Today I had lunch with one of my ex-students I have a particular affinity for. I ended up giving him my iPod. (I have another one.) I was concerned about him traveling on 9/11. At this moment I'm thinking his plane is taking off from the SA airport and headed for North Carolina, where he goes to college.
My desire to write seems to be growing; however, that's all it is-- an empty desire to write. I really have nothing to say. Or maybe I have too much to say, and it's all disconnected stuff, and I despair of ever knowing how any of it will fit together. Of course it's not my concern how it all fits together, at least not until I have something TO fit together. But it would be just too healthy and productive to think that way and actually write something.
But who knows?, I have been known to be healthy and productive in the past. I wrote three journal pages. It could be a turn-up.
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