Who might as well not exist. He's a 20-day-er, but he got rolled up immediately upon arrival last Thursday for blowing numbers (0.05 BAC). He wrote a kite to the officer in charge of furlough, and was granted clemency and allowed to return to the facility. He's a cool guy, and incidentally, I now have two bunkies named Mike. Makes remembering names easy, I guess.

I've given up on the idea of getting myself on calendar in the attempt at a modification. I've got less than six weeks left, and by the time I actually get a retainer on a lawyer, I'll be down to four weeks left, and by the time I get myself on calendar it'll be three weeks. Wonderful. I'm hoping that all of my saved-up karma comes through in the end in some form.

I've been making okay progress in Nozick's book, but I've been spending a lot of my bus rides staring out of the window and being my own therapist. I know I have a lot of issues to work out, many that I'm willing to share here, but some are heard only by California drowning out the window side. My desire to travel, and to set up roots elsewhere, is founded partially on wanderlust with a tinge of escapism. I explained to New Mike that the three years I've spent in Thousand Oaks are the longest I've stayed in any one address since I was ten years old. Mobility is all I've ever known. In my youth, it was beyond my control, but now, it seems like I impose it upon myself.