Gentle readers, if I have any: When I reorganized my page a few months ago, I erased my tediously archived dronings, in some vague attempt to start afresh. However, I realize that we are not always able to do such things, nor does that make good television. So, without further ado:

My life thus far as a series of events, chronologized according to an internal calendar.

The Time of Much Fuzziness: A nosebleed. James Bond on television. My dad and I learning English off Sesame Street. One girl and three Robbies and the ill-gotten fruit of other people's gardens. The hated nap-time of school.

Joy: Soy anise eggs at Chinese community. Unshaken belief in time-travel. Beloved Lucky. A forest--now probably a subdivision--next to a lake: the trees, the wood ducks, and humanoids of the deep. Catching grasshoppers the size of my fist. A reservoir with crawdads. Dealing with the random onset of childhood allergies with books, recreating the outside world and more in my head.

You already know the much applied teenage five-letter word so I won't fill it in: Very young, Asian, tomboyish geek in an older, white mainstream community. The uninviting parties and events. Periodic renewals of hope at summer nerd camps. That's it, that's about it. The rest is whiny.

Escape: Broken containers, messiness, but exuberant spillage. Yes. Oh yes. The demonstration bench in the Green Building. Evil snowplows. Utility closets. Murals. Sore pinball wrists. Stanislaw Lem. A late discovery of purpose. A late discovery of trust.

Running with it: Her neck. The bubbling from the fermentation vat in my kitchen. Fives, or at least fours. Mornings in the weight room. A bar where everyone knows my name. Nonoverlapping communities, all vibrant. Karaoke, done in so many ways. The seven course meals for loved ones. More purpose, change of methodology.

Bad bad: Bad bad badbad. Bad bad bad bad bad badbad badbadbad.

Sublimation: Falling hard, failing. Nineteen hour days to shake off creepage. Loss of two best. A beer to counteract the five coffees. Every day. Close chaperoney buddies, with hearts of gold. The occasional beams of potentiality. One really bad night. But not so bad as that.

Break: A trip to Cambridge, a trip to Memphis. I am out of here.

New: Now.

There. You know all about me now. At least enough for part two of this miniseries.

Unfortunately, no windmill tilts.