I want to build a full-size house within a giant room inside the top of a skyscraper. I want to be able to control the daylight and the moon and stars on the walls and ceiling through carefully hidden LCD projectors. I want a small garden behind the house, a doorbell, a tube television made of varnished cheery that sits on the carpet of the living room floor, walls made of artist’s books, original art, 12" singles, and the mixtapes of friends. I want to buy the two floors beneath me so that I can dance hard and press the "Bass Boost" button on my stereo at 3 A.M. I want a job outside the service industry in a magical office peopled by genteel, well-traveled Southern women who reminisce about free love and the late 1960's. I want to manage a vast trust ensuring that all of the dreams of my friends will come true. I want to throw an intimate party in a different international city every Sunday night. I want to send surprise Saturday night airline tickets to a circle of intimates, perfume them with coffee and handwritten reminders that life is short. I want to open my heart, be invisible, have a family again, know more children, read the Bible, dig a hole in my hometown and speak a sermon into the Earth. I want a ring cast from the first metal that I excavate placed on Alton’s finger and inscribed on the inside with a phrase that only he will ever see. I want our marriage ceremony conducted without an audience and behind a waterfall. And, I want to leave behind a good story, something worthy of fairy whispers.