I sleep a lot lately or walk around zoned out. I have not done anything but imagine. For some reason I still obsess about getting out on the water in a homemade boat, even though I doubt the fun of it would live up to expectations. Can I open up a trade route along the creek, stimulate enough local business to open up the grain and saw mills again? Can I travel down to the Potomac and become a fisherman selling the invasive snakehead at market? Will I write daft poems proclaiming the significance of it all, that every person should take a stream and remember society’s liquid foundation? These are all silly questions nobody needs to answer.