-Jackson, Wy.

yesterday I took a break from scanning approximately one gajillion images for some to use for this documentary that’s MIRVing into either (a) a groundbreaking work of cinematic journalism or (b) an obscenely complicated mess, a sort of over spiced curry stir fry deconstructing itself to a palid lumpy paste, to have a chat with a friend named, appropriately, Chaos.

In addition to his many other remarkable attributes, like an unflappable constitution, penchant for torching shipping pallets, and ability to drive for 14 hours without apparent effort, is that he’s a mortage broker.

More to the point, he’s my mortgage broker, and is working to get me a loan for a house I’ve had an offer accepted on in Salt Lake City. During the middle of the seemingly endless process, while he was crunching some numbers, I took off to the skate park to work off some nerves. And there, standing on the little steel rail, with my helmet rattling loose on my head, my right foot tabbing down my skateboard, pointing it up like a flagpole, I lifted my left foot, swung it forward and onto the board, and for the first time since I started skating again dropped in. It was a small drop, two feet, but that’s not the point. As with the mortgage, something I’d long wanted to do, and not done, and feared, suddenly was something I’d *already* done, a part of my past, not a piece of the future to fear and dread and worry about.

I fell soon thereafter, bruising my hip, but got back up and went again. and again. and again. then i came home to hear Chaos say things were looking good.

And I admire the times people I know have dropped in, that a little bit more, and understand it, and realize just how small, really, a decision most decisons are in the end. Stop thinking about it, and what might happen, and preparing to deal with it when it goes bad, and just. drop. in.