"Catapult" by Counting Crows

Associated memory: Overnight train ride from Hanoi to Hue. Watching unknown sources of lights, of unknown villages of unknown people with untold stories and thinking to myself how much I love the feel of actual, physical progress. The act of moving, the idea of my body moving through space. I stuck my head out of the window and screamed. Nobody heard. The air moved violently through the corridors and swallowed my sound.

Today I:
1. Washed the dishes.
2. Ate a burrito and thought it was too much food.
3. Rented a couple of tennis rackets for the weekend.
4. Visited a yoga studio to see if I might be interested. I am.
5. Revised a chapter on Ecuador and realized the rhythm of it is languid. It's a story told in ellipses. This was intentional, and I hope it isn't overlooked if/when it is read.
6. Was attacked by the Koreans, who had signed a mutual agreement pact with the Celts.
7. Felt residual sparks from my time last night. I enjoy spending time with good friends.
8. Am thinking about big plans, new goals.

At this age, our lives have already taken shape. Nothing short of trauma, or the intense exertion of discipline, can alter these vectors.