When my mind is racing, when events are in the saddle and using the whip, when "How about Thursday?" stops me short because I can't think past today (tomorrow morning, maybe), when I have to deal daily with deadlines, final notices and underestimation--it would never be my first choice for a good time, but there is an important sense in which I am fully engaged then, fully alive in a way I'm not when I'm in (how you say?) warmer climates.

I move beyond attention to intensity; everything is vivid and my emotions (from delight to despair) are poised just below the surface, ready to be triggered instantly and deeply by a song, a thought, a pretty little girl.  This way and that in rapid succession.

There are easier routes to intensity (travel, romance), but there are a lot of people out there who don't know what it is to be alive, attentive, with something at risk--so it's something, and I don't think that finally I'd even quibble about the price.  Anything (said the Steppenwolf) "but the fat brood of mediocrity."

Seem to have reached a sour note here, but we're in luck:  Beacon's been blessed with a remedy for bitter and twisted, sure cure for a head feeling ready to explode, tonic for weary  beyond weary:  I'll finish this, lie down on my bed, close my eyes and think about a lovely, lovely lady in Wisconsin.  Works every time.  Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready for "up and at 'em," maybe even "tote that barge, lift that bale."

Now.