Ah yes. Here we are again. Sunday night. I hate Sundays and Sunday nights in particular.

Today I hiked 10 miles. Yesterday I hiked 10 miles. I wish that were all still before me. I wish I could just walk forever in the woods and that Monday would not ever come, Monday with the students who think me incompetent and uninteresting and Monday with leaving Basho alone for so long and Monday reminding me of my damned solitude. I hate it. Stupid Mondays. Stupid business writing.

But I hiked 20 miles this weekend. I made rice pudding. I read. I listened to the radio. I was happy, wasn't I?

I really don't know about this. Really. This life, this place, this present. It's a hard thing to see your life as a trap. But I do and I want out. Where to go, friends? Where? I don't want the great yawning future because all I've learned so far is how to adjust to disappointment and to fewer and fewer people every day. Ten years from now? I'll probably be, officially, an agoraphobic mute.

I really just don't want tomorrow to be Monday. God help me.