I have time, and I have space. They are indistinguishable in my detrital treasure of thoughts and things, languishing in the morass of intended ambition. Over five months into what I made believe was an exercise in time to fashion my own feng shui for the space I've accumulated, I am beginning to discern a cross-suffusion of the temporal and spatial dimensions that define my amorphousness.

It often feels like I've fallen into an abyss that's beyond my depth, but so far the fear of a free-fall has been just that. So, yes, I missed the promised re-evaluation at the end of last month. Well, actually, I didn't. I just didn't report it here, which is a far lesser offence. I continue to be involved in all the same stuff -- DFA Boston, ACLU/CLTF, etc. -- but it's no longer peripheral. I've jumped in with both feet, working on a winning primary campaign, and a campaign in my own district. With the latter candidate, I walked in the Puerto Rican and the Dominican parades, thinking how odd it was for people to wave the flag of a nation-state in celebration of the culture that happened to be prevalent within its borders. But then it was I who was carrying a sign, smiling and waving (particularly at the hombres guapos) in this cultural celebration, solely for the purpose of my political candidate's "visibility." I guess culture and politics are cross-suffused dimensions as well. They must be, because I wouldn't be caught dead in an India Day parade unless I were walking with the likes of MASALA or the Alliance for a Secular Democratic South Asia...but I digress...

And these digressions are only seemingly random. They don't lead to checking off items on the to-do lists that I'm conscious of, which is precisely the constraint of my consciousness that I'm trying to overcome.

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