job, workplace, nothing exciting about that, no thrill, no blood pumping experience, but a mere job, routine, boring even, day in, day out, just not exciting. boring even. definitely boring even. but fun nonetheless, and experiences, notches on bedposts, places gone and visited, places i have missed, glimpses of history, of glory, sweetness and tender, money talks and walks and waltzes through doors, across state lines, and into pockets, trips and travels and places of worship, the drive, the desire, all still there, all still alive, a loss, a losing, not enough to quench, peaking, mt everest, funny place to be out of season, when noone else is around, everyone else had gone home. i still want to play. i still like feeling my crappy cleats digging into the ground as i stick with a cutter trying to get a disc, as i feel the plastic dig into my palm on a hard stick to the front cone, of the fun of gathered friends, loosening cleats, telling jokes and stories that leave the team laughing, soon, if only, sooner