Thinking about how much I love this fella, even though I only saw him play one time. I know for sure it was love though. He lives on a mountain in Tennessee he says. He�s playing in the mountains this weekend and even though it�s about three hours away part of me wants to just up and go. I may just�take Bash and go for a hike and then go to the show and then drive home. Maybe baby I will. I am gunning for some fun. I may just have to grow my own.

Next week is fall break here. No class next Monday. The rest of this week, the chumps in my annoying lit class are taking tests. No planning for that damned class until next Wednesday. Happy happy joy joy.

I want to go on a road trip. Yep. I would go to Washington D.C. and then I would go west as far as I can. I would go see Bathsheba. I would go see J-bird and Bauer. I would go see Oliver. I would camp. I would hike. I would have a look at the Pacific Ocean, which I�ve never seen. I would ride through the Badlands just for the name. I would go everywhere.

I hiked two mountains this weekend and everyone else, all those healthy non-smokers, were a-huffing and a-puffing and I reached the top first. Yep. And I was the only one who wasn�t sore the next day. Times have changed.

Week after next is the big library book sale. I am all covetous over the compact OED which will be up for sale. And which comes with a magnifying glass in a special drawer. It�s neat.

I think it�s the fall air. I want to eat up all the happiness and see all the people and eat up their happiness and soak in their chatter and their news. I also want to write, I want to spend all my time working. I do not want to go to class ever again! Never! Again!

Oh dear. Sue has written me email and I am awash in a guilt-induced impotence as to how to proceed. I have neglected her so very very much. Never called or wrote or anything on her birthday. Never uttered a peep when she lost her job. Never said thank you for the gift she sent me for my birthday. I am such a fuck-up sometimes. I want to gather up all the scattered things and thoughts I�ve had for her lo these many months and put them in a box with a long handwritten letter full of love and repentance and send it her way. I want to do this first before I respond to her email. I worry because I�m famously lazy and the procrastinator extraordinaire. I worry that she wants my current address and Blythe�s current address because she wants to send us wedding invitations and I feel like SUCH an ass. Because she�s getting married to a total fucking prig because she�s willing to settle for such things and I sit by and watch and don�t say a word. Oy.

Ooo pretty. I have just been handed hundreds of prints for the book sale. One of my artier students will be creating a display for these lovely things. I wish I could make the display. That sounds like more fun than checking all these books. Which I swore to myself I�d have done by last week. I swore and I�ve not finished still. Blink.

I�m working late and so I just better get to it already. I want to fence and do Tai Chi and stretch and walk for miles with my pup at my side and eat vegetable from some friendly garden and rake the leaves and learn to turn cartwheels and perfect my imperfect whistle. But the books would never get done that way. And the books are all right with me. I got no argument with the books.