The wind howls. It whistles at the other end of the hall. I feel like I should be shaking. Every gust and whoosh of the wind makes me inwardly cringe, bracing myself for the big hit that's bound to come.

I'm not in a trailer but it sounds like one. It sounds like the wind picked up drumsticks and the road is a snare. It's a syncopated drumroll after a sickly cymbal crash.

The wind is an orchestra. The conductor's tuxedo tails are flying about, whooshed back by the airspeed of the cymbals, of the force of the flutes trilling through the plumbing and gutters. (I'll have to laugh when a cowrell bingles by.)

One of the most fun places to be in a wind storm, I think, is in a parked car. Because you can hear the wind, you can feel it shake the car.

And amidst the shaking and jarring, you know you're still safe. You know the car's not going to be lifted and carried away. And that's why it's fun--because there's almost an element of "danger" but at the same time, it's safe. It's a rollercoaster. It's the ride at 6 Flags that takes you all the way up a tower and drops you like a broken elevator.

It's skydiving. It's safely on the edge.

Ok I've written enough....I feel much better now. Thanks for listening. Hope you enjoyed that uh trip through my psyche. Does your brain wander around like that? Like if someone didn't throw on the emergency brakes it would never stop, it could never derail? I wonder what would happen if there was an end to the tracks.

Would that mean losing my mind or would that finally be freeing my mind to think bigger things, to think of the best things, to move beyond the 10% of the brain that is usually used and coming up with profound thoughts, good thoughts, inventions and ideas and the impossible grabbed hold of and pulled into the finite world.