I have nothing to say. I'm just wasting time. I must have already wasted a lot of it because I know there was one point in my life when hours stretched for miles beyond the horizon and staying up past midnight was exciting. Now all things are moments and moments are fleeting like dollars in a loose grip and I wind up spending them by accident-- I forget I have a paper due and wind up in the kitchen at half past one with the kettle on while making notations in the margins of a textbook of literature or science or what have you.. then around eight I'm muttering expletives, one foot out the door while the printer purposely buzzes out my paper at an apallingly slooow rate. I do this every time without fail.
I guess I just like calm weeks punctuated once in a while with panic.