Ah good morning sunshine. I love Thursdays. This won�t be long, I just wanted to pop in, dear diary, and say that class last night was brilliant and three of them actually told me I was a great teacher�one said, you love doing this don�t you. It wasn�t a question when she said it. She said, I can tell you love this. She said, I can tell you were meant to be a teacher. I said, whoa, slow down. She said, no, you make me love it. That right there, that was one of the greatest things somebody�s ever said to me.

Slept long and hard and I feel good. Strong. Able to take care of myself again. I have to work like a banshee today to make up for the non-work I�ve been doing all week.

Oh and I wanted to write this down, from Franny and Zooey (which I have here because I�m trying to find a good part to show to Scott because he won�t like Salinger even though he should�so if anyone out there has a favorite bit from him, put it in my guestbook. Yeah. That�s right. Do that.):

One other thing. And that�s all. I promise you. But the thing is, you raved and you bitched when you came home about the stupidity of audiences. The goddam �unskilled laughter� coming from the fifth row. And that�s right, that�s right�God knows it�s depressing. I�m not saying it isn�t. But that�s none of your business, really. That�s none of your business, Franny. An artist�s only concern is to shoot from some kind of perfection, and on his own terms, not anyone else�s. You have no right to think about those things, I swear to you.

That�s my thesis statement. That�s my mantra. Good day good day I love everything and everyone good day.