Having recently come off one of the greatest successes in my illustrious (albeit as-yet short) life, I found myself in something of a funk. Call it the "Post-Project Blues" (Dave does, anyway, and that's good enough for me). I suppose it comes, in part, from looking back on what you did and wondering if that was your peak. Was that, however long it lasted, your fifteen minutes of fame? When your kids ask about anecdotes from your early years, are you going to tell that story and than have an uncomfortable silence at the table broken only by the clinking of dishes and the whoosh of parental respect as it exits through the front door?

To quell the malaise in my heart, I did the logical thing. I left New York City, and ran to a place where the only person who knows my name is the baker, who lives 10 miles away. And here I am now, on the shores of beautiful Friends Lake, letting the quiet tranquilty wash all the negative emotions out of my being. That may have sounded a little trite, but that's totally what happened. It's really nice here. I'd almost go so far as to say perfect, but it's definitely not perfect. From where I'm sitting I can see three spiders nests, a hornet looking longingly at my big toe, and two coccoons which are somewhat reminiscent of the one in Aliens with the woman inside who begs the Marines to kill her. But really (and I recognize that maybe this is because I've spent 95% of my life's summers here) that's just part of the charm. Really.

I make fun of cults a fair amount. Which is healthy, I think (as long as none of the members of the cult are standing behind you with a cudgel and sack). I actually heard that there is a new cult presence in Ithaca these days (which actually makes a lot of sense. In Ithaca, if they notice you, they'll definitely welcome you with open arms. Probably give you access to the Town Hall for meetings), which is great. But still, I make fun of them a lot. If only on the grounds that I find a lot of them involve group marriages and I think that's just a scam for guys to have a bunch of wives (guys who I assume haven't thought the whole thing through, either). The way I figure it, there are a lot of gods right now, and a lot of them have been around for a while. There's really no need to go making up new gods to deal with, since mankind generally has enough issues getting along with the ones we have.

But I'm sitting on a redwood deck (well, it's wood, and painted red, so at the very least it's a red wood deck), looking out over a lake which has as it's backdrop the sun setting behind the Adirondack Mountains. Robins and finches (finchii?) trill their happy songs over head, and... yes, I just saw a fish jump out of the water. I'm no Whitman, but I'm comfortable saying that I'm pretty deeply tuned in to the vibe that nature is broadcasting at this moment. And I've got my laptop right smack dab on my lap. So if someone came up to me and starting talking about Gaiode, the god who presides over the confluence of nature and technology, I would express interest and ask if I could read his brochure. Then, after a long and deeply thought out decision-making process, I would shave my head and march right up to the group marriage center. Because I'm so into this. I wonder what Walden would have read like if the man could have been writing it with Open Office.

Today has been a good day. Woke up this morning, went to the Bakery, came back and swam across the lake (not across and back unfortunately. But I was proud of myself, nonetheless. Not towing the canoe behind me may have made it easier, but that doesn't leave much room for error. With it I'm some jackass in the middle of the lake trying to get back in his canoe. Without it I'm some jackass in the middle of the lake). Then drove to Lake George Village (which is a serious tourist trap that has held my heart ever since I learned I could find quarters in the couch to plunk into the machines in any of the myriad of arcades on the strip), and the mall (which was pretty much only an excuse to drive more). I was thinking of chopping some wood, but I realized that if I had to drive myself to the hospital with a severed foot, my parents were going to give me what-for when they found out I got blood in the car. So instead I sat and finished the book I was reading (WAY better than swinging an axe. And significantly less chance of accidental amputation).

I head back tommorrow, refreshed, rejuvented, and ready to meet the world once more on my own terms. I recently found that a good friend of mine from my high school days has come back to the big city, and I'm really psyched to see her again. I start the new job soon, which is also really exciting (if a little worrisome. I wonder if they'll let me take Fridays off for the first month, so as to ease myself into the new working environment. Can't hurt to ask, right?). And soon my apartment will be entirely clear off any remnants of the cube prank, which will really clear things up a bit (although it will mean no more cardboard effigies of... Hey, you know what I just realized? I don't have any arch-enemy at whom I can lash out when the need arises. Anyone have an idea for me? Email me).