Giant Rock - night 1

Chui' in that warm coziness in the truck

The fourth different flying insect I've seen is crawling across the top-right quantrant of my screen as I type while a stupid, stupid moth smacks it's stupid little face into the light glowing above and in front of me.  Here I am again, in the "great outdoors", technology, truck and dog along as always.  North of Landers, CA I've been here for hours ahead of my friends that are still en route after a days work; a perk of self employment that I still manage to take for granted.  Somehow.

The feeling began to come over me before I even boarded the plane last night, west bound from Atlanta after a week of tradeshow... show.  What was home now feels like a house, demoted to a simple structure or place that feels broken.  It's difficult to describe.  I know what triggered the change, what pulled back the scab on the fact that living in a house designed for a family, as a bachelor is not a great feeling.  Or maybe it's the recent renewed feeling of what it could be but isn't?  Whatever it is, it sucks and I don't like being in my house right now.  That's why I'm in the desert.

It's beautiful out here.  A perfect 60 or so degrees with Mogwai on the radio, a fire burning away in preparation for dinner and sky full of stars.  In a few moments a good friend is about to walk through a door to a poor choice of venue for a first date.  The guy seems to make sense on paper and I'm excited for her, I hope it goes somewhere.  I miss the feeling.