"You are intimidated by the stream!" Matt challenged me.

And I wanted to say: You're half right, Matt. The truth is that I'm afraid of everything.

I had the integrity to say so the next day.

Flow with me for a second: Now I've been to even more countries, my wanderlust being uncontrollable. But some stick with me more than others. Egypt, obviously, left a permanent hole in my heart. It would be nice to return there one day. I have to hope that my friends, the Abnoudis, will still be around and that I can find my old pal, Ez el-Din Shawkat. Perhaps he finally did marry Salwa.

Part of my soul lives in Serbia. I am tied to the confluence of the Saava and the Danube in ways I can't begin to describe.

I would love to see Florence just one more time, and Athens. I still need to breathe the air Alexander breathed in Athens on his way to his war in Persia. There and Macedonia would complete my hejira.

And thinking about all that wandering, all those people, hither and yon, is when I realize that I have helped and hurt The Writer at the same time. He is still aching inside me to be set free. I tell him that when I find "Home" he will have his day.

That's when he calls me a liar.

"We have no Muse," he argues. "Where is the lover we can write to about all the things we've seen and felt and know now, Old Man?"

You mean Lynda, pal? The woman I've been writing to all my life?

"Just answer me, idyit!"

And I cannot answer. I want to believe there is a Next Woman, but she is a void, a mystery, to me.

Are you saying that your future as a Writer is dependent on finding The Next Woman, Rod?

Yes.

There seems to be a strange connection between my ability to write decent fiction, moving fiction, and a woman for whom I am doing it.

There. I said it.

But then I've always been the Knight Errant, haven't I? Looking for Love.

I wanted to put some kind of cap on this wandering rumination. I thought that I would find one on Saturday, but instead I had a "lost" day. I mostly slept. I was exhausted from having a Nawlins weekend. You have to live here to understand that. I left Matt at Harrah's casino where he was sitting at the quarter slot machines drinking gin and tonics. That all happened by accident. Darhl had sent me francs, you see, and Harrah's is the only place to change currency during the weekend. It's a local joke. The place is a huge cavern and easy to get lost in, so I just came home, unable to find Matt after going to the men's room. I came home and slept.

When I woke up today, I found Lionel's e-mail, the flat was empty, and I called Verti Mart ("Real Food for Real People at Real Prices") to order ribs. (Thanks, Darhl!) Verti Mart is a New Orleans institution that sells good food for cheap, groceries, liquor, you name it, and delivers 24 and 7. Lord be praised! A guy like me, living on the Internet, needs a place like that.

And then I found myself thinking of various countries, friends around the world, and you. I think about you a lot.

I love you. Otherwise, I wouldn't do this. I imagine your eyes going over these pages slowly or in jerks, and I wish I could be there in the room with you, laughing, trading gibes, and sharing some of your stories.

I wish I could see your sparkling eyes and hear the lilt in your voice, not just have to imagine it from afar. That was the good thing about getting on that long plane ride and finally seeing and hugging Felicity Ussher, Kevin and Margaret Carey, Dragan and Dragana Vicanovic. I'd like to have the same presence with you.

I'd also like to be a millionaire. And, yeah, I know, people in Hell would like ice water.

But when I think of you, here in this little room in New Orleans, as I've thought of you in similar rooms in San Francisco, New York, Baltimore, London and Belgrade, it's with fondness and, again, love. I hope that some of the stuff we do here at G21, the writing, speaks to your real concerns. When I get letters about the Binj's recipes, for example, or that interview with Sergei Avedeyev, I think maybe we've done something right and touched you. When I go back to read the pristine prose of my schweetheart, Max Adams, I hope you learned something here. And that makes me warm and fuzzy, Pilgrim.

'Cause there's one thing I've learned in all my wandering: people are all the same. Most of us can't catch many breaks -- it's not just me and Dollar Bill. So then I'm thinking "What's the BIG Stuff?"

Well, I guess the BIG Stuff is laughter, friendship, family -- and yeah, okay, love. I've got one out of four. (I can still laugh.) I want to believe that you're batting four hundred.

That leaves me with a wish for you and me both, Darlin': That we find love.

I'll stop being the Knight Errant, I'll get home. Write Bill Gates, Tell him to hire me for Microsoft's office in Belgrade. Thanks.

THINGS I FEEL THIS WEEK

Rod was a columnist for the Andover News Network, where he wrote over two hundred articles on web design and development issues. He was also principal writer and Editor for IT Manager's Journal, where he reviewed technology issues weekly, producing 383 editorials. He became the Managing Editor for Electronic Mail/Newsletter Publications at Andover.net at the end of February, 2000, and left in September of the same year. He was a contributing writer for ACCESS magazine, which appears both on- and offline for 10 million readers in 100 newspapers like the San Francisco Chronicle, New York Post, Boston Herald, Austin American-Statesman, Denver Post and Orlando Sentinel, among others. Rod was the US reporter for Silicon.com, a division of Network Multimedia Television in London, UK, reaching 3.5 million European readers, until May, 2001.

Rod lives in New Orleans, Louisiana, right now. The new home of the magazine. But he plans to return to Serbia next year.

He continues to be committed to integrity, chastity and a dose of humility.

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