It is loud here.

I feel easily annoyed lately.
There is a group of three young persons to my immediate right. Their conversation is sharp enough to pervade over the speakers of the cafe and over my little head phones. I tell you this not because you should care, but because the decibel and subject matter of their conversation is making it hard for me not to care.

Yesterday my friend Katty cut my hair.
While we were waiting for our bleach to process we sat on the couch in her living room and ate some cheeses I had brought as a thank you. Hair cutting between friends can be an intimate process. She said to me and to the room, "Sometimes it blows my mind how many people are all living here, on top of each other." I agreed. I feel the same thing sometimes, about this city. I feel it overwhelmingly. 

Today was warm.
Matt, Missy and I found this trail in discovery park that led from the tip of the dunes through a forested path to the brink of a small beach. Not a secret beach, I know, because there were little stacks of rocks and different carvings of names into driftwood -- people must always leave signs of themselves. But it was quiet and lonely and happy enough for us three to believe we were all the world for a few hours. we filmed some scenes for a small movie in Chapel on Tuesday about the end of the book of Joshua. Or at least, the way we feel about the end of it. Its this people, looking for land -- suffering from the sins of their fathers and mothers; learning from the love of their fathers and mothers. Seeking something from a creation that they are holding on to with fists -- though it always seems to be slipping through their hard and earthy palms.

You know, a stone thrown in the water sends ripples in every direction.