Paul Simon sings that “these are the days of miracles and wonders.” Yeah. Well, are they? Me? I sing: “these days have been / another senseless whirlwind.” Without purpose, without intention, but with no shortage unfulfilled purposes and abandoned intentions. Flurry and bustle. No, it’s not “fulfilling,” per-se, but it’s time-filling, which amounts to the same, at the end of the days. [sic]
I could elaborate on that point. Or I could … not elaborate on that point. I’ll opt for the latter. I’ve written enough. Or I’ve written nothing at all– more likely.
School approaches rapidly enough. Fine.
I don’t have a phone any more. You can call me at home–307.634.9607. I won’t be there, but I’ll get the message if you leave one.