There is something I like about goodbyes. Specifically, the words. (Don't you worry.)

I noticed, when I spoke it in the French--adieu. I once said it slowly, and really heard it for the first time. A dieu. To god. Adios--a dios. To god.

I liked it. I'm not the religious sort, but I understand the wish, when you may never see your friends again (every parting holding that possibility): go to god.

And in the English? What do we have? Goodbye. Go(o)d-b'-ye. God b'wi'ye. God be with you.

There's nothing wrong with goodbyes.

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The movies I have been watching. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Braveheart. Hidalgo. Shine.

All of them grow the legend of extraordinary--real--people. Real people who touched on greatness, or perhaps infamy--who existed. This is what I am taking in right now.

I didn't intend this. Shit--William Wallace, he died.

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"Your heart is free. Have the courage to follow it."

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This bird outside is sorely mistaken. Sunrise doesn't happen for another couple hours, at least.

3:49 a.m. 2004-03-30�