Boise Will Be Boise

As I buttoned my SUPER HAWT H&M JACKET all the way up to my throat and stepped out of the Boise airport, I felt a twinge of excitement, apprehension, and...dare I say...closure(?) The internal "oh my god, I'm a real actor" fanfare from last year was replaced by a new "holy crap, what's going to happen this time?" tune. It's the same nerves I used to get in college, at the beginning of a new semester as I stepped into the first movement or voice class of the quarter. I know the season, I know the people, I know the place, and I know absolutely jack shit.

Day three and I've been roosting comfortably in some of my favorite old haunts again. I've had a latte from my favorite coffee place each and every day, and stolen internet from the Library! a handful of times already. My comfortable yet exciting routine has re-established itself, sans the utter terror of somehow being discovered as a mere amateur and being extradited back to L.A. to hole up at Barnes and Noble while dreaming of "what could have been." Crying in the face of my netbook while playing through Terranigma again and listening to Vic Chesnutt. No, that concern is vanished. I suppose that's a devil-on-the-shoulder that artists simply don't get rid of.

Nope. No guillotines in sight.

Instead, the feeling is replaced by a ravenous hunger to wring every single possibility out of this town and lap it up like a much less disgusting metaphor. My good buddies (also tour buddies, also two of the coolest fucking individuals on the planet) are paying 625 a munf for a two-bedroom house not far from my host family. That's 5 bucks more than I paid to SHARE A ROOM IN SANTA BARBARA. WITH NO HEAT. AND BROKEN PLUMBING. Say...oh...for example's sake...I room it with them fools for a spell...That's about 210 a motherfucking month. I've had larger checks at CPK (granted, fuckers drank a LOT.) All this excitement is, however, coupled with an immense responsibility to myself. Can I do it--of course I goddamn can. Opportunities are boundless in every possible direction. I feel gregarious as it were, but this place just makes you feel that way.

Also, it's 10 degrees in the morning. My scrotum is like a tightly-curled fist.

Love,
Dak