February 7, 2014

Most of my energy as a writer has been dissipated in trying to force my way past ignorant and destructive gatekeepers. I will never be the writer I would have been if I hadn’t had to keep crossing and re-crossing the same ground. I have a hard time dealing with the aspect of criminal wastefulness anywhere I find it.

Interesting classes on the bible. The bible haters feel free to be vocal; the fundamentalists glower in silence. I wish I knew which to do something about. I did ask, “Who believes there really was a great flood and there really is an Ark resting somewhere on Mount Ararat?” The beautiful girl who sits in front raised her hand, and I realized I had to drop that line of discourse instantly, for mockery accomplishes nothing, in addition to being rude. Besides, do I KNOW there is no Ark upon Ararat?

The house grows barer and barer. I keep washing out and reusing the same mug. Today my cutting board is transported, and what I cook will come out of a can.  The cats widen the circles of their romps. I feed the birds on my porch, knowing there are no hooks for feeders on my new porch, and no give in the design of the facade to accommodate them.