oh, but. i left maine thinking i might have to stave off regrets as soon as i sobered up (fig.), had a few days to days to organize my thoughts. still, i should know better ; even the things i do that are poor, not of the best morals, materials or construction, dont comprise regret. missteps tell me a lot - one, that i know they are what they are, and getting that far is hard enough (my everyday morality is a cobweb, and my personal preferences are surprisingly elusive - do i want to be in new york? if only my desires were that compartmentalized and accessible! instead i have to play stupid stomach games, where i divine deep, morphic, volcanic sentiment by testing whether or not a certain hypothetical causes what i like to call a walnut to develop in that place where our instincts live...anyway). two, they draw attention to things i would otherwise pass over as well-oiled ; if you see it coming, after all, thats not much of a misstep so much as an inconvenient decision. and im still not totally settled on this one, which is whats a bit galling - i need to make a choice, go one place or the other, and i keep pushing each end's bounds, teasing it out, and thats just miserable. What Do You Need, dear. for its not just a matter of wanting, either - its testing out my cravings when i know im not eating well, what am i missing, what can i hear that i need. whos wholesome, whos tasty? oh my, im all for trashy metaphors.