I’ve received thousands of messages, well one (from my Mom) wondering where Levee Broke has been. People’s lives don’t feel complete without it. Well, I’ve decided you’ve been freeloading for too long. That's sarcasm. I’m working on a piece and I intend to make you pay for it. Sarcasm too. I’m working on something that may resemble a book in a couple years. The piece was just going to be about my trip to the Sawtooths- but like a black hole, it has sucked in everything near it, including my childhood, the history of Native Americans in Idaho, NYC, pain, corporate culpability, nature, the identification aspect of the incarnation, DNA, boats, sympathy, psychotherapy and “all-yo-yah-things” (everything) as our son says. But I hope the Sawtooths will be main story line. It’s written in the style of last year’s Colorado blogs and has the memoir-y zest you’ve come to love in Levee Broke. The piece is unpredictable like the weather. It changes every week. In the last five days it took me places I’ve never been. And when I think I have a section just right, I don’t. Like a real writer I have research to do. Like a real writer this project feels like the death of me, and my lifeline. It’s like one of my organs now. The piece is about 100 sections right now, which is like keeping track of 100 legs. Each section is related to, but separate from the previous section. It’s a junkyard of words. It’s a thousand piece Lego set scattered on the floor that might never be assembled, not for lack of material, but lack of direction and cohesion.