It is late, approaching midnight, and I long for sleep. Alas, it escapes me. Instead I toss and turn, right on the edge of it, my mind refusing to quiet.

I started a new position this week, a real job with a real office and hours and a commute. After all that talk of independence, I know, but the money was running out and something needed to be done. As far as jobs go this is a good one, but of course I miss the mornings spent journaling from the deck, the long afternoons in my own world, and most poignantly the lunches with Martha and Aiden.

I went off a bit earlier this week on "flow". Now, as I race around from meeting to meeting, filling out paperwork and hunting down installation discs, I could really use a little, good for you or not. And it occurs to me that what I am after is flow, but on a broader scale. That is to say, all of these processes and whatnot I keep working and going on about are an attempt to capture the feel of flow but writ large, in the grand scale, spanning the interruptions and obligations and changes of direction, a flow that can be put down and picked up again later.

They can capture entanglement after all.

And so I work to develop a cadence, a rhythm, carefully backed with notes and plans. I work to flow from task to task, from the coding to the business to the website to the family and so on. Head down coding was always a gross simplification, missing too much.

I have had small successes, stretches of days where everything comes together and tremendous things get done, but I've yet to figure out how to string them together. I persist. And now, especially now, when my days are filled with new work and a new environment and my own humble efforts are squeezed into the edges of nights and weekends once again.

And speaking of the edge of night, it is time for me to find sleep, one way or the other. So good night, my friend. Tomorrow we begin again.