I have to go to class soon. Oh, but I'm so full of heartache today.

Perhaps because I have received a long long email from Bathsheba which began "Dearest of Molus" and contained, tucked in the middle of beautifully rambling paragraphs full of pets and setting up house "I miss you and so I am wondering when you are coming to Colorado." And I know, now, with all the finality of locked doors and stones, that I'm in this dreck alone. And I know, now, I've no one to tell all my daily trivialities to anymore. I was saving them up, I thought, ready to spill them on the first unsuspecting kind face to enter my orbit, but none did. And they are all gone now. And I miss Bathsheba terribly.

Perhaps because we, none of us, know what to do with today. What's the appropriate reaction to this day? Mournful? Angry? Respectful? Should I put a poem up on this page as a marker, to signify something terrible happened here once? Is that something terrible still happening? Should I be more patriotic? Or less? And who, if anyone, is profiting from those red white and blue ribbons anyway? Can we phony it up a little more? Make the truth a little more palatable? I am deeply suspicious of ribbon causes. I am deeply suspicious of all this sentiment without substance.

Perhaps because I cannot see into my own future. I can't imagine a life different from the one I now lead and I am terrified, shaking in my boots scared, that there is no other life out there for me. Possibilities are fast becoming impossible.

Perhaps because I simply went to bed late and slept fitfully and I've not the stamina, today, to keep the evil beasties at bay.

This gets me nowhere.

Oh heart like a hook!

Oh heart like a serpent
knotted on itself!