.

So it rattles around, slowly crafting a mental picture. I don't have the insight or time to express everything now, but it's beginning to move forward in my mind, and when it comes out it will come out in a rush.